"Is it because this is a different place? The Humans here seem to be a different breed, hm?"
All along the way over, Aura had felt a bit puzzled. Normally, when Humans ran into the Demon Race, weren't they supposed to either charge straight in yelling about "friendship and bonds and whatnot," or else grease their heels and bolt off down the road right quick, nanoda?
Compared to the Humans of Gaderia, the Humans here were either so thin they were nothing but skin and bone, or else as fat as farm-raised hogs.
But the thing that struck Aura as strangest of all was this: she, who had never once cared about Humans' outward shape or appearance before, now found herself making distinctions between them. Back in the days of the war, to her, Humans had been either enemies who got in the way, or else tools that worked just fine so long as you lopped off their heads.
"Hend! You scum, you lowlife rogue! Are you plotting treason? Did you bring these Demon Race creatures here?!"
In his fury, the two little tufts of the Kinton Lord's mustache trembled violently. With great effort he heaved his rolls of fat free of the sofa and snatched up the expensive jeweled sword from beside the table.
Hend — outsiders called him the King of the Kinton Mercenaries, while the nobles called him the wild dog of Kinton. So long as you paid a sufficient fee, this rogue would lead his mercenary band to sweep away anything and everything. And that scar, running from the corner of his eye all the way down to his neck, had once stirred up a bloody storm across Kinton — in clashes with the Northern Empire and the nations of the Central Lands, and even in subjugation campaigns through forests overrun with monsters and against small detachments of the Demon King's Army.
Faced with this belated introduction, the burly Scar-Face merely shrugged and gave no reply. He was indeed a rogue, a wild dog — but he had a keen nose and knew which way the wind was blowing, able to bend or stand firm as the moment required. Whether to guard a single scrap of meat to the death, or to follow a tiger on the hunt — the answer needed no spelling out.
"You, Demon Race over there — what is it you want? Wealth? A title of nobility? A handsome man? I can give you all of them! Don't believe a word that wild dog says!"
The Kinton Lord had a bit of an eye for things, after all. He'd realized that Hend was not the mastermind behind this affair — that the short-statured female demon before him was the true power, the strongest one, who had made even the wild dog submit. "..."
"Hey, say something, would you. Since you're together with Hend, you must be able to understand Human speech too. Leave him and join me — I'll give you something better!"
Hearing this attitude from their leader, the other nobles set aside the amusements at hand as well, all chiming in and fawning one after another, until the whole place was a clamor of voices, and the Lord's Manor grew lively once more.
"Tch." Draht, never one for much patience, curled his lip. Threads of Mana coiled in the gaps between his fingers — he was already itching to make his move.
Linie, meanwhile, just stood there in a daze, not the slightest bit interested, as though none of this had anything to do with her at all.
Hend sneered inwardly. Wealth? Status? Beauty? Perhaps such things really would tempt some people — but this was the Demon Race we were talking about. So there truly were fools like this in the world. The Demon King had been destroyed by the Hero not so long ago, and already they had forgotten the terror of the Demon Race.
No — that wasn't quite right. This was a crowd that had always lurked behind the scenes, who had never witnessed the Demon Race with their own eyes nor dealt with them in person — smart-aleck fools who thought themselves clever.
Those things were powerful, savage monsters — and ones possessed of reason, at that!
"Tell me — am I being a little too lenient with Humans right about now?"
The moment Aura's words fell, Draht broke into a knowing smile.
The threads of Mana stretched out and sliced across — in the span of a single breath, the Kinton Lord's arm, the one holding the jeweled sword, was severed away by a flash of white light. The woman attending at his side was splattered head to toe with blood and fainted dead away on the spot. "Wooaaaahhhhh!" A shriek like a pig being slaughtered rang out through the entire Lord's Manor!
Aura picked up the jeweled sword that had dropped to the floor and gave a kick to the Lord, who was rolling about on the ground clutching at his arm.
Just one kick — within the tolerance range of the Magic of Obedience.
"You're presuming to teach me how to do my job?"
Aura swept an expressionless gaze around the room. The scene just now had drained the color from every face; for a moment their minds went blank, and they had no idea what to do.
"From now on, this place belongs to the Demon King's Army — no, to one of the Seven Sages of Destruction, Aura the Guillotine!"
Aura drew out the Scales of Obedience that hung at her waist — Magic of Obedience!
"From this moment on, none of you are to leave! Who's the one in charge around here?"
Under the working of the magic, every gaze converged upon the Kinton Lord, who lay half-dead on the floor. The situation turned a touch awkward all at once.
"..." Aura fell silent for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.
Off to the side, Hend struggled to hold back his laughter, Draht scratched his head, and Linie was gazing off into space at the dishes on the table.
"Um… I'm the vice-lord here… Although it's the Lord who manages the important affairs, I understand a fair bit of it myself."
The scrawny, slight-framed adjutant who had been hiding in the corner this whole time came forward with both hands raised, trembling all over.
"Mm, very good. From now on, just treat me as the Lord of this place." Aura tossed the jeweled sword down beside the adjutant.
"Eh? Oh — yes." A Demon Race seizing a territory and wanting to be the Humans' lord — even a King, no less. If it were an Elf or a Dwarf, perhaps it might still be conceivable; but these were two races as incompatible as fire and water. The adjutant had never heard of anything so absurd. Well — now this absurd thing was unfolding right before his eyes.
"As expected of Lady Aura — what a discerning eye! In all of Kinton, he's probably the only talent worth using anyhow."
Hend slipped in a timely flattering remark from the side, drawing intense displeasure from Draht.
For some reason, Aura found that this bootlicker Hend had actually started to grow on her.
Violent slaughter had gone out of fashion. If one only ever exterminated, then what would there be left to destroy afterward?
This was a notion that had vaguely taken root in Aura earlier, when Nanoda had compelled her to visit the various territories as Gaderia's envoy of peace — or perhaps it was because she'd been bound by the backlash of the Magic of Obedience for far too long. Either way, Aura had shifted from her old ways of hunting and killing Humans to instead keeping Humans penned and raised.
To use the Humans she kept penned to pit them against their own kind — Humans against Humans, slaughtering one another. What a delightful thing.
Humans like that ought to display an even deeper despair, wouldn't they?
Deliver hope to them, and then, at the very end — shatter it!
Eh? Wait a moment — why does this seem a little bit like that bastard Macht's way of doing things?
Never mind. Whatever.
After this whole string of inner fantasies, Aura, wearing the face of a dead fish, handed down her death-decree to Draht.
"Do it!"
"As you command."
A flick of the hand, a head dropped — and from that moment on, the Kinton region had a Kinton Lord no more.
"Decisive in slaughter! Recognizing talent and putting it to use! Wise and mighty! What grand vision and strategy! Lady Aura has the bearing of an emperor, yah! The Northern Empire, the nations of the Central Lands — take them all! There's nothing Lady Aura's magic can't accomplish!"
Hend launched into a barrage of flattery and licked right up to her, putting on a tremendous show of "loyalty" and survival instinct.
Every one of the nobles curled their lips. You're a rogue — since when did you get such a silver tongue?
Draht was filled with regret: why didn't he himself have the ability to ingratiate himself with Aura like this? This Scar-Face was a deeply threatening presence — one of these days he'd have to quietly do this Human in.
"How was that one made, I wonder?" Linie crouched halfway down, studying the exquisitely plated dishes.
How long had it been?
Gazing at those despairing nobles.
Aura let slip an immensely charming, pleased little smile.
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