The glare of the sun slowly wakes me from my deep slumber. I lethargically bring myself up to a sitting position and look around to find myself surrounded by neatly ordered mattresses that contain at least thousands of well-built adults.

For a second, I’m unsure as to where I am and why I’m here.

Then, a spark lights in my brain, and the events of last rush back in. After killing the king, I had ordered two units to go and keep the peace in the city (as it was inevitable that rioting would break out once the citizens realized that Villibus and his royal army were no more) and ordered the rest of our soldiers to sleep in the barracks for tonight. We had also planned to make a dramatic speech for victory last night, but everyone had simply been so tired and shaken from their first battle that a simple declaration of victory had sufficed.

We’ll make up for it today.

Eagswall’s main barracks are located somewhere in the Golden district, but there is a secondary barracks, which can hold about 40,000 people, located beside the Royal Castle for scenarios where the king must be instantly protected. That is where we are now—this is where the king’s troops were sleeping last night.

I quietly leave the bed in order to make sure that I don’t disturb the sleeping soldiers and make my way to the main castle, into the golden-design adorned, wood-plated, audience chamber.

Ducis, dressed in his loose silk robes and hair handsomely framing his face as usual, is already there, his almond shaped brown eyes almost as dark as charcoal, inspecting the throne.

“Oh, you’re up, Eremus.” He says when he hears me walk in, “It’s curious, isn’t it?” He asks, gesturing at the throne, “the entire room has so much lavish gold in it, but the throne is made of bronze—a material that isn’t even worth as much as gold.”

“I read once that this throne was first constructed on the Calamity-King’s orders,” I recall, “It’s not like he was a man interested in material wealth anyway.”

Ducis smiles, “The Calamity-King… he sounds a bit too perfect for this world, doesn’t he? A strategic genius, the man who united the six states, unbeatable warrior… honestly, I wonder how true all these statements really are.”

I shrug, “I doubt he was perfect. It’s just that no information that may incriminate him of wrongdoing is allowed in Salvorum.”

Ducis chuckles, “I wonder… will history remember us the same way? As heroes with absolutely no flaws? Or will we be cast down as the terrorists who managed to trick and kill the virtuous King Villibus before going on a mass murder spree?”

I put a hand on Ducis’ shoulder, “That depends on whether we win or not.”

“So heroes with no flaws it is.”

I let out a small chuckle at his response before shaking my head, “Now, enough of these hypothetical predictions. Where can I go brush my teeth and take a bath?”

Ducis points at the only door I haven’t been through in this audience chamber, “That door leads to a flight of stairs that will take you up to the second storey. There, you’ll find yourself in a corridor filled with many different rooms—libraries, work rooms for the bureaucrats, you know, that kind of stuff. One of those rooms is filled with stores of bath-water and barrels of toothbrushes and toothpastes.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Does that mean that the king conducts his daily hygienic rituals with the rest of his soldiers?”

“There’s a separate door in the king's chambers plated with gold, which is filled with toothbrushes and toothpastes of higher quality and bath water adorned with scented roses.”

I roll my eyes, “Of course.”

After conducting my own daily hygienic rituals (those scented roses were nice), I dress into my usual purple-coloured silk shirt, biege leather pants, and dark brown leather shoes. I proceed to step back into the audience chamber and spot Ducis again.

This time, he’s actually sitting on the throne.

“How does it feel?” I ask, amused at his gall. He’s not supposed to be sitting there until the official coronation after all.

Ducis looks up and wiggles in his seat a bit, “Quite comfortable. These cushions really are something else.”

…I have to admit, he looks perfectly suited to it. It’s as if the throne was made especially for him.

“I think you should keep it,” I say, quite obviously letting him know that he should be the next king.

We never really talked about it, but I want to make it official. Besides, I think we both always knew that the bureaucracy that comes with kingship really wouldn’t suit me.

Ducis smiles, “I’ll make good use of it.”

“You better,” I smile back.

We spend a few more minutes with idle chatter before our ears capture the sounds of approaching footsteps. We look to the main door, and just then,

“Sir!” A messenger walks in and takes a bow. He takes a look at Ducis on the throne and looks a bit taken aback.

Yeah… Ducis sitting on the throne before being officially coronated can be considered an egregious insult to the entire culture of Salvorum by some.

Nevertheless, Ducis doesn’t budge and orders with a friendly smile,

“Speak.”

The word is spoken jovially, but there is so much authority packed into it that the messenger barely stutters before instantly complying,

“T-the remaining 40,000 troops that you called for have arrived, sir.”

Oh? That’s good. Now, that we have all the troops that we’ve ever recruited gathered in this one city, Davis can’t make any hasty moves.

Speaking of Davis…

“What of Davis and his army?” I ask.

The messenger answers promptly, “Our spies tell us that he has lost approximately 50,000 of his troops from the betrayal of Lord Wilhelm’s troops. We still do not have an accurate report of how many of Lord Davis’ soldiers and how many of the Royal army’s soldiers died in the fighting.”

I narrow my eyes in confusion, “Only 50,000? Wilhelm’s 60,000 soldiers were camped with the rest of the combined army, they should have been able to deal more damage…”

“Our spies tell us that lord Davis had ordered lord Wilhelm’s soldiers to camp a little distance away from the rest of the army, and he told his own personal army of 20,000 to camp in between them and the royal army,” the spy answers.

Damn. Davis must have suspected that Wilhelm’s soldiers would do something, so he implemented a two-part defensive strategy.

Firstly, he stationed Wilhelm’s soldiers a small distance away so that he would at least have a small time-frame to spot any possible hostile movement from them. And secondly, he ordered his own troops to camp in between Wilhelm’s soldiers and the Royal army in order to have them serve as a possible buffer to give the clearly more powerful troops some time to prepare in case of a betrayal.

“What of Wilhelm’s soldiers?” I ask.

“Slaughtered to the last man,” the messenger reports.

Good, at least that ploy worked correctly. Had any number of them survived, they would have just ended up becoming further trouble for us.

Davis’ army was composed of three separate armies when he set out.

The Royal army: 70,000 troops.

Davis’ own army: 20,000 troops.

Wilhelm’s army: 60,000 troops.

Davis is clearly a competent strategist and commander, but he was still only allowed to recruit a meagre 20,000 for his personal army because he wasn’t really personal with the king. Wilhelm, on the other hand, was quite the buffoon. But because Wilhelm was close friends with the king, he was allowed to recruit a sizeable 60,000.

I don’t know how many of Davis’ army and how many of the Royal troops have died, but after the betrayal of the Wilhelm army, he now has an overall of 40,000 troops.

I sent out messengers last night to call the remaining 40,000 troops we have, here, to Eagswall. Now that they’re here, we have an overall force of 65,000 troops.

A definite advantage of 25,000. Now, it all depends on what Davis’ has chosen to do.

“What have our spies told us on Davis’ movements?” I ask.

“He seems to be retreating further away from Eagswall, sir.”

I put a hand on my chin and close my eyes. In the darkness I have created for myself, a clearly visible map appears before me as I run simulation after simulation on it.

But I already know that these simulations are useless. Davis has chosen to retreat and wait for us to make a move. He knows that if we face him in battle on an open field, the Royal troops won’t be able to perform as well as if they were in an enclosed space. The Royal army was trained to defend the king in the capital, after all. That means that they are elite infantry, not horse-mounted cavalry.

That means that if Davis tries to attack us now, we will face him in an open field and our numbers will easily bring us a decisive victory.

But he’s waiting because he knows that a chance will come soon. Soon, news will travel that the king has been killed, forcing each noble and their personal army to pick sides. Normally, many nobles would use this chance to try and claim power for themselves, but Davis was bestowed a majority of the Royal army by the king himself before the king was killed.

This will cause most of the supporters of King Villibus to flock to his side, allowing him to bolster his forces enough to attack us.

But this is also a gamble for him. If more nobles flock to our side, then we will be the ones with the insurmountable advantage.

Either way, most of the nobles will either support us or Davis, meaning that a civil war is quickly approaching. We must make sure not to waste this chance that we have right now. We have to recruit as many nobles as we can to our cause in order to finally fully take over Salvorum.

I nod at the messenger, “You can go now.”

The messenger bows and leaves.

“Should we launch an assault on Davis today?” Ducis asks, “I mean, we can easily defeat them.”

I shake my head, “Davis has probably retreated far enough away from Eagswall, so that if we go to attack him, he’ll just run away from us. A country usually has its army stationed everywhere in their territory, so when a foreign army comes in too deep, they can surround that foreign army from all sides. But we’re not sure which army is on which side, so chasing down Davis is impossible.”

Ducis frowns, “Hm. So now what?”

“Now we give our speech to the people of Salvorum,” I say, “You remember what we’re going to say, right?”

Ducis raises an eyebrow, “After all those rehearsals? I’d have to be diagnosed with amnesia if I forgot.”

I nod to show my satisfaction, “Good.”

Where’s Luna?

It’s a question that suddenly pops into my mind a few hours later, when I’m walking down the street and observing my forces keeping the peace with their presence (apparently, a mass-thieving attempt in the Beggar’s district had to be put down this morning once rumour got out that the king was dead).

I haven’t seen Luna ever since last night, and I didn’t see her in the barracks when I woke up. But if she wasn’t in the barracks, then where could she have gone? The only soldiers who weren’t sleeping in the barracks last night were capturing the nobles and keeping an eye on the citizens. I’m pretty sure Luna wasn’t among these soldiers…

I spot Fidel’s lean yet muscular form conversing with someone in the distance—his black hair is as curly as ever. I walk up to him.

“Hey, boss!” He greets enthusiastically. He gestures at his conversation partner, “This is my second-in-command, Metuculo.”

Fidel’s second-in-command has a frail sort of figure with barely any muscle, a pale face full of freckles, and messy blonde hair the same length as Fidel’s. His body posture is quite timid, and he gives me a nervous sort of bow as he fiddles with his hair.

“G-good morning, sir!”

Fidel laughs uproariously as he gives Metuculo a hard slap on the back, sending the thin blond boy stumbling forward, “Come on, man. No need to be so scared, he’s not going to eat you!”

I sigh in exasperation, but I can’t help but just feel fond of Fidel. And judging from the grin on his face, I think I’ve let it slip, “Fidel, people tend to be quite anxious when they’re in front of their commanding officers. You’re just an anomaly.”

Fidel snickers, “Ouch. So harsh.”

I roll my eyes at his natural cheerfulness, “Anyway, I came here because I wanted to know whether you’ve seen Luna anywhere.”

“Luna?” Fidel asks, “You mean the girl you brought with you a few days ago?” He shrugs, “I remember seeing her last night with the other boss… but I didn’t see her at all today.”

I frown, “I see.”

“Um…” Metuculo slowly and hesitantly raises his hand, “Is Luna a young child with red hair?”

I nod, “Yes, have you seen her?”

“I think I saw her sitting on the roof of one of the smaller houses in the Golden district?” Metuculo answers timidly as he goes back to nervously fiddling with his hair, “I remember because I saw her and wondered what a child was doing there when the entire district had been cleared.”

Fidel gives Metuculo a swift whap on the head, “You idiot, you’re supposed to report stuff like that in! What if she was a spy or an assassin or something?”

Metuculo’s eyes go wide and he bows apologetically to Fidel, “I-I’m so sorry, sir! I won’t mess up next time!”

Fidel sighs and turns to me, “Well, there you go, boss. Do you need Metuculo to guide you?”

I shake my head, “I can find the house myself. You just get your unit to the Royal Palace; the official ceremony is about to start.”

“Yay.” Fidel says with an unenthusiastic fist-pump, “More boring speeches.”

I roll my eyes again, “Please, Ducis’ speeches are never boring.”

“Oh, the other boss is speaking? I thought you were going to make the speech,” Fidel says with a snicker.

I swiftly kick him in the shin.

“Just get your ass there in time.”

Fidel rubs in shin and chuckles, “Sure, sure. Let’s go, Metuculo.”

Metuculo nods while playing with his hair, “Yes sir!”

With that, they leave. I take a look around and see that a majority of the rest of the units have also started to head towards the Royal Palace. I should hurry if I want to find Luna and get back on time.

DUCIS

Inside the king’s bedchambers, I sit upon Villibus’ former bed as I contemplate.

The hour is fast approaching. Just twenty more minutes and then I will be officially crowned as the king of Salvorum.

I don’t feel particularly excited or nervous though. Our plan to rid the world of the concept of war required me to take this step. It was inevitable that I would become king.

I don’t feel particularly excited or nervous, because there’s nothing to feel excited or nervous about.

I will, however, confess to a modicum of happiness. After all, we’re about to take a large step towards achieving our grand ambition.

…Now, where is Eremus? A messenger tells me that our soldiers have finished bringing here a sufficient amount of Eagswall’s citizens, which means that we will now have enough witnesses to make my crowning “official”. But Eremus, who is supposed to be here right now, is nowhere to be seen.

He’s not necessary to the crowning, but we had planned a speech that requires us both. If he’s not here in time, then I’ll have to make the speech myself.

A knock rings from the door.

“Sir,” a messenger calls out, “Everyone is ready.”

Hm… I guess I’ll wait for around twenty more minutes before starting the ceremony myself.

EREMUS

This house is… far less ostentatious than I expected. It’s definitely comfortable—with soft sofas and beds, and walls and floors made of fine wood—but, there’s no item or design here whose only function is to practically scream, “LOOK HOW RICH I AM!”

It’s certainly a nice change of pace.

I make my way up to the roof, and find Luna sitting there with her back faced towards me and her legs dangling off the edge.

“Your house?” I ask by way of greeting.

Luna wipes something off her face with her sleeve and turns toward me. Instantly, I can tell due to the flushed cheeks and the puffy, watery eyes that what she wiped away just now were her tears.

Huh… I didn’t expect that.

I don’t know how to handle this situation. How am I supposed to ask what she’s crying about? Do I just go, “What’s wrong”? But doesn’t that sound too callous? What about—

“Eremus…” Luna says in a voice that seems inexplicably heavy, “I saw what happened last night… I saw all those people tearing each other apart…”

Ah… I had forgotten. Luna is just a child. She’s too young and hasn’t suffered enough under King Villibus’ reign to look past all bloodshed that occurred last night like the other soldiers.

Tears well up in her eyes once again, “If I join you… is this what I’ll be doing? Will I also go in there and kill people like last night? Next time… will I be the one to die?”

I can see the fear that plagues her, in her eyes. I can see that without help, she will simply fall here, never to recover.

Her next words are gut-wrenchingly pitiful, “I don’t want to kill, Eremus… and I don’t want to be killed…”

Last night was probably the most traumatic experience of her life. She has never seen death or pain so vividly before, and her ideal image of war was torn to shreds…

I glance at the Royal Palace in the distance out of the corner of my eye. If I stay to help her, then I will definitely miss the crowning ceremony. This isn’t something I can resolve with a simple “cheer up”.

Fresh tears glint against Luna’s flushed cheek as they trail down her face…

…Oh whatever, Ducis can handle himself just fine.