As he managed this new company of his, Mjöllmile used his connections to send out invitations to VIPs worldwide. Powerful nobility from the inner countries, the wealthier merchants from each key city, the movers and shakers over in the Englesian capital, that kind of thing. Once the snow melted, the Founder’s Festival was going to be even larger in scale than I had first envisioned.
Of course, his organizational skills were also pointed in other directions: the performances for our new theater; the format and rules for our arena battles; the admission fee to the Dungeon, along with prices for the items we sold there; inventory and sales approaches for the stalls around the arena site. I was shocked this was a first for him; he seemed completely in his element as he arranged all this. I introduced him to Veldora, too, and he agreed to work out the guy’s hibachi-grill concept with him.
I definitely made the right choice. Out of all my crazy ideas, hiring him was probably the smartest one. Without his talents, there was a pretty high chance the whole thing would’ve crashed and burned. No way I’d ever be this nimble with things. I was lucky to run into this guy, and as I watched him do his magic, I couldn’t help but feel exhilarated.
Time sure flies sometimes, doesn’t it? The whole town was in a festive mood now, the streets alive with energy and enthusiasm.
Arena construction was proceeding well. Gobkyuu was proving an excellent foreman, and everything was still on schedule. Mildo, youngest of the three dwarven brothers, was also back from his break and adding his own touches to my blueprints. Now there was an aesthetic, even artistic value, to the structure. He was a real artist, indeed, and I sure wasn’t, so this was a huge help. I was sure it’d be more than enough to wow those jaded nobles. Plus, Mildo’s touches even looked like they’d be done in time for the first battle tournament.
Mjöllmile’s staff also had their stalls open, selling to the workers in the area for practice. This was going well, too, generating business at a pretty decent clip. Neither of us anticipated any problems, which was a relief. The Dungeon, meanwhile, was in Ramiris’s and Veldora’s hands—I wanted to be more involved, but I was rapidly running short of free time.
Now the various leaders of the Forest of Jura’s monster races were assembling in town to celebrate (or maybe probe into) my new title. We had a series of audiences with each contingent scheduled across several days.
They wanted to declare their fealty to the demon lord in hopes of obtaining protection in return—but if they saw that the demon lord didn’t have that kind of power, they’d no doubt bare their fangs at once and start rebelling. Under a powerless demon lord, there’d be no prosperity, only a straight, downhill road to oblivion, and they knew it. Taking action to avoid such a fate was a matter of course.
Until fairly recently, the whole of Jura had been protected under Veldora’s absolute, irresistible power. That made the Forest an impregnable fortress, but now it was under the rule of a new demon lord—a freshly ordained one, whose priorities and policies were still a question mark. That’d unnerve any of the monster leaders, I was sure.
…So. Here I was, in the audience chamber we set up, being enshrined on my little platform, in full dress. As a slime. It made me feel like some kind of table decoration, a conversation piece laid out on a divine altar.
I suggested just putting one of my Replications up there, but my team of advisers just smiled and said no. They had a knack for working together against me at times like this. My only guess was that they were using Thought Communication to talk to each other behind my back.
So I let them do what they wanted with me, and they dolled me up so much that I couldn’t even move. They even prepared special slime clothes for this day. It was exhausting. Several outfits, changed daily for me—or maybe even morning, afternoon, and evening; I stopped paying attention. I wished they’d knock it off, but they kept talking about how I had to strike a dignified pose—which indicated to me that my slime form didn’t look dignified at all.
Ah well.
Everyone participating in this “presentation ceremony” was dressed like they were members of a military honor guard. Every button was polished, not a wrinkle in sight. The pressure was intense, and in the midst of this oppressive atmosphere, Rigurd and Rigur—just as smartly dressed—were dealing with the envoys. I looked down at them, as instructed to do, without saying a word. Me speaking would ruin the effect anyway, so I was glad I didn’t have to.
Benimaru and Shuna stood guard over me on both sides. Behind me was Shion, Soei, and Gabil, in a neat little line. Ranga, as always, was holed up inside my shadow.
Over to the right was Gobwa and another hundred-odd members of Team Kurenai; the other two hundred were patrolling the city streets. They were all more powerful than our normal security team, so I took this measure so they could quickly handle any weirdos who showed up during the event. Shion’s Team Reborn in plainclothes, meanwhile, was also keeping an eye on the town, ready to address any flare-ups before they got out of control.
“Sir Rimuru,
