Chapter 68 - Chapter 1-Mjöllmile's ambitions

My name is Mjöllmile, and yes, I'll freely admit I've had more than my fair

share of luck in my life. But you know what? The stuff I've experienced lately—

well, "luck" doesn't even begin to describe it.

Looking back, I suppose my luck turned unshakable once I accepted Sir

Rimuru's invitation. Sir Rimuru, in so many words, is my boss, but let me tell

you, he's a lot more than just some faceless master I serve. After all, he's the

head of the Jura-Tempest Federation—its king, in other words. A demon lord, to

boot. Not joking. I mean it.

Since the day I met this Sir Rimuru, I've instinctively known that he wasn't one

to be trifled with. Even now, I see him as this god (or goddess?)-like figure, and

frankly, they say he's far stronger than I could ever imagine. I mean, think about

it. He saved my hide once by defeating a Sky Dragon, a monster powerful

enough to destroy entire cities—maybe even overthrow a small nation or two.

That alone makes him a hero and someone I owe well near everything, but not

long after that, I heard he joined the Octagram. Just about fell out of my chair, I

did.

And that's hardly all. He's close friends with Lady Milim, the kind of demon

lord you'd hear about in legend—or fairy tales, really—and he even recruited Sir

Veldora, one of just four True Dragons in the world, to his side. You know, I'm

so exhausted from all these surprises that whenever I hear something new

about him, it just makes me think oh, neat and that's all.

But enough about Sir Rimuru. Let's get down to business.

My principal ambition in life was to become a great merchant, one big enough

that nobody would dare make light of me. I ran an enterprise in a small nation

called Blumund, with another branch in the much larger kingdom of Englesia. I became fairly well known in my field, and just when business was really starting

to boom, I received a rather large-scale proposal. Fuze, the guild master serving

Blumund, reached out to me, and that was how I wound up meeting Sir Rimuru

for the first time. Next thing I knew, the newly crowned demon lord was visiting

me—and even inviting me to assume a rather lofty position in his monster

kingdom.

In essence, I'm now serving as Tempest's finance minister. My exact title

tends to change pretty often, but the nature of the job doesn't. Basically, I take

all the vast fortunes the kingdom accumulates and transfer 'em over to

whatever department needs it, at my discretion.

Back when I was still a merchant, part of the sales from my multiple

businesses would come back to me as remuneration. From that I deducted

investment purchases, labor costs, and what have you, and funneled what

remained into my operating expenses. That was hard, but what I do now is hard

in a different sort of way. The amounts of money I work with, I mean.

My gross salary once upon a time was a proverbial drop in the bucket—or a

drop in the ocean, really. As for what it is now…well, why hide it? It's fifty gold

coins a month, and that's after taxes. And, lest we forget, that doesn't even

include bonuses, assorted stipends, and the extra credit I get to cover my

housing costs. As if that weren't enough, I also have people from Tempest's job

training center working as maids at my home, so the kingdom's largely covering

maintenance and so forth for that as well. It's simply an unheard-of deal. In

fact, I could hardly contain myself when they offered it to me.

Of course, I do still have to take care of the people who joined me from my

old home office in Blumund, but most of them are still working under me

anyway, so their salaries are covered by the Tempest government as well. The

only folks I directly employ around here are Bydd and the guys I hired to watch

my house—and twenty gold coins are enough to cover that.

But that's not even the real surprise. You see, I'm not a single-income type of

person. I have certain other passive income streams, too.

One is the profit earned from my old trading firm. I've been helping Sir

Rimuru implement all his wild ideas, starting with the fast-food stalls he suggested for the Founder's Festival. We've been deploying these in Blumund

and at the rest stops along the highways, but I'm the general manager of all

these new locations. Day-to-day operations are handled by Tempest, but for

reasons I don't understand (though I'm certainly not complaining about it!),

they pay me a salary for that as well.

As Sir Rimuru is fond of saying, "he and I are bound by fate." "Mollie," he told

me, "when you make money, that fills my coffers as well. Doesn't it? It's money

you earn, after all, by making my ideas happen, so you deserve to share in the

benefits, don't you think?"

I have his full support, in other words. Plus—I wasn't aware of this—

apparently the contract between us stipulates that Sir Rimuru and I each get an

equal share of the profits. By "contract" I don't mean anything written down on

paper, but it sounds like Sir Rimuru is absolutely willing to comply with this

agreement.

So, you see, I have quite a bit of motivation to live up to Sir Rimuru's

expectations, and I do a very good job at it. As a result, I receive a good hundred

gold coins per month from all the storefronts I'm involved with. There was a

great deal of up-front investment, mind you, so my overall profits aren't

staggeringly high yet, but we're both certain that they'll increase going forward.

Our current locations are expanding their reach, and we've also received

requests for more branches from all manner of different countries. I'm thinking

that we'll have more variety to the restaurants we offer as well. There are so

many dishes, so many types of cuisine, that Sir Rimuru has enlisted Gobichi to

create for him. I receive the side benefit of getting to sample all these delicacies

first, too, and overall it's an investment opportunity I'm not going to turn down.

The burger places and ramen shops are all going gangbusters, let me tell you.

The hibachi locations are starting to make a name for themselves as well, and

we're working on a concept for something called "ice cream" that I'm rather

excited about. We're also providing all our latest culinary inventions to the inns

along the highways, and if these concepts prove to resonate with our audience,

I'm sure we'll be adding even more restaurants.

Thus, realistically speaking, I think I'm all but guaranteed to see profits commensurate with my investments. At this rate, I'm no longer excited to learn

how much I make per year—I'm more terrified to learn the number. You have

to keep in mind, after all, that in the space of under a year, I've stashed away

enough coin to live like a king for the rest of my natural life.

It's an absolutely unbeatable business arrangement, and that's not even all of

it. I have another income source, you see, and that lies in that little REG

organization I'm a member of.

REG refers to a group consisting of Sir Rimuru, Her Excellency Elmesia of the

Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion, and me, Gard Mjöllmile. It's our initials, you see.

Elmesia, the Heavenly Emperor, is truly a divine being. Nothing at all like me,

to be certain. It's said that if you want to meet with the nobility of the world's

more powerful nations, the waiting list can be several years long. When it

comes to royalty, you may never receive an audience, no matter how hard you

try. It's a simple matter of power. Folks say Thalion is as powerful as all the

Western Nations combined, and they've been supporting Tempest since its

founding, so we've been able to bask in the glorious light of Emperor Elmesia

for a long time now. I'm led to believe that Elmesia is treated as a god in her

home country, and considering that Sir Rimuru's made her his drinking partner,

one can only guess how mighty a leader he is.

Why am I part of this little social club of adult beverage enthusiasts? At this

point, I honestly can't remember. But thanks to that, here I am, sitting around

with the Heavenly Emperor and even referring to her as "Big Mama" for

reasons that, again, I don't recall.

So people have come to refer to us as the Three Pranksters and the like, but

nobody knows exactly what REG is involved with. It's the very top among top

secrets, so only a select few are allowed to be clued in. Within Tempest, that's

Benimaru, Soei, and no one else—just those two. Soei's been lending us

personnel and support for our projects, so we can't leave him in the dark about

them. Benimaru, on the other hand, came in on Sir Rimuru's introduction. I can

recall the conversation vividly:

"Hey, you're gonna get married someday, aren't you?" "I, er, I didn't have any plans…"

"Well, if you wanna prepare for that, you need to save up a little stash,

y'know? Like, some spending money you can hide from the wife so you can go

out and have fun."

"N-no, my lord, I'm already well compensated—"

"Oh, quit acting so dumb! You gotta hide at least your official yearly salary, or

else you'll have a lotta trouble keeping up with all your male friends' drinking

outings!"

"Er… I will, sir?"

"Oh yes. A man needs to be resourceful like that!"

I'm not sure if Sir Rimuru was giving him wholly sound advice, but it wasn't

any of my business, so I didn't speak up. I just let it slide, wisely concluding that

it'd be best to stay out of it. Besides, I knew that Benimaru—who, as our

highest-ranking general, is Tempest's de facto minister of war—earns the same

salary I do, and you'd have to be quite the tippler to spend six hundred gold

coins a year on your bar tab. But anyway.

Oddly enough, Sir Rimuru seems rather petrified that Lady Shuna will find out

about our REG plans. I'm sure he recruited her brother Benimaru in no small

part to stand guard and ensure nobody got wise. Either way, though, we have

Benimaru helping us out and Soei lending us staff. These employees serve as

our people on the ground—executing the plans of REG, our little secret cabal.

The exact plans came from Sir Rimuru, who honestly had quite an insight. The

core of them is to establish a sort of three-way deadlock. We retain full control

over REG, this underground group that's not afraid to get its hands dirty (or

bloody)—and at the same time, we also build a couple of "clean" firms that

compete in public. If we built a single giant firm, it'd start to rot on the inside

over time—and either way, we knew Tempest had already earned itself a lot of

enemies. So we decided to divide our activities between two organizations,

then have them compete against each other. That energizes the market, and as

these two firms compete, they're also set up to work in tandem as needed. That

—hopefully, anyway—will prevent any internal corruption. This structure, of course, will take years to fully develop. Sir Rimuru is working

on a vast timeline, and I gotta admit, I would have never come up with a thing

like that.

Either way, my job was to put together one of these two public firms. Big

Mama, meanwhile, was building her own, mainly comprised of former

employees of the Rozzo family over in the kingdom of Doran. This resulted in

something called the Western General Trade Company, a group filled with

people openly hostile toward Tempest. In order to compete with them, I was

forming the Four Nations Trade Alliance, and I needed to get it up and running

pretty damn fast.

As we planned it originally, the FNTA was a parent organization overseeing

major movers and shakers in Tempest, Blumund, Farminus, and the Dwarven

Kingdom. The merchants I recruited after the Founder's Festival served as my

ground team—we'd starve them of customers, ostracize them from their home

nations, rob them of their support staff, and then we'd offer them a helping

hand. "Work for me," I'd tell them, "and I guarantee you'll keep a roof over your

head…" Not many were foolish enough to refuse the offer. How could they? We

made sure newspapers around the world reported heavily on us, so we were

well known to people—notorious, even. Not many decent folk would trust an

organization like that, so we positioned ourselves as their last resort, in a way.

The journalists did such a good job for us, and it goes without saying that Sir

Rimuru and Diablo's manipulation of them was downright scary.

Thanks to that, my work went almost laughably well. Some people picked up

on what we were attempting, of course—and, really, I bet the majority did,

actually—but we'd never recruit anyone useful unless we took this approach.

We did pay the salaries we promised everyone, too, so nobody had any right to

complain. People's pride got in the way sometimes, but we could deal with that.

Merchants are very opportunistic people, you see, willing to allow just about

anything if it means profit. We gave them better positions and salaries if they

proved worthy of them, and in time, their complaints dwindled. Before long,

they were swearing allegiance to me.

This group of employees, by the way, also included Bach, my former head

clerk. He was faithfully paying off his debt to me as he grew into an excellent manager, so I recruited him for this work in exchange for canceling his balance.

He always felt like he owed me, if you will, and already he was working out

better than I'd imagined.

We were finding talented recruits in all sorts of other places. When Fuze

explained matters to the king of Blumund, the king promptly gathered his most

trusted ministers and set off to train people for the future to come. The

Dwarven Kingdom sent us a number of talented bureaucrats as well. As long-

lived as they are, one has no chance at a promotion over there unless the

person above them leaves. Those sharp enough to spot this opportunity from

us were all but lining up to join. That sort of ambition is real important to see,

you know.

I heard the Western General Trade Company that Big Mama was forming had

a number of long-lived elves join them as well. We had dwarven staff pitching in

for us, but elves would certainly be stiff competition for them.

Farminus, meanwhile, was an issue. We actually needed to intervene in order

to get a branch built there. The Free Guild helped us as well, but I suppose

keeping the kingdom stable was their first priority. This was all stuff we

expected, however, so we were taking a long-term view on that region. That's

why we pitched in for now, hoping that they'd train up their personnel for the

future.

Beyond that, though, we faced a lot of other problems. If we were going to

expand into the Western Nations, well, we had nowhere near enough staff for

that. REG had been expanding this whole time, crushing other organized crime

groups and absorbing them into itself, and I was honestly quite jealous of them.

Those sorts of companies could get away with that, but what a company in the

public eye needed was talented people you could rely on to get the job done.

We're sending our recruits over to Tempest for education, but I'm afraid it'll be

several years before we see them exercising their full potential.

Besides, in my business, trust is everything. That's my philosophy, you see.

Leaving important work to someone you don't know well goes against

everything I believe. That, of course, meant we needed to pick and choose our

employees carefully—and, as I feared, we faced employee shortages as we

expanded into other nations. I decided to bring this up with Sir Rimuru.

"Hmm… That is an issue," he said. "The 'staff' in my country are all monsters,

after all. Not all humans will like to see them walkin' around."

"No, they won't. As talented as many of those monsters are, I'm sure they'll

become more accepted once people work together with them…but I fear now

may not be the time to force the issue."

"I agree with you there, Mollie. If the monsters they look down on work too

well, they'll become the target of envy next. I can't have the humans

persecuting them. Working too fast here wouldn't be smart."

So we were on the same page there. But what should we do, then? As we

pondered this, Sir Rimuru offered a potential solution.

"Well, so be it. I know someone who can help with this. She seems pretty

talented to me anyway."

He called in Testarossa, who answered directly to him. Testarossa served as a

diplomatic attaché, and an excellent one, too, by the sounds of things. I had

already been introduced to her, but she was so beautiful, I could barely have a

coherent conversation with her.

I didn't fare any better this time, either.

"You called for me, Sir Rimuru?"

That kind, affectionate smile, on that incredibly pretty face. The aroma

wafting around her was so astounding, I was instantly cowed into silence. I just

sat there, mouth wide open, as Sir Rimuru and Testarossa began to discuss

matters.

"So, you know, we're running pretty short on staff."

"I see. Perhaps I can help you with that. I could have my own underlings assist

you."

"Oh, you can? I'd appreciate that, yeah. Keep in mind, this is a secret

operation, so don't tell anyone else about it."

"My. A secret between me and you, Sir Rimuru? Then I promise I won't tell a

soul—and neither will my minions. If any one of them leaks it…" She let out a low snicker. One look at that grin, and I knew beyond the

shadow of a doubt that our secret was safe.

That settled things for the time being. But then Testarossa smiled at me.

"Sir Gard, I will instruct them to obediently follow any order you give them."

Her voice sounded like the trumpets of heaven to me as it made its way

through my brain. Testarossa—the Testarossa—was addressing me by name.

"Thank you very much, then!" I couldn't help but blurt out. I now had

Testarossa's support, and after that, things proceeded at a scarily fast clip.

In the space of a few months, we had Four Nations Trade Alliance branches in

every member nation of the Council. Many of these were quite small, with

perhaps ten employees at most, but it would suffice for now.

This alone was a great surprise to me, but soon I was greeted by an even

more shocking event. It turned out that, somewhere along the line, I of all

people had been picked as the FNTA's director.

"We are leaving everything to you," King Gazel told me. "If Rimuru places his

trust in you, Mjöllmile, I certainly can as well."

Hearing this high praise made even someone like me freeze up in anxiety. But

if that was what the king was saying, none of our dwarven bureaucrats would

be against it. If they were, they never betrayed it in their work.

Yohm was just as appreciative. "We're the ones being helped here," he said,

"and I got no complaints about that so far. So hang in there, okay?" Then he

brought his lips to my ear and whispered "Can't be easy, huh, bein' wrapped

around Rimuru's finger?" to me.

"Not for either of us," I retorted with a grin. "But thanks to that, I couldn't

possibly be having more fun."

Yohm smiled back at me, so I can only assume he understood.

Blumund, meanwhile, was a slog. The people over there might have seemed

sensible and open to debate, but my instincts told me that Doram, king of

Blumund, was not someone to trifle with. And of course I was right, you know. The negotiations were an exercise in futility.

"Hoh-hoh-hoh! The director of this trade alliance will likely wield untold

power in the future…enough that not even a king could turn their head. If you

were to take this position, Mjöllmile, that would put my mind at ease."

I'd been expecting the worst, but the way he put it, he was open to a wait-

and-see approach.

"Ha-ha-ha! Well, I'm quite honored. In that case, I look forward to—"

"By the way…"

Here we go! I steeled myself.

"Our nation is currently training people who will serve in Rimuru's plans. It

seems natural to me that this staff would be guaranteed employment once

their training is complete…"

"Ah yes, of course. I'm sure the plans would never work at all without their

cooperation."

"You believe so? That's quite a relief to hear. I imagine you are aware, then,

of the current situation in my kingdom?"

"The situation, Your Majesty?" I replied, unsure what he was talking about or

how I should answer.

The king maintained a friendly smile as he told me something that sounded

utterly preposterous.

"Let me be blunt, then. Our nation has completely abandoned all agricultural

activity. We've released all the crops and provisions in our treasury, so our

people will have something to subsist on. I would like to ask for some support

along those lines, if I may."

"What?!"

I was stunned into silence. But protesting wouldn't achieve anything.

"Of—of course, we will do whatever we can, but I'm afraid my current post

does not allow me to make such policy decisions…"

"Ohhh, I'm sure Rimuru would give his permission with a smile. We're letting him build the World Central Station, the main nexus point for magitrains, in our

lands. Given that contribution, I hardly imagine he would simply abandon us."

That's crazy!

I wanted to shout at him about how unsound his logic was, but a part of me

thought it made sense, too. This king had staked the entire future of his

kingdom on Sir Rimuru's plans. Would it prove to be a foolish mistake, or the

work of a wise ruler? Or…isn't it my job to ensure he's making the right move? I

think it is. If people decide the king erred on this call, it'll mean Sir Rimuru's

plans have failed.

We'd been facing severe staff shortages even before this. If the whole

population of Blumund was willing to work for us, it'd help us out in all kinds of

ways. Really, I had just one answer for him.

"Ah yes, I'm sure he wouldn't. You certainly have me there, Your Majesty! In

that case, I promise you that I will endeavor to bring Blumund to a state of full

employment!"

"Hoh-hoh-hoh! How reassuring to hear, Mjöllmile! And I hope you'll continue

to let us rely on your good graces going forward. With that in mind, I would like

you to call me simply Doram from now on."

Whoa now. This was a surprise. A king wanted a common merchant like me to

drop all formalities?

"Oh, that would be far too untoward of me…"

I motioned to turn him down, fearing a trap, but:

"Mjöllmile… Or actually, why don't I call you Gard instead?"

"N-no, I'm simply here on behalf of Sir Rimuru. I'm a commoner, you see—"

"Hoh-hoh-hoh! No need for modesty now. Besides, Gard, given your

connections with both Rimuru and Emperor Elmesia, can one truly think you are

a mere commoner? Because not even I am fully awarded that luxury with

them."

The king looked deadly serious. He and Sir Rimuru were acquainted with each

other and I knew they got along well enough—but if he was stacked up against the Heavenly Emperor of almighty Thalion, he'd look like the king of an anthill

by comparison. It was written all over his face, and I couldn't deny he was right.

I had been turning my eyes away from the truth, perhaps, but Big Mama was

truly an invincible juggernaut.

No, the king of Blumund was undoubtedly trying to form a closer relationship

with me here. Referring to me by my first name was an honor, something I

certainly appreciated as part of building our ties. But how should I react…? Well,

was there any need to hesitate? I mean, the king of Blumund's last name is,

well, Blumund. Besides, we had his son Prince Figaro running the Western

General Trade Company. I figured I was safe.

"All right… King Doram, then."

"Hold on, hold on. Let's refer to each other as equals, why don't we? You can

even call me Dory if you—"

"N-no, no, I'm afraid that's simply too off-the-wall! Or dangerous, even!"

"You think so?"

"I know so! Phew… But all right. May I at least refer to you as the good Sir

Doram?"

Carefully, I adjusted his title a bit, trying to satisfy his request. If someone saw

this as too rude, I'd be deservedly thrown in the dungeon, but I trusted that

wasn't going to happen.

But Sir Doram just smiled back at me. "Hee-hee! You've made me very happy.

Building such a close friendship with someone like you, Gard, who has the

demon lord's ear at all times, makes me feel more powerful than ever before. I

look forward to continuing our relationship along these lines!"

Apparently I was Sir Doram's friend now. I looked around the throne room,

wondering if anyone was going to voice an objection to this. However…

although the king had all his dour-faced ministers standing behind him, not one

of them made a peep. In fact, they were smiling at me in relief.

I could only take this to mean that Sir Doram was serious about all of it. He

was investing everything he had into the Four Nations Trade Alliance, this

multinational organization I was directing—really betting his entire nation on it, and on me. What an unbelievable gamble! Even I would have had trouble

making such a momentous decision. Looking at it that way, the king of Blumund

was truly one of the world's boldest figures.

"Yes indeed, I look forward to building a long, fruitful relationship. And I'll try

to prove to you that I'm not merely coasting on my lord's good name."

With all the respect I could muster, I bowed to Sir Doram.

After our meeting, I had some other practical business to handle in Blumund.

Veryard, who had lately been promoted from baron to viscount, gave me a

briefing on current affairs. The kingdom apparently had a year's worth of food

remaining, and its educational program was progressing well. The more

talented students were already being sent across the land so they could

contribute early in their careers.

"Of course, I don't think I'm delivering shocking news when I say that our

nation is gifted in espionage. Our agents are currently deployed in many

countries, handling work like price research for us. We're also training people

for the bureaucracy, under the philosophy of 'wise people, bountiful country.'

People young and old are coming together to learn about world affairs and

economics."

The smile never faded from the viscount's face as he spoke, but this rather

extreme political move he described left me speechless. I hadn't doubted Sir

Doram's words at all, but I also hadn't thought they were going this far with it.

The king's subjects sounded just as resolved to this as he was.

…Ahhh, but I can't sit here acting shocked forever.

"Very well, then. In that case, I will go over the current progress of our own

plans."

No point hiding anything. I went over all the stuff we were up to.

First, the magitrains. Development was proceeding well with them. We had

laid tracks from the terminus in Dwargon through the planned station at

Farminus; construction had progressed to a point just a bit before Blumund in

the middle. Crops and produce from Farminus were being sent to Dwargon, and there the magitrains' loads were replaced with industrial goods. These would

get sent off to Farminus, which would take what it needed before the

remainder moved on to Blumund, which needed to become a great hub for

goods in time.

"Of course. I suppose sanitation and storage for food commodities will

become important work in the future, then?"

"Indeed it will. I'd also want to ask Blumund to work out where necessary

goods should go, and who they should be sold to."

"Yes, naturally. I am stating as much to the employees we are deploying on

the field."

Hmm. I had heard Veryard is friends with Fuze, but he's just as wily at the

bargaining table, isn't he? And come to think of it, Sir Rimuru did tell me to

watch for how sharp Veryard is. He certainly was right—Veryard's not someone

I can let my guard down around.

"Excellent. So what are you doing with the land you're no longer raising crops

on?"

"We have plans underway for that as well. We've already procured the

necessary land for World Central Station, which we plan to build near the

capital. Most of the land around it will be left empty in all directions so the

station can be more easily connected to the highway system."

"Oh?"

"We also have land on the outskirts of the capital ready to serve as a logistical

hub connected to World Central."

"You do…?"

They were so well prepared, I didn't even know what to say.

Soon, we were deep into frank negotiations, no longer trying to cow each

other into submission. We in Tempest would provide a labor force to build the

gigantic World Central Station and open a rail line to Dwargon. The plan was to

then build new lines going to Thalion and Englesia. As this was happening, we

decided that Blumund would build an array of warehouses on the empty land they had prepared for us. Through this, we could already picture a future where

Blumund was a vast, powerful industrial region. This would lead to a rise in land

prices, no doubt, so it was vital that we secured the most favorable acreage

urgently. Blumund was clearly going to become a trade hub in the future, and I

planned to buy the best land possible before then.

"Now," I continued, "as for our Four Nations Trade Alliance branch, I'd like to

build a new one for us, which would make the current location just a temporary

site."

"No worries there. We have some prime spots for it."

I began to have a bad feeling about this. I tried reading into Veryard's

intentions, but they were all too hidden by his villainous smile to make out.

"And you're willing to give us this land?"

The cost of the land needed for the rails and stations would be shared equally

between us going forward. In exchange for the expertise and labor we

provided, we wouldn't be charged anything—something we'd already come to

an agreement on. The procurement of land for our branches, I had saved for

later, and already I saw dark clouds on the horizon. And I was right.

"No, no, I'm afraid I can't offer that. In the kingdom of Blumund, we've

adopted a new system where all land is the property of the nation, with the

king lending it to his people as needed."

He got me! That was such a drastic, evil move, not even I would've come up

with it. I mean, good heavens, how did they even get that law passed? Hats off

to them for pulling it off. I can't even imagine how they convinced the nobles to

give up their vested interests…

"And…how much are you charging for the use of this land?"

"Our current plans call for one silver coin per square meter."

It…wasn't outrageous. It wasn't cheap, either, but if you wanted to rent land

in Englesia, you were looking at three silver per square meter, at least. We'd

have to pay a de facto income tax every year on this land, but better to procure

it now than later. But we had a bigger problem. Profit didn't matter as much at this point. I was

facing the looming threat of Blumund calling all the shots on this rail project. A

disaster! Sir Rimuru could be strangely careless about this sort of thing, but Big

Mama never gave an inch. I could already picture her frowning at me and

saying, "Why'd you let them change their conditions midway, hmm?"

All would have been fine and dandy as long as we formed a good relationship,

but the thing about people is that they come and go. That made it so important

to gain permanent rights to the land we wanted. What if they decided to raise

the rent on us, not that I thought they would? If the price hike was within

reason, we could accept their terms following a discussion, but if they charged

something extortionary, it might just turn into a national-level crisis.

And…well, I'm fully aware all of this is what-if territory. But Big Mama told me

to always think about any possibilities that might come up. If we have control of

the land, we can reject any unjust demands on their part—but if they have it

and don't bend on their terms, we'd be in trouble. If conflict occurs, well, it's

the landowners who have the upper hand, isn't it? We'd have to pick up our

ball and go home. That's why I wanted those land rights. If having them wasn't

possible, it'd make it damned hard to spend too extravagantly on that land.

But as I pondered my next move, Veryard grinned at me.

"Now, we planned to adjust the rent depending on the economic situation,

but Mjöllmile, I happen to have some good news for you!"

Uh-huh…

He was starting to get under my skin.

"What news is that?"

"Oh, it's very simple. As a symbol of our good relations with your country, the

kingdom of Blumund is prepared to offer you some concessions."

"Concessions, you say?"

"Yes. To be precise, regarding the 'prime spots' I mentioned, we are willing to

negotiate a permanently binding lease agreement that will recognize the land

as extraterritorial areas." "You are?!"

I made my surprise known to him. It was almost too good to be true. And

before I could even think about what ulterior motive he might have, Veryard

seemed ready to explain it to me.

"Now, let me just say that there is no catch. His Majesty Doram Blumund

made that proposal himself. I was against it, but it was accepted after the other

ministers sided with him. The idea has certain pros and cons for us, you see. The

obvious minus, of course, is that other nations might look down on us if we sell

our land piecemeal like this."

"Yes, I suppose they might."

I was surprised he wasn't hiding more about this—but I had a pretty good

idea about the potential pluses for them, too.

"As for the benefits—well, we fully expect that Tempest will aggressively

invest in us if we commit to this. That, and we decided that Blumund can retain

certain advantages through the exact conditions of our lease agreement."

"Meaning…?"

Those "conditions" were what I was worried about.

"Oh, nothing too intricate. First, we'd like you to hire our citizens as your

employees. Second, we'd like you to build the headquarters of the Four Nations

Trade Alliance in our nation."

Aha. Now it made sense. If we built the FNTA's main office in Blumund, they'd

be more than just a logistical center—they could become the nerve center of

the entire world economy. I could even conceive of them taking over Englesia's

current position at the head of the table. Blumund's stock would skyrocket,

really.

So would the cost of its land, no doubt—if nations around the world built

embassies there, the real estate proceeds alone could be a potential profit

center. That business, unlike the tourism industry, wasn't as vulnerable to dips

and rises in the economy—and even better, it'd create more jobs for the

Blumundians. As long as they were serious about casting their lot with the

FNTA, it was a bet that could pay off in spades for them. It was honestly impressive to see from Sir Doram. He's a natural-born gambler, ain't he? And

besides, the idea of Blumund taking center stage in world economics had been

part of Sir Rimuru's concept as well.

So, having no objections to any of this, I eagerly gave Veryard my agreement.

Soon enough, after hammering out all the little details, we had a formal treaty

in place. It was designed so that both nations retained their own vested

interests—the agreement would be void in times of war, and so forth.

I was fairly happy with this treaty—or I thought I was anyway—but for future

reference, I still wanted to hear Veryard's true feelings on the matter.

"Now, if I could ask you a question…"

"Yes?"

"You see, Viscount Veryard…erm, apparently, you were personally against

signing this agreement. May I ask for your own thoughts on this, now that it's

been ratified?"

The FNTA had received some pretty favorable terms, after all. They'd create

some red tape for Blumund as it dealt with other nations. Maybe Veryard

wasn't dead set against this, but I wondered if he wasn't the greatest fan,

either.

"Oh, you're asking about that?"

Veryard paused to think for a moment. Then he stood up, not looking at me,

and walked over to a nearby window.

"…?"

He coughed as I pondered what he was doing.

"I am going to talk to myself for a moment, so please ignore me," he stated

gravely. "A noble is a creature that never reveals where their feelings truly lie.

In fact, showing those feelings could be fatal for them. If a negotiation results in

something less than desirable to them, they'll still bellow and brag about how it

went just as planned. Anything else would be a sign of weakness, and weakness

can too easily be used against you. So what I want to make clear is that I was against this, past tense. You may interpret that to mean I am now in full

agreement as of the moment I signed the treaty."

I was a little shocked. This was how he felt? If so, I had a feeling Veryard had

been aiming for this result all along. I didn't think I'd necessarily lost this battle,

but it reminded me just how arduous it was to bargain with the nobility.

"Boy," I couldn't help but mumble, "I see I have a long way to go, eh? And

here I prided myself on my ability to deal with lofty nobles like you. Now I'm

worried that I may lack the nerve to keep serving as head of the FNTA."

"No, no, Mjöllmile, you strike me as quite a sly dealer, if I may be blunt

enough to say so."

"Ha-ha-ha! I will gladly accept the compliment."

I chuckled a bit—and, much to my surprise, Veryard joined me. In a sincere,

human sort of way; that cold exterior from before seemed like a distant

memory now. So I couldn't help but risk taking just one more step.

"I apologize if this is too forward of me, but I hope you will hear me out," I

began. "Do you have any interest in working for me?"

The answer would probably be no. I knew that before I asked—but part of me

really meant it, too. If someone as talented as Veryard was part of my staff, I

couldn't have asked for a better ally as we expanded into Englesia, which was

doubtless going to be an uphill battle.

"Hmm."

"Ha-ha-ha! Ahhh, but look at me blurting out nonsense. You can just treat

that as a joke—"

"Well, hold on. That's actually quite an interesting offer."

"Oh?"

Veryard studied my face. He didn't seem to be toying with me.

"You mean that?" I asked.

"Yes. You see, I was actually considering a change of employer myself."

Veryard went on to give me a rundown of how things were going for Blumund, and what he saw in its future. As he reckoned, "wise people,

bountiful country" was a double-edged sword. It'd provide peace and

prosperity for the people of Blumund…but it could also weaken the position of

the kingdom's nobility.

"In Blumund, you see, the nobility do not hold vast parcels of land. In fact,

numerically speaking, there are actually very few of us—perhaps one percent

out of our population of one million. Of these, a little under two thousand are

knights, and their families add eight thousand to the total. Based on that, you

can see how only a small handful of nobles are actually involved in politics—

fewer than a hundred, in fact. Which is fine for now, but I'm quite sure that our

titles will be little more than ceremonial in the not-too-distant future. That is

the direction His Majesty has indicated in his plans."

Hmm. I see. Even a small nobility can still throw their weight around in a

country of Blumund's scope. But how could the nation so drastically reform

itself while retaining the nobility's interests? I'm sure there was at least some

backlash—but here they were, reinventing themselves.

"And are you…personally against any of that, Viscount?"

"No, I'm not. To me, earning a profit matters more." He grinned at me. "I do

think, however, that I need to find other work before I wind up unemployed."

That smile told me the whole story. This had all been orchestrated from the

start.

"Heh-heh-heh… Now I see what you're up to. This is your way of auditioning

instead of answering my question, isn't it?"

"Ha! I was expecting you'd see through that."

Oh, I'm sure. If I hadn't, he never would have deigned to work for someone

like me.

"So you are indeed interested?"

"I am. I would be delighted to work for you, Mjöllmile…but it would need to

be strictly in an adviser role for now, if that works for you."

Makes sense. He still has his noble title, so he can't make any major moves for a while yet. What I wanted most was Veryard's knowledge and experience

anyway, so his serving as an adviser was just fine with me.

"Of course it does! Thank you very much for your open-mindedness."

"And thank you for the offer."

We defiantly smiled at each other as we shook hands.

With Veryard providing me his full support, the Four Nations Trade Alliance

began to grow more steadily. Before long, our company would need to face off

directly with the land's most powerful merchants, our biggest competitors in

business.

"And that's what brings us to Englesia for the first time in a while, Gard?"

My bodyguard Bydd and I knew each other well enough by now to be on a

first-name basis. He had been training in Tempest, and that had boosted his

strength from a D-plus to an even B in rank. He had a new set of gear as well,

and I now trusted him enough that he accompanied me on all my extended

business trips.

Gob'emon was with me as well, of course, and by this point, he looked like a

battle-hardened hero, one whose presence left people awestruck. He was easily

an over-A in strength, and I think he had even evolved into an ogre mage on

me. An ogre mage! They were the stuff of legend, I'd been told, but Tempest

was positively overrun with them. It was so absurd, I just accepted it as fact lest

I lose my marbles.

"Right you are. I have a very important meeting today, and it will bring me

into, er, slightly dangerous territory."

"Oh? Sounds like you'll need me, then."

"Aw, c'mon, Gob'emon! Not when he's got me right here, y'know!"

"Heh. We'll see."

Now Gob'emon was openly laughing at the hyperconfident Bydd. He was an

ogre mage, but his skin color was the same as before—I supposed that varied

from ogre to ogre. He had horns as well, but they were small enough that he could hide them with a hat or bandanna. Today, he had a hat that matched the

sharp business suit I'd had tailored for him. At first sight, he looked like any

other hobgoblin, which made it easier for him to take his enemy by surprise. I

hate to downplay Bydd too much—he's been very good to me—but he still had

a ways to go; it was really Gob'emon who helped me out the most as a

bodyguard.

So I had two guards with me, but today, not even that felt like quite enough.

After all, I was going to meet with the merchants that more or less controlled all

the Western Nations. Not that I should have had cause for concern. Sir Rimuru,

after all, knew about my plans for today. Whether our negotiations paid off or

not, I knew I was as good as secure with him watching.

Instead, I could sit back and be in my element—a meeting hall full of top

businessmen and women from across the world, all here at my invitation. How

much more exciting can it get for a man like me? And that, you see, is why I had

myself and my guards dress in snappy business attire. A form of bracing

ourselves for what's to come, kind of.

"So are we ready?"

Bydd and Gob'emon briskly nodded—and so, steeling our resolve, we headed

for the hotel hosting this conference.

The automatic doors opened. "May I have your name, sir?" the man at the

front desk asked with a refined, practiced gesture.

"Mjöllmile."

"…!! My pardons, then. Just in case, would I be able to have a look at your

personal identification?"

Hmm. Not that anyone would attempt to impersonate me—but no reason not

to cooperate. The hotel was being just as careful with all the other guests, I'm

sure, so this was actually a relief.

"Will this work?"

Bydd took a letter of introduction out from his pocket and gave it to the hotel

staff. Once everything checked out, we were patted down to ensure none of us

were carrying weapons. In the midst of this, some of my employees jogged up to me.

"Sir Mjöllmile, we've been expecting you!"

"Everything has been set up. The meeting hall is this way."

Chasing away the front-desk man, my underlings guided me over to the site—

a large chamber this time, suitable for noble balls and such. Quite a number of

people were already there, their eyes fixed on me as I came in.

"That's the head of the FNTA? The man who proposed this?"

"Hmm… He looks familiar to me. I seem to recall the particular streak of

cruelty he brought to his work…"

"I heard the man achieved his current position by currying favor with the

demon lord Rimuru."

"Indeed. But best not to look down on him. I heard he's at the core of all the

business conducted in that monster nation. He's taking in the smaller

merchants who've suffered as a result, and now he's got a decent amount of

power in the region."

"Hmph! Who cares about some upstart like him? With the Rozzo family out of

the picture, I know King Doran has been positioning his kingdom for a potential

comeback…but none of the other Five Elders have shown an interest in a

takeover. It's over for all of them, I'm sure."

"Yes, and Prince Johann of Rostia was arrested by Englesia's magical

inquisitors. Nobody else is strong enough to restore their former glories."

"One story I heard was that Margrave Cidre is in custody as well. Apparently

he was ordered to defend Englesia, only to wholly abandon the request. He'll be

lucky to see the outside of a cell ever again, let me tell you."

"So whoever can seize the initiative at today's meeting can expect to wield

enormous influence in the next generation, then?"

"Heh-heh-heh… Not that I'll hand that throne to any of the other attendees.

And especially not a mob of country folk like the Four Nations Trade Alliance!"

"But Tempest is nothing to trifle with…" "No, it is not. Their fighting power is formidable, and one of their diplomats—

a talent by the name of Testarossa—has all but seized the Council for her own."

"Well, let's just see what they bring to the table."

"Absolutely. If that man proves to be talentless, we can step right in and take

over his position. Simple."

"And what demon lord wouldn't pick the most powerful candidate for the

job? I'm sure this one will as well."

They weren't even trying to be secretive about this. I could hear the excited

rumormongering from all across the chamber. Everyone was intensely curious

about whether I had the acumen to back up my reputation, talking loudly to

ensure all their frank opinions reached my ears.

And who could blame them? I had far more than Rozzo's former allies here

today. I even had some crime lords from around the world, each with an iron

grip on their local underground mobster activities. These were the kind of

people who held a monopoly on the world's fortune, the kind of lofty leaders

who'd normally never confer with each other. Indeed, the kind I'd never gained

an audience with back in the day. The fact they were in on rumors about the

Five Elders showed just how vast their networks spread.

These were the sort of people who'd spent their lives constantly outwitting

and outfoxing their competition. Their greed was endless. Rozzo's decline didn't

scare them; they all saw it as an exciting new opportunity. I braced myself once

more—I couldn't let my guard down for a moment around these guys.

In the midst of this furor, someone decided to directly address me.

"Well, look who's here. Mjöllmile, huh? You've sure gotten too big for your

britches, haven't you? Not even gonna say hello to me?"

Gehhh. This was Alecchio, bodyguard of Don Gabbana; a huge man in the

prime of his life with equally huge muscles. He was clad in full-body leather

armor that made him stick out like a sore thumb at this event, not that anyone

dared to bring it up. They'd have been foolish to. Alecchio, after all, was a

retired A-ranked adventurer with such a reputation for sheer violence that nobody in organized crime wasn't aware of him.

We were acquainted, of course, although given the choice, I'd have preferred

never seeing him again in my life. He's like a ferocious beast, is the only way to

put it, one who's constantly starving and stalking his prey. Ever since I met him

as a young man, he's been constantly pestering me for food and money and

such. I'd like to yell at him about it, but he's a living personification of brutality,

you know?

And even worse, he's got Don Gabbana behind him. A towering figure; of

noble blood despite not owning a title, and someone not even the Englesia

royal family can hope to defy. When Alecchio went too far one day and killed

this wannabe street enforcer, the military police wrote the whole affair off as a

suicide—and ever since then, nobody's even thought about crossing that

maniac. I was certainly not going to rattle my saber against Alecchio, not when I

was supposed to be discussing economics. As the man convening this meeting, I

had to weave my way through this situation, even if I came out of it looking

bad. So, with a smile, I faced up to Alecchio.

"Well, well, if it isn't Alecchio! What a surprise to see you in a place like this."

"Huhhh? Who said you could talk to me like that? You really have gotten

cocky while I wasn't payin' attention, huh?"

Oof… Scary. Alecchio wasn't raising his voice, but the sheer intimidation

resonated down to the pit of my stomach. I almost wanted to pee myself, I tell

you. People call me the "emperor of the underground" over in Blumund, but

faced with the real thing like this, I was reminded all over again just how low on

the ladder I really am…

"A-Alecchio, this is s'posed to be a happy event for us all, okay? Maybe you

could talk this over later—"

Bydd was just as awed by him. I guess he knew about Alecchio, and that

knowledge made him quake in his boots, not that I'm one to talk. If anything, I

was impressed Bydd dared to speak to him—I don't think he ever tried

opposing him in the past.

Still, I can't say it was his best idea. "And who the hell do you think you are? Thinkin' you can just step up and

address me… Who gave you permission for that, huh?"

Now his ire was pointed squarely at my bodyguard. Just as I'd thought,

Alecchio had no memory of Bydd—I doubt he saw him as anyone worth

remembering anyway. Someone as small-time as Bydd trying to speak to him

was probably an unforgivable affront in his mind, and even if it wasn't, it

certainly did little to improve his mood.

Back in the day, I would have paid Alecchio some coin and shooed him away.

That wouldn't work today. I was the director of the Four Nations Trade Alliance,

and I couldn't afford to look like a pansy around my business rivals. The people

around us were just standing and smiling, nobody lifting a finger to help me.

They likely saw this as an amusing diversion, but if I let it slide without

comment, it would ruin my reputation with them. They'd see me as incapable

of handling even this level of trouble, and ohhh, how they'd sneer at me

afterward!

"I fear, Alecchio, you might be laboring under some incorrect assumptions.

Right now, I happen to be director of the Four Nations Trade Alliance. As we've

known each other quite a while, I will be happy to let this slide, so would you

mind promptly leaving my sight, please?"

I tried to act as composed as possible. Keeping my voice from shaking took a

lot of effort, but fortunately, I managed to keep it together.

"What?"

Is—is this what they mean when they say you can feel murderous rage in the

air? The very atmosphere seemed to change around Alecchio as his gaze

hardened. It was beyond terrifying.

"M-Mjöllmile…"

Bydd was calling for me now, knees shaking as he sounded almost ready to

cry. But how could I find the time to acknowledge him? I couldn't. I had to keep

my eyes on Alecchio no matter what.

"Whoa, whoa, Mjöllmile, you sure you aren't makin' a big mistake? Or, what,

you think I wouldn't lay hands upon you with all these folks around?" "Ooh…"

Well, yes, I do think that! Anyone with even a modicum of intelligence would

never think of resorting to violence at a place like this. A magical beast who

lived purely on instinct was one thing, but no normal, sensible person would

dream of it. Besides, Alecchio was Don Gabbana's personal bodyguard. If he

started a fight in here, it'd cause untold strife for his boss.

So I believed I was safe…but just as I did, I felt like I saw Alecchio make a

motion with his left hand. Huh? I thought—and then Bydd was pulled down to

the ground, as Gob'emon promptly stepped in front of me. One moment, it

seems, was all it took for Alecchio to try throwing a punch at me, and

Gob'emon had taken it in my place. Gob'emon was the one who'd thrown Bydd

aside as well; I supposed Bydd would have been in too much danger if he'd

stayed there—and in fact, the concussive force of Alecchio's fist had torn poor

Bydd's ear right off.

"You all right, Bydd?"

"Y-yes, sir… Sorry I, ah, couldn't help…"

"Don't worry about it. If you die because of something like this, Sir Rimuru's

going to be enraged."

"H-he would care about me, you think?"

"Of course he would. And I'd be just as mad!"

I reached out to Bydd, helping him up…and even as we spoke, sparks were

flying next to us, as Gob'emon and Alecchio engaged in a tenacious war of

words.

"Were you attempting to kill him?"

"It was an accident—an accident! I was just trying to give him a little love tap.

It wound up toppling him over just because you decided to butt in."

"Don't give me that. He may be inexperienced, but Bydd is my brother-in-

arms. I stood by so as not to shame him, but you went much too far."

"Ha-ha! It's his fault for being such a pushover, ain't it? No weapons are

allowed in here anyway, y'know. What kind of bum dies after gettin' jostled a little bit, huh?"

"…Oh?"

Um… I think the air's shifting around Gob'emon, too. Now I was concerned we

weren't going to hold a business meeting at all…but the next moment, Don

Gabbana strode in, as if on cue.

"Alecchio, what are you doing?"

"Oops. Sorry, boss. I was just saying hello to an old acquaintance of mine."

"You were? Hmm. But isn't that man over there hurt? Here, use this."

What a farce. The bad guy kicking up the dust, and the good guy swooping in

to calm things down. Gabbana's trying to make me owe him a favor, ain't he?

And keeping my head underwater all the while, I might add.

Alecchio, no doubt having picked up on this, sprinkled the healing potion on

Bydd without further complaint. That was bound to leave a stain on his suit—

but, whoa, it immediately repaired his ear. Only a Full Potion could have been

that effective.

"Ohhhh! Just imagine, using an invaluable Full Potion on someone that low-

born!"

"Sir Gabbana never fails to amaze! Why, I suppose even a secret elixir worth a

fortune in itself is a trifling matter to him!"

"Indeed, indeed. With Alecchio's muscle and Gabbana's riches, they make a

practically invincible team, no?"

Hearing all this chitchat from the gallery was doing little to lift my spirits. I felt

a pall over my mind. Things had suddenly grown very ominous, like I had just

awoken from a nightmare.

I shot a glance at Bydd, and he was frozen in place. I could only guess he felt

the same way I did. I mean, come on! We had grown used to having Full Potions

around, mind you. Whenever Bydd had some spare time, he'd go up to

Gob'emon and ask for a little training, and I couldn't tell you how many arms

and legs he might lose in the process…in a single day, no less. No way he'd be

alive without our Full Potions.

Thanks to that, we couldn't imagine life without these potions, really. Only when I overheard the conversation around me did I realize all over again just

how lucky we really were.

"Ah, and look! Look at the shining badge on Gabbana's breast!"

"Yes, I can see it, too. That seal on it is glowing a little."

"It is! That means it's made of real magisteel, you know."

"No doubt about it. It's just like the rumors say. That up-and-coming group,

absorbing one criminal mob after another. That's who that seal belongs to…"

Pulled in by the appreciative crowd, I stole a look at Don Gabbana. What I saw

shocked me. There, shining on his left breast, was a familiar coat of arms—

three snakes intertwined with each other.

How would I not recognize it? We only spent three bloody days bickering over

its design. I think Sir Rimuru kicked it off by saying, "Why don't we go with

snakes? Better to keep it simple, I'd say, instead of bothering with dragons and

whatnot. Snakes symbolize knowledge, and greed, and eternity and stuff, so it'd

be perfect for REG." Then Big Mama countered with "That's right, and snakes

can signify drunkenness as well, which we certainly identify with," and then I

was all "Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! In that case, let's have three entwined snakes, all

entangled like we are after the eighth refill!"

Yes, this was clearly the seal of REG, and while I didn't know all our employees

personally, should I have taken this to believe that REG had absorbed Don

Gabbana's group…?

Instantly, I felt like a fool for acting so scared. This was a chance, not a threat

—I could use old Gabbana here as a foil to show people exactly what sort of

position I was in.

"You, I believe, are president of the Gabbana Merchant Group, right? How do

you intend to atone for this incident?"

"Pardon me?"

"Ah, you're oblivious to the facts, then? You gravely injured one of my

bodyguards. Bydd here, you see, refused to play along with that rabble-rouser

because this is meant to be a serious business meeting—and look what your man did in response!"

"…What did you call me?"

Heh-heh-heh… This is so wonderful. Both servant and master were befuddled

by my return salvo.

"Wh-who's that man daring to defy Gabbana?!"

"He's affiliated with REG—you know, that shadowy group!"

"That's right. And I hear REG's even brought a certain well-known armed

group into its fold. But look at this man!"

"He's certainly in a hurry to die, I assume. Or does he have something up his

sleeve?"

"Are you telling me this Four Nations Trade Alliance has the power to openly

compete with REG?!"

Our audience was getting on my nerves, but being the center of attention

wasn't a bad thing for me right now. Not that I had time to bask in it.

"…You're a dead man."

"Hold on, Alecchio, hold on. Not here. Besides, there's no fun in merely killing

anyone."

"If you say so, boss. I'll tackle him later…"

Better do something about these two men threatening me before handling

anything else. "Quiet, all of you!" I shouted—my voice smooth as butter, not

quavering at all. I could sense that I was back in my element.

It hardly seemed believable that I'd feared Alecchio a moment ago. I mean, I

spend all day discussing matters with people (and monsters…actually, mostly

monsters) far scarier than this. Don Gabbana would seem like less than a flea to

Sir Veldora—he could release just a little bit of his aura, and the man would be

a pile of dust. Perhaps Alecchio could withstand that, but it'd still be no

competition. Anyone who even thought about bringing harm to Sir Veldora

would immediately cease to exist.

That's how scary he is, and I deal with him on a near-daily basis. I've even put my foot down with him, steadfastly refusing his requests for a raise in

allowance. Besides, the town I now call home is practically crawling with magic-

born rated a Calamity-level threat or higher, and I'm managing all their

finances, aren't I? Here they were, these titans who could single-handedly level

a smaller kingdom, and they were sheepishly plodding out of my office after I

yelled at them for demanding a budget increase. That's what my regular life has

become.

This reminded me of a chat I had with Cien a fair while ago.

"I tell you, Testarossa's talented, she works fast, and she couldn't be more

help to me. Beautiful, too. I'm rather jealous of you, Cien!"

"Huh? Oh my… Ha-ha-ha. You're a very funny person, Sir Mjöllmile. I haven't

laughed this hard in a while!"

That was a hearty laugh, considering how calm and levelheaded he usually

was. After that, we managed to strike up a friendship for whatever reason,

enough so that we'd go out for drinks now and again.

The way he put it, Testarossa was a truly fearsome demon. I suppose she

doesn't let on much with me—she's usually so elegant, with that lovely soft

smile, so I never thought of her as scary at all. But I knew all about the events

leading up to her takeover of the Council, so I always tried to be prudent in my

behavior. Sexual Harassment Is a Crime!—that's one of our office's slogans, you

know.

Regardless, I say all this to show that I have numerous kinds of crazy and

amazing people constantly knocking on my door. Now that I'd recalled that, I

had no reason at all to fear Don Gabbana or Alecchio.

"You damned—!!"

Both of them were fuming, faces red with fury, but I couldn't have cared less.

And I think even Bydd was picking up on this reality, too.

"Hey, look, Mjöllmile's too much of a gentleman to say it, so lemme spell it

out for you—you better not talk to him like that, okay? Because I'm one thing,

but he's the sort of person you'd never dream of speaking to that way!"

Look at him, egging them on. But the entire room's eyes were on us now. We had the perfect stage. Let's take Don Gabbana down and establish exactly

where I stand around here.

I flashed the room a bold smile. I'm not exactly useful in a fight, but I get a lot

of compliments about how threatening I can make myself look.

"Yes, Bydd is exactly right. Perhaps I shouldn't have let things slide at first.

Indeed, perhaps I should have given you the discipline you needed from the

start."

"You're absolutely correct, Mjöllmile. Then I wouldn't have had to take his

abuse and get my soddin' ear talked off."

"Indeed, sorry about that. So, again, how should we settle this, Bydd?"

"How about we start by receiving an apology, huh? Maybe we can reconsider

if they show us the right attitude!"

"Fair point, yes. So—Alecchio and Gabbana. If you apologize right now, I will

pretend none of this happened. But if you insist on stirring the pot with me,

well, that changes things, doesn't it? Because by my name as Gard Mjöllmile,

finance minister of the Jura-Tempest Federation and director of the Four

Nations Trade Alliance, I promise you that I'm not afraid to fight! So what'll it

be, you two?!"

I tried to grandstand as much as possible. Their faces stiffened.

"God damn you…"

"Hold on, Alecchio. Calm down. I think there might be a misunderstanding at

work here, but if we did something to anger you, I will gladly apologize. You said

your name was Gard?"

"Gard?"

"Ah, I mean, Sir Mjöllmile…"

Don Gabbana didn't like being corrected like this one bit. But so what? I'd

already beaten him. This meeting hall was full of powerful merchants,

supporting the financial fortunes of Englesia and many other nations—and now,

in front of all these power brokers, Don Gabbana had to acknowledge who I was. I suppose he expected me to back down long ago, but he'd have to be

disappointed. He was staring me down, his snakelike eyes full of murderous

rage, but I wasn't scared in the slightest. The old me might've given him a

tearful apology, but I've grown since then, haven't I?

"Very good. So what am I misunderstanding, exactly?"

I tried throwing Don Gabbana a life raft. He responded by bowing his head,

exposing the throbbing blue veins on his temples.

"It seems my bodyguard was out of line with you, causing you trouble. I think

he was a little too excited for his own good, so if you could overlook his

behavior for me—"

"Pardon? You think you can just smile and say sorry after seriously injuring

someone? My man Bydd here suffered the shame of having his ear torn off, you

realize?"

"Yes, and I provided a potion so he—"

"Ha!"

I tried to scoff as loudly as I could.

"And you think that cheap drug can smooth all this over? That tells me all I

need to know about you!"

Sir Rimuru, worrywart that he is, provides me with enough Full Potions that I

actually carry several on my person as a habit. They were cheap to me—that

much was no lie—so I kept going on the offensive.

"Indeed, if that's all the talent you have, I don't think you have what it takes

to join the vast project I planned to propose. Leave this chamber at once!"

My thunderous voice made Don Gabbana wince. Then, in a cold, penetrating

voice, he rumbled, "I hope you don't regret this"—softly, so only I heard it—and

took Alecchio out of the meeting hall.

Complete victory was mine. The hall was deathly quiet, but the moment Don

Gabbana disappeared from sight, cheers erupted—some for me, some not as

much. The common sentiment, I'm sure, was that nobody expected someone

like me to kick Don Gabbana out of this event. While I had people's attention (and momentum was on my side), I decided to

go right into my opening statement. I followed it by revealing the "make

Blumund a logistical hub" plan Sir Rimuru and Veryard had discussed with me,

successfully earning the interest of most of the audience.

…Interest, yes, but I didn't expect anyone to volunteer to join our plan right

this moment. The reason was simple. I had just picked a fight with Don

Gabbana, one of REG's most public faces, and I'm sure they all expected a hit

man would rub me out soon enough. If the main organizer was gone, well, they

could all aim to become his successor afterward—and besides, if the core of this

plan was no longer breathing, the entire project itself was in danger of

collapsing. It was nothing the merchants here would jump into that easily, I

suppose.

But that actually worked in my favor. Simply surviving today built people's

trust in me, after all. Plus, I was publicly pitting myself against the REG, and

given that I was the "G" in that acronym, victory was all but guaranteed. So I

gave them my pitch as fervently as I could, and saw my audience react with just

the kind of excited enthusiasm I was hoping for.

The next morning, as we left our hotel, we spotted a carriage parked nearby,

painted entirely black. Pretty gutsy move. This was a public place, you know.

"Get in," Alecchio growled at us. I grinned back at him as I climbed up, Bydd

and Gob'emon leading the way. "…You sure got guts, you know that?" he said,

blustering as he hopped in last, but he sounded like nothing but a sore loser to

me.

"So where are we going?"

"Somewhere good. Enjoy the trip. It'll be your last."

Alecchio said no more to me after that, so I followed his lead as the wagon

clattered on.

We reached our destination after around twenty minutes. Judging by the

distance from the hotel, we were likely in the city's more affluent neighborhood

—just as I thought. I breathed a sigh of relief. If I had been taken into Don Gabbana's territory, that would have been cause for at least a little distress, but

now there was nothing to fret about. No, we were at the location the Sons of

the Veldt used as their Englesia headquarters. I had assisted with its renovation,

so I knew the site well.

"Okay, get out. You've got people more fearsome than you could imagine

waiting for you. Ahhh, I can't wait to see you piss your pants as you grovel for

your life before them."

I turned a piteous eye on the ranting Alecchio. Honestly, I felt a little bad for

him.

"Hold on, you. Why're you lookin' at me like that?"

"Mm? Well, fine, I'll tell you. After all…"

After all, it'd be over for him soon.

"After all what, you bastard? What're you talking about?"

Even Alecchio had sensed something off about my attitude. I saw a little bit of

concern on his face, even.

Several men were milling about in front of the building before us. They ran up

when the carriage stopped.

"Alecchio," one of them said, "I have a message."

"…What?"

"We have some pretty high leadership waiting down below."

"High leadership? The Seven Blades?"

"No…higher."

"Don't tell me the elders from the Sage Cabal are here? Or the shadow forces

of the Darksky Horde…"

"These leaders are serving as guides."

"…The three bosses, then?!"

Alecchio sounded pretty surprised, but I had never heard of any of these

groups, so I couldn't imagine who they referred to. I inferred they were all part of the Gabbana family, and probably new recruits, too. Not even I have a full

grasp of all the groups REG now has under its umbrella—which is partly why we

end up with unhappy events like these. But it's not like the Western Nations

had this many powerful gangs in the first place…

"We've already guided Gabbana inside."

"Right. Let's go."

So Alecchio, looking more tense than before, took us into the building.

We were going into the basement, and it was actually quite luxurious down

there. The Sons of the Veldt used to have an altar, but we took all that out and

converted it into an audience room. Sir Rimuru wanted a place with a lot of

atmosphere, something befitting a shadowy secret cabal, and so we made no

compromises on any little detail. This may even be fancier than the chamber Sir

Rimuru uses in Tempest to receive his finest guests. As that nation's budgetary

overseer, it's my job to ensure we're not wasting vast sums of money—but as

REG, we're just a bunch of criminals, and we can use our filthy lucre any darn

way we like.

"…And why are you so calm right now?" Alecchio asked, perhaps a tad

anxious.

"Well, who knows?" I replied.

He clicked his tongue at that and said no more as we proceeded three floors

down, finding ourselves in front of a large door.

"Come in."

"V-Vigan? Of the Seven Blades? You're guarding the door?"

"Pfft. Alecchio, eh? I used to respect you, you know. I even thought about

recommending you for a position in the Blades the next time we had an

opening. Damn idiot."

"Wha—? Vigan?! What did I—?"

"Just get your sorry hide in here!" Vigan glared at Alecchio's servants. "And all

of you, wait here for me. I'm only letting Alecchio and our guests in."

That was valid. Best to keep the number of people who knew I was one of the bosses to a minimum. I silently followed his orders.

"…Here we go," Alecchio said as he came in, the rest of us following. Vigan

joined us at the rear, closing the door behind him. This door was magically

enhanced, ensuring no conversations leaked out of this room—no matter what

happened in here, no one on the outside would ever know.

Despite being so deep down, the room was filled with dazzling light, the

flames from an untold number of candles dancing around us. The candles were

key, Sir Rimuru insisted, even if magic would be far easier. That kind of

extravagance, he said, only adds to the allure.

There were no real dividing walls down here, so it was more of a vast

chamber than a room, really. That was why it could work as an audience

chamber, but as a rule, only our top leaders ever went inside—in other words,

the sort of people who knew my real identity. Right now, though, over half of

the people occupying this chamber were unfamiliar to me. There were nearly a

hundred of these leaders, and they all kept their gazes on me as I strode into

the chamber.

"Hey!"

Alecchio shouted to stop me. I ignored him. He attempted to place a hand on

my shoulder, but Vigan kicked it away even before Bydd and Gob'emon could

act. I suppose he had been briefed on me when he was assigned door-guard

duty.

The reaction from the management I didn't know ran the gamut—some were

surprised, while others looked simply befuddled. The leaders I did know all

promptly took a knee in reverence, and seeing that must have made the truth

dawn on the others, because they quickly followed suit.

"N-no… S-Sir Mjöllmile is one of our bosses?!"

Don Gabbana's flustered yell rang across the quiet chamber. We kept the air

cool down here, but with us being in such a vast underground room, his voice

had an echo to it. Apparently he had just been delivering a speech to some of

the people here, people I knew well. No doubt he'd been trying to convince

them to kill me as a lesson, in order to show the Four Nations Trade Alliance

exactly where it stood with him. "That's right. The man you've just spent this entire time impassionately

pleading with us to kill is one of our very own head honchos."

He was answered not by me, but by a figure in an eye-catching, revealing

dress. This was Glenda Attley, an extremely talented woman who posed as the

REG boss in our place, and what she just said confirmed all my suspicions about

Gabbana. Funny how it seemed like they were talking about someone else,

though, not me.

"G-gehhhhh?!"

The normally composed Don Gabbana could barely remain upright. Once

upon a time he was a godlike figure to me; I never thought I'd witness him in

such a sad state.

"Well done, Glenda. Thanks to you, everything's going well with our project.

Our conference yesterday was a smashing success."

"Thank you very much for the compliment, boss! If you could bring my merit

points into consideration as well…"

"Certainly, certainly. I'll provide you with double the usual."

"Well, how kind of you. I'm glad you're so understanding!"

Glenda guided me toward the platform that used to house the altar. We had

three seats in a row up there, and I sat myself down on one of them.

After seeing Glenda's reaction to me, nobody in the room voiced any concern

about me being their boss. That's how much they all feared her, I suppose.

And now, before my eyes, Don Gabbana and Alecchio were being held down,

ready to be whisked away to their fates. One of them had publicly voiced a

desire to have a boss killed; the other had treated me with the most abject of

rudeness; and now we needed to figure out what to do with them.

The other leaders were apparently unanimous in their agreement that the

two of them should receive the death penalty.

"There is no way to compensate for this arrogance except through death."

"We'd better not kill them quickly, either. Let's torture them for a week first, to teach any other disloyal members a lesson."

"Yeah. Sacrificing them to a demon could be interesting. That, or using their

corpses to create a chimera."

"You'll recall how that man so gleefully described all the ways we could kill

our own boss. Why don't we try them on him instead, I say?"

It was a downright brutal conversation, let me tell you. The color drained

from Don Gabbana's face, his breathing growing ragged. I could see a wet spot

in his pants, but I pretended that I didn't.

Alecchio wasn't looking much better. I was sure, now that he'd realized his

impending doom, he was trying to work out whether to attempt resistance. But

we had the strongest of underground leaders in this room. If I'd been alone, he

could certainly have killed me in a few seconds, but many of these other leaders

were formidable fighters in their own right. It'd be impossible to overpower all

of them—he stood no chance against Glenda alone, in fact.

Enthusiasm grew in the chamber as the leaders tried outdoing themselves

with new and innovative torture methods. What should I do now, then? I

pondered the question as I looked at the downtrodden duo in front of me.

Honestly, both of them had made serious errors, but I wouldn't have called

them guilty of a crime. Acting macho and browbeating some new organization

horning in on your turf is part and parcel of being a mobster. Being so openly

defiant against the man who runs your group is a problem, but how could he

have known when he had no idea who I am? And that attack on Bydd was

infuriating, but even that all got worked out with no permanent consequences.

Sir Rimuru was aware of the conference I organized, besides, and I'm sure he

had someone there watching us to ensure nothing serious happened. In fact,

several of Soei's troops were stationed in the room right now. If things really

went awry, I was confident it would be stopped at once before anyone was

truly in danger.

Along those lines, I was starting to think capital punishment for Don Gabbana

and Alecchio was going too far.

"Order!"

I quieted down the room, now that I'd collected my thoughts.

"They will not be punished. Gabbana is no traitor to our organization; he

simply didn't know I was the boss. If he betrays our trust in him again, that is a

different matter, but I am going to overlook this particular event."

I was still annoyed about a lot of things, but I needed to restrain myself. That

was my decision, but not everyone was for it.

"You're being too lenient! It'd be a terrible precedent to set!"

This was greeted with applause from many people.

"Boss," one of the extremists in the room said, "don't tell me you're an

amateur in this field? Because to lifers like us, saving face is more important

than almost anything else. If you let people screw around with you like this,

nobody's gonna want to serve you any longer."

Indeed, some of the group were starting to openly question my authority. I didn't mind dissatisfaction about the decisions I made, but I really couldn't have

this.

"Whoever said that just now, come forward."

A young man took a step toward me, a fearless look on his face.

"This is Yang from the Black Nails. We fought together in the same mercenary

army before, and I can affirm that he's a stern, severe man who never shows

mercy to his enemies. He is talented as well, equivalent to an A in rank."

This was Girard filling me in. He was the leader of the Sons of the Veldt, and

somewhere along the line, he'd taken position next to me here. Smart fellow.

I nodded at him and turned to the man before me.

"Your name is Yang, then?"

"Yeah."

"And you call me an amateur?"

"Am I wrong? Because if you show mercy that readily, in this business…"

"You think I'm letting people screw with me?"

"…Again, am I wrong?"

Good grief. Does Yang realize how much contempt he's showing with every

remark?

…Well, maybe he does. Maybe he's using this chance to plant seeds of doubt

in everybody's minds so he can stage a coup someday. They say that "those

without power can never thrive in the darkness"—that you have to constantly

show your strength, lest someone dethrone you—but I didn't want REG to

become that kind of company. I needed to explain reality to him, and fast.

"Who's screwing with me?"

"Huh?"

"I'm asking you who could beat me, Yang. Do you think you could?"

"N-no…"

Yang shot a glance at Glenda. I guess it was she, and not the Sons of the Veldt, who had taken down the Black Nails.

"You said saving face is important. Shouldn't you be taking responsibility for

addressing me with such contempt?"

"I, er…"

"Glenda, I take back what I said about your merit points earlier."

"Aw, come on…"

"Silence! Because it's become clear to me that Yang's far from the only one of

you failing to treat your boss with respect! You have no right to criticize

Gabbana at all!"

Don Gabbana and Alecchio gave me surprised looks. That made something

else click in my mind. Were they being used?

"Glenda, you've been putting ideas into their heads, haven't you? Setting

things up so someone would challenge me to try giving themselves a boost?"

"Oh, you noticed?"

"Of course I did. And you should be glad it was me here. If it was one of the

other bosses, we'd have some serious problems…"

"No problems at all. I already discussed this matter with Lady Elmesia. She

advised me to proceed and hide it from you."

"Oh…"

Big Mama's mean streak can cause me so much trouble sometimes. Things

were working out well with this in the end, but still.

"Yang, I'd love to meet the person who tries screwing with me just because

I'm letting Gabbana off the hook. That applies to all of you here. I'm not going

to demand that you stop thinking about overthrowing me, but you better be

ready for the consequences. I might be too weak to survive any attempts on my

life, but let me make this clear: If I go, all of REG goes."

I meant this as a clear warning. It made Yang visibly shiver. I wasn't bragging

or bluffing, he knew. It was the honest truth.

"S-so…does this mean the other two bosses are…?" "You don't need to know."

"You said it. Why are you so keen on learning things? People get killed for

knowing too much."

Girard and Glenda answered before I could. It silenced the other leaders, who

had sweat dripping down their brows. I decided to give it one final push.

"Now! I will not try Gabbana and his bodyguard, and I assume none of you

have complaints about this? Let me hear you!"

"""No, sir!"""

They all bowed before me, showing their allegiance.

"Well, Yang, you should rejoice. I'll let your insolence go this time, but you

won't receive another chance."

"Of course! Thank you very much. I promise I will work harder than ever to

repay the favor!"

"You will? Good. That's the kind of spirit I like to see."

I smiled, satisfied. I was now confident in my full control of REG, and based on

this experience, I decided to enact a core set of regulations for our firm:

1. Do not betray your friends.

2. Be gracious enough to forgive the mistakes of others.

3. Do not punch down or bring misfortune upon anyone.

Those three should suffice.

Not betraying your friends went without saying; we would sentence anyone

who broke that one to death. Forgiving others' mistakes was trickier, but we

were positioning REG as a last resort for people who were down on their luck.

We weren't gonna receive the cream of the crop, in other words, so I was

asking our people on the ground to try and make up for any errors. Nothing was

going to change unless the higher-ups carried out systematic reform, and I

wanted to get this nailed down now, while all the top managerial staff were in

one place.

Finally, rule number three was the most important one. REG was going to be an amalgamation of all the big forces in organized crime, but if we constantly

tried pulling each other down, we'd never be able to take on our public

merchant competition. I'm sure some people had made a lot of money with

that approach, but going forward, it was completely prohibited.

I wanted everyone here to realize that we wielded far more influence than

before, and that meant we had to contribute to society in a fair way. We

weren't a lawless mob; we were a chivalrous group, one that helped the weak

and crushed the powerful. That was my wish, and it was Sir Rimuru's, too. Given

our underground position, we certainly couldn't whitewash everything we got

involved in like that, but I didn't want us to abandon our pride. If the top

management is corrupt, the guys at the bottom have no way to defy them. That

applied to me as well, and I wanted to be sure I didn't forget it.

"I know it's hard to change your ways immediately," I said to wrap things up,

"but you should see these as the rules REG expects you to follow. Give our

younger kids time to learn. They need to know there's more than one way to

survive out there."

The leaders meekly pondered this. They were used to doing all kinds of dirty

things—it was impossible for them to change their thought processes that

quickly. But with the right use of my (or, really, Sir Rimuru's) authority, I didn't

think it was impossible.

I suppose this is silencing the opposition with my power, but I'm dealing with

people who believe that power is everything, so I think it's the right move to

make. Hopefully it'll help foster change in everyone else, too.

So the Gabbana family was set to be dismantled, its members reassigned to

other organizations. Gabbana would be treated as my personal adviser; he'd

work at our Blumund headquarters under a different identity. He was good with

financial matters and certainly talented in other ways as well, so I'd hate to

leave him idle.

I decided to let him oversee our magitrain project, which was a constant,

aggravating thorn in my side. It's really Sir Rimuru's fault, you know—he's at the

core of it all. He comes up with these wild ideas, and then he pushes me to implement them. And that's fine! It's my job, and I won't deny that it's an

attractive project to work on. But he really needs to remember that I've only

got two hands. I'm an average human being, not at all like him; I need to sleep

at night. It's hard to turn him down whenever he says, "It's all yours, Mollie!" to

me, but when I call off a project due to budget concerns, it's often for the sake

of my own health. Of course, with this much money on the line, that excuse is

gonna stop working pretty fast—and that's why recruiting Gabbana was a

stroke of luck for me.

Gabbana, by the way, complained to me on a daily basis. "Damn it," he'd

grumble, "I'm thankful for this, but look at all the work you've allowed to pile

up in here! I had no idea it would be this much of a trial!" Said "work" was all

stuff Sir Rimuru had irrationally demanded from me, so I really wished he'd

complain to Sir Rimuru, not me. (I did feel just a tad guilty, though, so I took

measures to ensure he was generously compensated for the job.)

As for Alecchio, I left him in the hands of Gob'emon. The ogre mage himself

requested this—he wanted to settle matters with Alecchio, apparently, after

the whole thing with Bydd. So we arranged a fight…one that Alecchio had no

right to refuse, but I dangled a chance at upper management in his face to

sweeten the deal. It ended, as you'd expect, with Gob'emon dominating.

"Do you understand now? You're always going to find someone stronger than

you. And even I would be considered merely above average in my homeland.

Strength is not something to show off; it is hidden within your heart. It must be

used for just causes, to protect the things you must never give up. That is what I

was taught, and it is not too late for you, either. You ought to take this moment

to reevaluate yourself."

I'd like to think that speech—plus the trouncing he received—opened

Alecchio's eyes a little. And I was right. Soon he was volunteering to serve next

to Gob'emon.

So things ended rather quietly for the two men who'd tried picking a fight

with me. But we announced something quite different to the general public. We

needed to leverage REG to give the Four Nations Trade Alliance the flashiest

debut possible, but we also needed to find some happy compromise to keep

REG from losing face in the process. Thus, for starters, we took the mansion we had purchased to serve as the

FNTA's Englesia branch and blew it to cinders. All the staff was evacuated in

advance, but the fallout led to a lot of gossip among the general public. That,

and the journalists Diablo introduced me to wrote some truly wonderful

coverage for us. They portrayed REG as this fearsome, ominous entity, while

singing my praises as someone who can't be intimidated. And why would I bow

to mob activity like this? I'm the finance minister of Tempest, for goodness'

sake.

The breakup of the Gabbana family made for big headlines as well, and

between all the coverage, I think we got across to people that the FNTA's a lot

bigger than they thought. On top of that, we spread rumors that REG and the

FNTA had declared a truce to rest and regroup their forces. This theory came to

be generally accepted by the public, and with that, the whole thing was over.

So that was how we safely got the FNTA off the ground…but looking at the

earnings reports from our branches, even I was left speechless. Between you

and me, these branches were earning the equivalent of several dozen gold coins

an hour—more than my yearly salary as a Tempest minister in the space of one

day, I suppose. In the eyes of the public, I was earning more in an hour than

most of them could expect to make all year.

By the way, we also gave Benimaru and Soei payment for their services

helping REG—I think around fifty gold coins per month. Soei's agents working

directly for REG were earning vast amounts more, though, and all their

necessary expenses were covered, too. The same went for Glenda and Girard,

the people we had posing as bosses—a boss needs a lavish lifestyle, after all, or

else their associates will get suspicious.

Finally, we also received compensation from our respective governments.

Essentially, Big Mama, Sir Rimuru, and myself were each entitled to 2 percent of

the profits. This was paid yearly, but even now, my account was growing at a

shocking pace. I consider myself a lucky man, yes, but this lucky? It's all so

scarily unreal to me.

But my ambitions don't end here. I've got big dreams, you know. I'm not

about to stay satisfied with these little successes. My name is Gard Mjöllmile, the man whose destiny was changed after I met

Sir Rimuru. I want to run hard, climbing as high as I can my whole life, so that I

have no regrets later on. And until death finally visits me in the end, I'm never

going to stop trying.