The Demon King Seems to Conquer the World

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After dismissing the emissary of the Supervisory Corps, Fritz Roni, made a brief appearance at the city hall adjacent to the government office as part of political etiquette. This wasn’t the headquarters of the Galilia Union but rather the administrative center governing the city of Galilianin, and this place was overseen by the Governor of Galilianin.

Fritz served as the Vice President of the Galilia Union. This position was appointed by the President (Consul) and wasn’t obtained through elections. The President (Consul) was elected by representatives from the Union’s cities. One of each city would gather in Galilianin for voting. Since cities vary in size, the weight of votes from each city differed, but it was customary for Galilianin politicians to be chosen unless there were exceptional candidates from elsewhere in the Union. Given Galilianin’s overwhelming size as a core city within the Union, this has become a tradition.

Currently, the elderly Orasem Hatran held dual roles as Governor of Galilianin and President of the Galilia Union. While separate politicians could hold these positions, dual roles were more common. However, due to the excessive workload, practical duties were often handled by the Vice President and Vice Governor, with significant roles played. Handling the duties of Governor of Galilianin currently was Berbeo Hatran, Orasem’s nephew.

Given his position, Fritz acted as the interim representative of the entire Galilia Union, making his role significant compared to the acting Governor. Diplomacy for the nation also fell within Fritz’s jurisdiction, prompting the emissary of the Papal States to meet with him. However, the Governor of Galilianin was not merely a provincial governer. Therefore, when an emissary arrived from the Papal States, it was prudent to report and share information on the message received as a way to handle matters smoothly.

—

“I see. Are they implying that we should send reinforcements to Gerizim?”

Berbeo asked, remaining seated in the Governor’s office at City Hall. Berbeo Hatran was considerably older than Fritz, nearing 50 years of age.

“No, I don’t think so.” (Fritz)

Belbio was said to be the current head of the main Hatran Household. There was a somewhat complicated story behind this, as the elderly Olasem was not the head of the household.

Orasem had an older brother who took over the family when he was young. The two were political brothers, and at the time, his older brother was reputed to be more talented, but perhaps because he was a late bloomer, in the end it was Orassem who achieved many accomplishments as an outstanding politician. The family succession turmoil was a story of 50 to 60 years ago, and even Fritz didn’t know the details of that time. His older brother had long since passed away, so he was no longer around. Berbeo was the son of that older brother, making him the legitimate heir of the Hatran Household.

“Why do you say that?” (Berbeo)

“Why do I say that?” (Fritz)

“Why can’t you decisively say it’s not their intention?” (Berbeo)

Fritz began to feel a bit weary.

“Epitaph-sama is not someone who would give such roundabout instructions.” (Fritz)

Fritz said to convince Berbeo.

Berbeo Hatran was not an incompetent man, but he had a dull sensitivity to politics. Experience had shown that he gradually misses the mark or fixates on the wrong points, making it difficult to convince him with logical reasoning.

In the first place, political maneuvering and military instructions were different in nature. The former sometimes favors circumlocutory expressions, but the latter abhorred extreme ambiguity. Think about the commands issued on the battlefield. If a commander were to use ambiguous terms that could be interpreted as a retreat when an assault was needed, such a person would be promptly dismissed. If Epitaph Palazzo was saying not to send reinforcements, then it meant not to send reinforcements, and there was no need to consider the opposite meaning.

“This is an important issue. If we upset the Papal States, there’s also a possibility that reinforcements won’t come.” (Berbeo)

Fritz swallowed what he wanted to say and that was for him to consider that matter and Berbeo didn’t have to worry about it.

“It’s my own thinking, so don’t worry. If you’re concerned, you could go to the ship and inquire before the emissary departs.” (Fritz)

“I’m sorry but let me do that.” (Berbeo)

Ridiculous as it seemed, Berbeo would actually do so. He became concerned about verifying things directly after experiencing the consequences of communication failures in the past.

“Well then, since I don’t want to interfere, I’ll take my leave.” (Fritz)

Fritz said as he got up from the reception sofa. He hadn’t intended to linger long since he came only for administrative matters.

“Are you going to visit again today?” (Berbeo)

“Yes, that’s the plan.” (Fritz)

“Give my regards to Orasem-dono.” (Berbeo)

While Orasem was his uncle, Fritz rarely visits. It was rather cold-hearted to visit the person who serves as his superior only once or twice a year, possibly influenced by rumors that his father harbored resentment toward his younger brother.

—

“Fritz-sama, you’ve come.” (Marjorie)

Marjorie Roni was in Orasem’s living room.

She was Fritz’s wife. She was still dressed as a nun. She was wearing austere black clothing with a black veil covering her hair.

“Fritz, you’re back.” (Orasem)

Orasem said, looking somewhat surprised to see Fritz.

“Yes, I managed to return. I apologize for my absence.” (Fritz)

Orasem’s forgetfulness began to show prominently a little before Fritz left for the fifteenth Crusade, and since then, it had become apparent that he was suffering from memory loss in the form. At that time, Orasem was still in charge of affairs, and Fritz was appointed as the Union’s representative in full. Strangely enough, Orasem retained memories of Fritz going to war, but his recollections tend to abruptly halt there. Subsequent events were sometimes remembered and sometimes forgotten, presenting different facets depending on the day.

Not long ago, Orasem recalled suffering a major defeat at the Battle of Sibyaku, with Fritz’s fate uncertain, but now, due to the progression of his condition, memories around that time seemed lost. In Orasem’s mind, Fritz departed for military service and returned after doing some work. Initially surprised by his sudden return, repeated encounters allowed residual memories to accumulate, so now, Fritz’s visits didn’t typically evoke much surprise.

His memory varies day by day, forgetting most things, making governance extremely challenging. Details of this morning’s meal were forgotten by nightfall, and similarly, faces and names introduced today were mostly forgotten by tomorrow. He managed to remember faces and names only of those he had prior acquaintance with before his decline.

Yet, until about a year ago, Fritz could still explain details and seek advice on matters, but now, even that decision-making ability had significantly dulled. Orasem used to be a decisive politician who tackled tough issues head-on, sometimes earning resentment but was loved for his cheerful demeanor. However, that persona was now gone.

“Marjorie, tell Altair to bring some wine. I’ve got hold of a fine wine.” (Orasem)

The wine was from the Flusha Kingdom and it was called Chatel Rouge. It was a forty-year-old vintage and quite smooth on the palate. When Orasem acquired it and tasted, he felt strongly that he should share it with Fritz when he returned. That memory remains with him, so whenever Fritz visits, I offered it to him.

According to experts, Orasem’s condition was a common one where everyday memories mostly fade away, but unpleasant memories tend to remain strong. Hence, Fritz had never refused the same wine, even though he had drunk it hundreds of times.

“Yes, I will inform him promptly.” (Marjorie)

Marjorie said this, bowing her head slightly before leaving to convey the message. Although he had drunk the entire Chatille Rouge long ago, she had not thrown away the bottle and had filled it with a similar tasting wine, corking it so it looked as if it had never been opened.

“…Sorry about her dressing like that. Seems her obsession with that Isus is incurable.” (Orasem)

The conversation shifted to Marjorie. She was Orasem’s daughter, but instead of becoming Fritz’s wife, she married into the Roni Household. The Roni Household was of a modest bureaucratic background with no historical pedigree. Normally, it would be the other way around, but when they married, Orasem foresaw potential competition and future development for Galilianin outside the Hatran Household among other political families. But their plans did not come to fruition. They had no children between them.

“I’m fine. Please don’t worry.” (Fritz)

“…How about your marital life? Is it going well?” (Orasem)

“It’s going smoothly. Please don’t worry.” (Fritz)

In truth, things were far from smooth. Fritz lied. He and Marjorie hadn’t engaged in sexual relations for several years now. Marjorie had always been somewhat prudish about intimacy, but after immersing herself in the teachings of Isus post-marriage, her aversion escalated. Whenever Fritz initiated intimacy, she reacted like a maiden resisting rape, naturally extinguishing any conjugal engagement.

If this were before their marriage, Marjorie might have entered a convent to become a sister, but it wasn’t so simple post-marriage. While it was not mandatory for a convent to be virginal, being in marital relations with a man was not a condition for entry. If she were to enter, she would need a divorce at least.

Divorcing would break the marriage vows made in the church. To break one’s own vows before God to join a convent was, in essence, absurd. Marjorie couldn’t ask for a divorce, and faith was a personal matter. Yet, sometimes Fritz wondered if Marjorie wanted to divorce and become a real nun, though she never mentioned it.

“What about the division of Shaalta?” (Orasem)

“Yes, fortunately, we managed to secure Filuche, Neitetrus and other eight cities through exchange.” (Fritz)

That was, of course, a lie. He secured a sufficient result with an appropriate range that did not look suspicious. Anyway, Orasem would have forgotten this conversation by tomorrow. There was no point in confronting the harsh reality facing the Galilia Union.

“I see, I see. It’s a good enough result.” (Orasem)

“I’ll report later.” (Fritz)

“No, you don’t need to report. I’ve left everything about the union to you.” (Orasem)

“Yes. I’ll do my best despite my limitations.” (Fritz)

“You’re the politician I raised with my own hands. I’m not worried at all. Just don’t imitate me. I’ve said it many times. A politician without convictions is like a mouse.” (Orasem)

It was a phrase Orasem used since he was sound. It didn’t mean not to imitate the way it was done wrong. Orasem said politicians without convictions were themselves boring. Boring people doing boring work. It was such a matter.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m thinking about doing it my way.” (Fritz)

“Yes, that’s good. That’s Fritz.” (Orasem)

“Excuse me.” (Altair)

That was the phrase. The butler Altair had long been working at Orasem’s mansion. His hand held a familiar bottle of wine.

“Ah, you’re here. Come, have a drink.” (Orasem)

Immediately, a glass of wine was offered to Fritz.

Fritz tilted the glass and drank. Despite feeling somewhat empty inside, he expressed his usual opinion.

—

After leaving Orasem’s mansion, Fritz headed somewhere else. It was a summer night, already growing dark outside. He knocked on the door of an ordinary house, and it opened.

“Welcome home.” (??)

A warm woman’s voice welcomed Fritz inside.

“I’m home.” (Fritz)

With a touch of guilt, Fritz crossed the threshold into Nozette Metrise’s house.

Nozette was a woman Fritz had met when he was 20. He was working as a liaison officer for Orasem at City Hall. They had been dating at the time. When Fritz was 25, Orasem noticed him, and the political marriage with Marjorie was mentioned. Fritz nodded without refusal. That was when they broke up, but when relations with Marjorie cooled, they began to meet again. In short, he was the one having an affair.

“How was your day?” (Nozette)

“Well, it was a tough day. I’m tired.” (Fritz)

“… Then, are you staying over?” (Nozette)

“No, sorry, I’m going back.” (Fritz)

They decided that he would stay over for two days a week, so today was a day to return. Although he was tired from dealing with an annoying case and was truly exhausted, it was not so.

“Well, I’ll encourage you with a meal that I’ve put my heart into.” (Nozette)

Nozette said cheerfully to encourage him. Fritz was pleased with her thoughtfulness. Fritz took off his shoes and headed to the living room.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” (Fritz)

“Oh, just pasta and salad as usual.” (Nozette)

“That sounds good.” (Fritz)

He said, and Nozette smiled happily.

This was not to flattery, but for Fritz, who grew up in a semi-commoner’s home, this was the best thing. As a prominent politician, Fritz owned a large house in a prime location in Galilianin, but he never felt comfortable living there.

He preferred a home where he could reach every corner with his family, rather than a house that required several servants to maintain. If he had been born a natural-born politician like Orasem, it wouldn’t have been like this, but in the end, Fritz couldn’t become that person.

“Okay, I’ll make it.” (Nozette)

Nozette tied her apron and started moving in the kitchen.

Sitting on the sofa, Fritz gazed leisurely at her as she prepared the meal. It filled him with a sense of warmth, like warm water seeping into cracked sand. It felt like returning to a sanctuary.

“Otou-san?” (??)

His daughter, who had been engrossed in a picture book, looked up from the book and came over to him. She was Fritz’s only child, and he named her Muzette.

“Welcome home!” (Muzette)

She smiled, revealing her missing baby tooth.

“I’m back. Were you reading your book?” (Fritz)

“It’s okay now. If you have time, could you read a story?” (Muzette)

She said, pulling out a children’s book from the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

“Sure thing. Where were we?” (Fritz)

“I don’t know.” (Muzette)

Without knowing where they were in the story, there was no point in starting.

“From where Eric goes to meet the wizard?” (Nozette)

She must have heard the conversation in the kitchen. Nozette called out.

It was a well-known story, so just mentioning it was enough to understand which scene it was. It was probably a little before the middle of the book. Opening the pages around the 25^th of the book, and searching a little, he found the intended scene.

“Erich said as he was given the green potion.” (Fritz)

“Not there. Further ahead.” (Muzette)

“The part with the red potion?” (Fritz)

“Yes. The place where the sword burns.” (Muzette)

“When Eric put the red potion given by the wizard on the sword, the sword quickly burst into flames. With this, he can defeat the dragon—” (Fritz)

“…” (Muzette)

As Fritz began to read aloud, Muzette immediately fell silent and focused on the story.

“Thank you for the meal!” (Muzette)

Musette made a big post-dinner greeting.

“Great job eating the eggplant.” (Nozzette)

Nosette praised her. Today’s pasta had large slices of simmered eggplant in it. Even though she grimaced, she managed to eat it, which was impressive.

“Yeah.” (Muzette)

“It was delicious. Thank you for the meal.” (Fritz)

The comforting home-cooked meal felt truly delicious. At their residence, due to Marjorie’s religious concerns, meals consisted only of lightly salted bread and vegetable soup, so they inevitably became bleak. In comparison, this meal for the three of them felt luxurious beyond measure. With this, he felt he could persevere again tomorrow.

“Thank you for your patience.” (Nozette)

Nozette looked pleased.

Seeing Nozette’s smile truly put Fritz’s mind at ease. Despite the many grievances she might have wanted to express, when he was tired, she swallowed them. He appreciated her thoughtfulness.

Clearing away the dirty dishes, Nozette began brewing tea with the remaining heat. After a while, she poured the tea into a large mug and placed it on the dining table.

“…Once I drink this, I should head back.” (Fritz)

Fritz muttered quietly.

“Ehh, you’re leaving?” (Muzette)

His honest daughter expressed her dissatisfaction openly. Although it saddened him to hear her say this, it was a father’s honor.

“No, dear. Otou-san has work to do.” (Nozette)

“Sorry.” (Fritz)

He said, while gently patting his daughter’s head.

He was returning not because of work, but for reasons that would embarrass his daughter if she knew. When he returned home, he would be praying in the prayer room Margaery had set up in their home. Feeling a bit depressed, Fritz sipped his tea reluctantly.