Chapter 54: Audience with the King of Paptes

"This appears to be the subject of the investigation you requested, Lord Maor."

Lieutenant Sylphy, a kemonomimi girl in an officer’s uniform, gave her report while keeping her animal ears hidden beneath her cap. Behind her followed her superior officer, Zex.

"What do you think, Lord Maor?"
Zex turned to the Demon Lord walking beside him.

"Hmm… I believe so, but I’m not entirely certain."
The Demon Lord’s tone carried a hint of hesitation.

They were deep within the Central Research Institute—a secret military factory built in the heart of the Dalai Tokazma Empire’s central mountain range. The facility was responsible for producing the core components of the Imperial Army’s mechanized weapons known as Armed Dolls. Only a handful of personnel were ever granted access to its interior, and even within the empire, those who had seen inside were exceedingly rare.

To preserve its secrecy, all engineers and staff stationed there were forbidden from any outside contact for years at a time. Even when they were finally allowed to leave, their memories of the factory’s interior were erased through magical conditioning. The empire’s counter-espionage measures bordered on the obsessive.

"…No, I still can’t be certain," Maor murmured. "I suppose we’ll have to ask a specialist."

Reaching into his robes, the Demon Lord drew out a cord-like object and arranged it into a circle on the floor.
"It’s only a simple setup, but it should be enough to bypass this facility’s barrier… Gate—Open."

The air before them split apart as a massive black void suddenly formed in the space ahead.

"Lord Zexais! Please stay behind me!"
Sylphy stepped forward, sword drawn and ready to defend.

"It’s all right, Sylphy. Look—see for yourself."
As Zex gestured toward the gate, a figure emerged from within.

"Good grief… I was enjoying a pleasant rest, and now someone’s summoned me again. So then—who requires my presence this time? …Ah! If it isn’t Lord Maor himself."

Out stepped a bizarre figure from the pitch-black void—a skeleton-faced man with a red-and-green striped mohawk, wearing a double-breasted suit beneath a white lab coat. His eye sockets darted curiously around the room.

"Hey, Heishil. How many times do I have to tell you? My name’s Maor. And do something about that face—there are humans here, you know."
"Ah, my apologies, Lord Maor."

Rubbing at his skull, Heishil’s features shifted until his face resembled that of a rather odd-looking man. It wasn’t illusion magic exactly, yet something about it still felt… unnatural.

"Better? Now then, who might these fine people be? Especially that charming young lady over there—I find myself quite intrigued."

"These two are friends of mine: Zex and his subordinate. This one is my associate and subordinate, Heishil. Be nice."
"My name is Zex. I handle trade work on this side of the continent."
"I-I’m Sylphy! It’s an honor to meet you!"

Zex smiled warmly and offered his hand. Heishil accepted the handshake without hesitation, while Sylphy, still wary, bowed politely instead.

"My, how courteous! I’m Heishil. I dabble in a bit of business myself, so as a token of our lovely first meeting, I’d like to offer the young lady a small gift."

Without any noticeable movement, Heishil suddenly appeared close to Sylphy and gently placed something in her hand.

"Huh—?!"

By the time she realized how close he’d gotten, it was too late. Sylphy jumped back in alarm, sweat forming on her brow as she looked down at the object he had given her. It was a smooth, rod-like item, warm to the touch—almost like human skin. When she focused on it, it twitched slightly on its own. A magical device, perhaps?

"W-what is this…?"
"That, my dear, is a ‘vibration wand’ of my own invention! The more it’s used, the more it learns from its owner, refining its movements to provide optimal comfort. Ingenious, no?"

Heishil nodded proudly, clearly pleased with himself.
"…??"
Poor Sylphy had absolutely no idea what the eccentric inventor was talking about.

"Sylphy. Return that to Mr. Heishil, please."
"Ah—yes, sir."

Following Zex’s unusually firm tone, she quickly handed the device back.
"How unfortunate. I was certain you’d appreciate it."

"Quit fooling around, Heishil. Take a look at this. I can’t make sense of it."
"Hmm? Let’s see here…"

Heishil turned his attention to the towering armored golem before them, along with the vast machinery that surrounded it. He began to inspect the setup with obvious fascination.

"Fascinating. These appear to be replicas of something I constructed centuries ago. Though… some components do seem to be original."

"Are these genuine models?"
"Judging by their age, I’d say they were surplus units from our own army that were never properly decommissioned—and somehow ended up here. Most regrettable, I must say."

"So, they were smuggled out."
"That would be my conclusion as well."

The Demon Lord and Heishil fell silent for a moment.
"…Lord Maor, it seems we’ve confirmed our suspicions."
"Indeed. Zex—sorry for dragging you into something that should’ve stayed on our side of the border."

"Not at all. But what about the equipment here—the tools and machinery?"
"We’ll destroy them. These things were never meant to exist on this side."
"Agreed. In that case, allow me to assist."

With that, Zex produced a massive black war mace from seemingly nowhere and brought it down upon one of the nearby golems.

A thunderous crash echoed through the factory as the golem crumpled under the impact, its frame bursting apart in a violent explosion. The blast sent debris scattering across the floor like shrapnel.

"These appear to be spare units—mostly Stone or Wood Golems reinforced with metal plating. Hardly the real deal," Zex observed calmly.
"It’d be troublesome if they had Iron Golems mixed in, but it looks like we’re in the clear, Lord Zex," Sylphy added, keeping her blade ready.

From beyond the steel doors came shouting voices.
"Intruders!"
"Call the guards!"
"I’ll sortie in Unit Three!"

The explosion had clearly given them away. From the hallway outside came the rhythmic clanking of armored footsteps—the sound of more golems marching toward them.

"In that case, we’ll handle the guards. Lord Maor, please prioritize destroying the production machinery."
"Understood. I’m counting on you, Heishil."
"Hmph… Lord Maor, you’ve always been rather demanding, haven’t you?"

Grumbling, Heishil raised his hands and began casting spells on the dormant golems nearby. One after another, their eyes flared to life as they went berserk—smashing tools, benches, and heavy machinery in a wild rampage.

"Honestly," Heishil muttered to himself, "they went through all the trouble of adding a semi-automatic control system using a piloting lever. So inefficient! If it were me, I’d make them think for themselves—perhaps by embedding a spirit, or transplanting a living brain. That way, you wouldn’t need any operator at all."

Maor chuckled quietly as he tore a steel beam from one of the machines and bent it like paper.

"Well, I suppose their engineers were doing their best to innovate in their own way. They’ve certainly tried hard enough."

"But still…" He examined the crude machinery with a critical eye. "A bit more originality wouldn’t hurt."

Thus fell the Demon Lord’s unflattering verdict.

"Oh! Lady Sonia! You have my gratitude for coming!"

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty."

The voice that greeted me belonged to His Majesty Amashin, King of the Paptes Kingdom.

He reminded me a bit of my father, Merkuma—broad-shouldered, loud, and radiating that same muscle-brained energy.

Standing beside him was a strikingly beautiful woman—surely the queen, I thought. She had a gentle, dignified air about her… and come to think of it, Prince Sirot did take after her.
Yes, definitely. The prince hadn’t inherited his father’s rugged features or burly frame. Good for him.

We had departed from the Kingdom of Sugarcreek about a week ago, and after a long but uneventful journey, finally arrived in Paptes.
The distance itself wasn’t great—if it were just me flying, I could’ve made it in a single day—but moving an entire detachment with supply wagons inevitably took time.
Even so, we managed to deliver all the aid supplies without a single hitch. An auspicious start, I’d say.

Incidentally, those supplies were something I may have begged Father to prepare for us.
After all—no army can fight on an empty stomach.

At the same time, I needed reliable information on what was truly happening in Paptes.
So, we enlisted the aid of the Paptes Knights and sent Sugarcreek scouts across the region.
Information and logistics—those are the twin lifelines of any campaign.

By the way, Marquis Alan of the Frontier had fallen ill. The long journey and his heavy responsibilities had clearly taken their toll, so he was currently resting in a manor provided by the King of Paptes.
Come on, Marquis—pull yourself together, please.

Then again, thanks to his absence, no one had complained about me not wearing that ridiculous armor anymore, so I’d quietly ditched it.
Instead, I was now dressed in something closer to a Sugarcreek officer’s uniform. Much easier to move around in.

"It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve grown into quite the beauty. Is Lord Merkuma in good health?"
King Amashin’s face softened into a warm smile.

"Yes, Your Majesty, my father is doing well. I’ve come as his representative on this occasion, and I pray I can be of some service to you."

"Ha! Just your presence here is service enough. The weapons and food you’ve brought from Sugarcreek have been a tremendous help. Be sure to convey my gratitude to your father."

"I will, Your Majesty. But before anything else, our top priority should be restoring peace to the Paptes Kingdom."

"Indeed… Indeed. Allow me to express my sincere apologies for the trouble we’ve caused you—first my foolish son’s disgrace, and now yet another burden upon you. As both a king and a father, I am truly sorry."

He bowed deeply.
"! P-please, Your Majesty, raise your head. The royal families of Sugarcreek and Paptes have long been bound by friendship. I’ve only done what is natural. If my efforts can be of any help, even in the smallest way, I am truly honored."

"I see, I see… Well said. Hm. Still, your beauty is enough to stir any man’s fighting spirit. If I were just a few years younger—ow! ow ow ow!"

The queen beside him turned away, expression perfectly composed—but her hand had clearly delivered a swift pinch to His Majesty’s side.
Did… something happen there?

"Ahem! E-er, right then." He coughed awkwardly and straightened his posture. "As you may know, my younger brother has taken up arms against the royal family. Just recently, it was confirmed that his faction attacked one of our official knight orders—the Silverwheel Knights. Thus, we have concluded that further negotiations are meaningless. The time has come to settle this by force."

"What—already?"
That was fast! We’d barely arrived, and they were already talking about a final battle?

"Thanks to your swift arrival, our troops’ morale is soaring. Meanwhile, our enemies seem to be in disarray—their movements are sluggish. Therefore, we must strike now, while the advantage is ours, and crush the traitors before the Dalai Tokazma Empire can use this conflict as a pretext to intervene."

Hmm… I suppose that logic makes sense.
Still, wouldn’t it be wiser to gather a bit more intel before rushing in?

"The goddess of war smiles upon us even now! Everyone—prepare for battle!"

"Ooohhh!"

The soldiers roared their approval. Their morale was certainly high…
Maybe a little too high.

I couldn’t help feeling just a little uneasy.