Volume 10 Chapter 37 The Fearsome Fairy Queen
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”They watched the army creeping toward Dayrid.”
A line of soldiers stood along the gate. One of them—a figure perched atop the lintel—stepped right off and dropped to the ground.
”Been waiting for you, Klock.”
”Oh? Thanks for the reception.”
For a welcome, it was far from proper. Someone in a hood came trotting over—small, quick, unafraid. A stranger might not know who she was without seeing her face, but people judge by motion as much as by features. Even in that run, it was obvious: Primlena.
”I sent the letter, but I was starting to worry—would you really trust it—”
Her mouth cut him off with a soft, brazen kiss.
”H-hey. Not in front of everyone.”
She swatted his chest; he grimaced, half a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. After that brief reunion—only a few days apart, and still too long—the Brigante squad was ushered into Dayrid.
”We’ve been expecting you,” said the woman who met them. “I’m Primrose. This is the mayor, Damino.”
”Damino,” the man said, bowing mildly. “You must be tired from the journey. Please, this way.”
Past the open gate, a pair—a human woman and a Merfolk in human dress—waited with several soldiers. The woman wore her finned ears proudly; the Merfolk beside her had sleek blue hair and the poise of someone used to stares. At her side stood a man of about fifty with gentle manners. So these were the mayor and his Merfolk wife, just as Klock had heard.
”Klock, captain of the Grasso Count’s vanguard,” he said. “Looks like the town really is intact. I’m relieved.”
”Yes, yes—by some luck, we’ve held on,” Damino replied. “It’s thanks to my wife we’ve managed so far. And now that you’re here as reinforcements, we can finally breathe.”
A glance around showed an ordinary harbor at first sight. No scars of fire. No panic in the soldiers’ faces. The stone flags underfoot bore the old stains every fishing port wears. Salt wind moved through the streets. Dayrid seemed—almost unnervingly—peaceful.
”How are you prepared against the Portline army?” Klock asked.
They stood at a window of the lord’s house, looking out over the town. The manor wasn’t on a height; from the second floor the view was nothing special. Servants set down cups and withdrew, leaving Klock and his people facing the mayor and his wife.
”About three thousand troops are marching south toward Portline,” Klock said.
”Ada’s unit, then?” Primrose asked. “Only Brigante came to Dayrid, so I suspected as much. Are they really going to meet the enemy head-on?”
Primlena filled in the rest. “Seems like it. Brigante got told to head for Dayrid. So while they’re drawing the heat, we shore things up here.”
Klock’s assignment was Dayrid. Watch it. Guard it. No one had said he couldn’t enter. He trusted Primlena and the Merfolk here. Why camp outside the walls for the sake of ceremony? If entering stirred the Demon Lord’s Army, the Ada unit would handle that. Not his worry.
”One question,” Klock said. “If the Count’s forces strike from land, can you support us at sea?”
”We can ready ships,” Primrose said. “But we have almost no troops.”
”Why’s that? You avoided fighting, didn’t you?”
”Dayrid never planned for emergencies,” Damino admitted. “We didn’t expect the situation to change so quickly. We’ve been slow to respond.”
”Mm.” Klock tipped his chin, dissatisfied. True, war had come suddenly—but nearly five months had passed since it began. To still be unprepared was… sluggish. Maybe they’d only realized the danger far too late.
”You’ll find our numbers small,” Damino added. “Dayrid’s a small town. We may not be much help.”
”Small? For a port town?”
”A faded port,” Primrose said with a rueful smile. “Everyone prefers Sanrid.”
That tracked. Sanrid was the Federation’s great city. If people were fleeing or looking for new lives, they’d choose Barreith, Conro, or Sanrid. Dayrid made few shortlists. A thin population meant thin levies.
”So you avoided raising troops to keep the civilian economy alive,” Klock said.
”Exactly.”
”Well, the enemy’s at your doorstep. Time to stop talking economy. Muster the militia. If you’ve got a militia law or a weapons ordinance, publicize it—loudly. Then audit weapons and food supplies and put the numbers in my hands fast.”
Pulling workers out of the town would drag the market to a crawl, yes—but only if done clumsily. Militia didn’t need to serve full-time. Soldiers in danger; fishermen and clerks the rest of the week. Unlike standing troops, who only burned coin between wars, militia were a blessing for a thin purse.
”We’re the vanguard,” Klock went on. “I’ve already sent word to the Count’s main force. Once they hear Dayrid will admit them, they’ll come quickly. Before that, we raise and ready your militia. I need a clear picture of Dayrid—from economy to the town’s actual purse.”
”Our… economic situation?”
”War eats money. Coordinate with Conro and Orrid on that front. Especially since the Count coming here is dependable with finances.”
”I see.”
No one had given Klock that job, strictly speaking. He advanced anyway. This was less a Count’s order than a Brigante captain’s gambit.
War funds were not endless. Even the fortune from Cianie stretched thin as their numbers grew. The Forestkin’s food aid had been a mercy; now he needed Human channels as well. In that sense, Dayrid was a catch waiting for the net.
After the meeting, Klock headed to the monastery. They offered a guest room as quarters for the night. He could have chosen an inn, but the monastery was free—and that decided it. Most of his soldiers were bound for the barracks.
”Klock,” Primlena said, catching up to him under a stone arch that smelled faintly of the sea. “Is it true—the Golden Count’s army will be here soon?”
”Yeah. Among Human Nobility, some love the front line, some love the rear. ‘Noble duty’ is a phrase that shows up when it’s convenient. The ones who favor the rear also hate bivouacs—too filthy, too smelly. So they watch and wait at the start of a war, but once we’ve secured a base, they hurry in.”
She frowned. “That sounds… poorly suited to the battlefield.”
Klock lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. That’s mostly my bias talking. But this Count? Fits the type.”
”Sir Klock.”
A voice called from the cloister’s shadow. Candles guttered along the corridor, and the sea breeze slipped through the arches, bringing a hush that felt like the pause before a wave breaks.
Klock and his close companions were given quarters in the monastery. He dropped into a chair with a sigh just as Suzette arrived.
”What are you thinking?” she demanded. “Was this really wise? You’ve shoved the enemy onto Ada’s unit, then marched straight into the town you were supposed to ‘watch.’ Do you want them to hate you?”
He only shrugged, and beside him, Primlena blinked in mild confusion. Suzette already knew the story from Ada’s camp—how Klock’s group were more rivals than allies—but Primlena was just now hearing it. He explained, in his lazy drawl, how their relations with Ada had soured and how he’d decided to slip into Dayrid anyway, planning to watch from a safe height while the others fought below.
”We’re not Ada’s subordinates,” he said. “We just secured a base for the Count. Should be getting applause, not scorn.”
”That’s not the point,” Suzette pressed. “You were the one who volunteered to deal with the Portline monsters. Now we’ve entered Dayrid on our own—doesn’t that border on betrayal?”
”Relax. We did our part. As long as the Count’s happy, the rest doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t think Ada’s anger would matter much. What counted was the Count himself. Even if things turned sour, that man would probably wave it off as trivial nonsense.
”And your duty as vanguard?” Suzette asked sharply. “That was the Count’s command.”
”We took back Dayrid first, didn’t we?” he said, straight-faced.
”…Will that really satisfy him?”
He grinned. “I’ll fulfill the rest too. All we need’s to strike first. That’s why I’ve got people checking how many ships we can actually use.”
”Will that be in time?”
”Ada’s coming from land. We’ll hit from sea. I’ve already told the messenger to report that plan to the Count.”
That messenger had left right after Klock’s talk with Ada. He’d gambled on Dayrid being open and sent the word before Ada could twist the story. Even if the Count was still in Conro, the letter would reach him first—proof they hadn’t run from battle.
Suzette exhaled in disbelief, her look caught somewhere between exasperation and concern. Was she angry at his deception… or worried about his recklessness?
”Master♡”
The sultry voice came from behind. Klock barely had time to turn before soft arms coiled around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
”Kispe—wait—”
Her lips claimed his. A bold kiss, right in front of the other two women. This time Klock was the one being ambushed, not the one doing the surprising.
”Master,” the demon girl purred, “your adorable familiar has returned. Won’t you pet me, praise me, and spoil me a little…♡”
She slid around and settled neatly onto his lap.
”…Some people never change,” Suzette muttered, frowning.
Kispe ignored her glare, wearing that infuriating, impish smile she’d perfected long ago.
The demon girl pursed her lips in mock protest. Klock tugged her chin back and met them, kissing her firmly. Fingers tangled in her hair; the sound between them was soft and wet.
”How’s Ninfa?” he asked when they finally parted.
Primlena’s voice cut through the haze. She stood arms-crossed, her expression flat, a Merfolk princess with no patience for this spectacle.
”Can we please talk business later?” Kispe pouted. “First you must hold me, kiss me, whisper sweet things that melt the day’s fatigue away. Just for an hour…♡”
She stuck out her tongue, taunting the two fuming princesses now glaring her down.
”Enough. Work first,” Klock said and rapped her lightly on the head.
Same treatment for friend or foe alike. She pouted but stayed put, as shameless as ever. Some things never changed.
”Master,” she murmured again.
”Yeah?”
Suzette and Primlena had stepped out, leaving them alone. Kispe still perched on his lap, draped like a cat too lazy to move.
”Ms. Ninfa has chosen to join us,” she said.
”You pulled it off, huh? Nice work.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair. He hadn’t expected much—but hearing it succeed was sweet news. One less enemy, one more ally.
”Also,” Kispe said, her smile curling into something darker, “the Fairy Queen has begun to move.”
”…The Fairy Queen?” Klock frowned. Just hearing that name made his gut tighten.
”Ninfa’s defection was quick,” Kispe continued. “But the Demonkin were approaching Ms. Palze, so I stayed to watch. And then—”
”What? Demonkin with the Fairies!?” Klock’s voice rose.
It was shocking—but logical. If they ran spies, the enemy surely did too. He’d confirmed Demonkin infiltration before, but since they aimed to exterminate Humans, he’d never worried about them recruiting Fairies. Now that they were approaching them, he couldn’t keep calm.
”They’d delegated talks with the Beast Demon Tribe to Ms. Palze,” Kispe explained. “She built a Fairy settlement near the Great Wolf Forest where the beasts camp. The Demonkin noticed, and sent envoys.”
”…And?”
Kispe’s lips curved in wicked delight. She paused on purpose, savoring the tension like a cat toying with its prey. Klock sighed inwardly. That smile meant only one thing: whatever happened next, it wasn’t good.
* * *
’Fairy presence at the Barrier Corridor?’ someone whispered.
”The envoys we sent to the Beast Demons reported it,” another replied. “Suddenly, a powerful Fairy aura began leaking from the Brest Mountains.”
It was in occupied Sanrid—now a stronghold of the Demonkin. Earth General Bandanzine scowled as he read the report.
He had launched a multi-front campaign, urging the Beast Demon Tribe to attack Conro. But in the middle of those exchanges, the Fairies had appeared.
”What shall we do? If their stance shifts, the beasts may refuse to fight.”
The Fairies—hated almost as much as the Succubi. Enemies to avoid, allies impossible to trust. No one wanted to deal with them. And yet, here they were—right in the middle of his war plans.
”It can’t be helped,” Bandanzine muttered. “Send envoys to probe their intent—and if possible, bring them to our side.”
Every generation that had lived through war knew how troublesome the Fairies could be. Bandanzine himself had faced them once and never forgot the terror. He would have preferred to avoid them altogether, but in wartime, ignoring them wasn’t an option.
”Why have they suddenly appeared on the Human Continent?” he wondered aloud. “A presence that strong—either one great being, or many. And of all places, here. Let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a curse upon us.”
The Fairies had never joined the United Kingdoms. When Humans and Forestkin sat together at the same table, the Fairies remained aloof—creatures of another realm, worshippers of the World Tree, bound to laws no mortal fully grasped.
Time passed after the envoys were sent.
Then one day in Sanrid, the Demonkin received a gift from the Fairies—a wooden box, sealed and strange, almost humming with silence. The envoys who’d gone to parley hadn’t returned. A week later, this was all that came.
”What is that?” Bandanzine asked.
His lieutenants exchanged uneasy looks. The box was about forty centimeters square, delivered by a Fairy cloaked entirely in black. The figure’s body had been too long, grotesquely stretched, its face hidden in bandages—an unmistakable inhuman shape.
”There’s faint magic inside,” one said. “A relic, perhaps. An offering?”
”Are you certain it came from them?”
”Yes, General. No other race bears such deformities. It was definitely Fairy.”
The Demonkin gathered around the box. None dared touch it. Instinct warned them this was wrong—some cruel joke waiting to spring.
”Open it,” Bandanzine ordered. “Carefully. It might be poisoned.”
A soldier swallowed hard and lifted the lid.
”…What in the hells.”
”What’s inside?”
”A baby. A deformed one.”
Inside the box, an infant slept soundly. But it had three faces—one on its head, one on its neck, one on its chest. Fairy mana pulsed faintly around it. And on its brow curved forward the same dark horns the Demonkin bore.
The child clutched a half-eaten centipede in one small fist. In the box, scattered insect corpses—its travel rations, perhaps.
”Rido. Aran. Genek…” someone whispered.
”…Names?”
They were carved into the wood. The names of the three envoys sent to the Fairies.
The room froze. Breath caught. No one needed to say what they all feared.
The Queen of Fairies, Palze, had sent a message—without words, without mercy. The Demonkin had trespassed into her domain, and this was her answer.
They hadn’t understood her rules, nor the price of stepping on Fairy soil. They had chosen the wrong way to speak.
”General Bandanzine,” one finally said, voice shaking. “This… this is an open act of hostility against the United Kingdoms.”
But the others didn’t echo him. Their faces weren’t angry—only pale. The Fairies’ cruelty had stolen even rage from them.
”Keep your distance from them,” Bandanzine said hoarsely. “They’ve always done as they pleased. There are still those who fear the witches; the Succubi are the same. Nothing good comes from touching that world.”
”…Understood.”
”And stay away from the Barrier Corridor. Leave Nobdovef be. We move as planned—through Nichirin Road and the Moonfall Corridor.”
”What about the child?”
”…Burn it. It’s no longer one of us. Speak of this to no one. Tell their families they died honorably.”
The soldier lifted the box with trembling hands, grimacing in disgust. Inside, the three-faced infant slept on, oblivious.
Messengers sometimes die. Sometimes their heads come back in sacks. But this—this was worse. Not even death had spared them humiliation. Everything they were had been rewritten, erased.
”Shall we retaliate?” a voice asked softly.
”Not until this war is done,” Bandanzine said. “They are not of this world. They dwell beneath the World Tree itself. We can’t fight them.”
He clenched his jaw. The taste in his mouth was bitter as ash. The Demonkin had swallowed poison and could do nothing but live with it.
* * *
”…And that,” Kispe said brightly, “is how the Fairies sided with us. The Demonkin won’t go near them again.”
Her smile was all mischief, her tone delighted. Klock, on the other hand, was grim. There was nothing amusing about it—turning envoys into infants and sending them back. The thought of meeting those Fairies himself made his skin crawl.
So the Fairies had rejected the Demonkin. For now, that was good news. He’d take the relief where he could and save the rest for later.
”Anyway,” he said, shaking it off. “I’ve got a favor to ask, Kispe.”
”My, my,” she purred. “A request from my dear Master? How thrilling. Please, anything you desire. Payment can be discussed afterward…♡”
He stifled the retort—*you charge for favors now?*—and got to the point. This wasn’t the time for banter. He needed her help.
”It’s about Fit. Three days ago, she and a group of ten went scouting. None have returned. Probably captured. I don’t know if they’re still alive, but… if they are, I want them back.”
”I see,” Kispe said softly.
By now, they were likely dead. But Klock couldn’t let it go—not when he knew their faces, their voices. He’d at least confirm their fate before giving up.
”Very well,” Kispe said, her eyes glinting. “If it’s urgent, I’ll assist. But remember, Master—I am not a cheap woman. You will pay me for my service.”
”…Remind me,” Klock muttered, “what’s a familiar supposed to be again?”
She smiled sweetly. “If you’d rather not, then I’ll simply return to Crimson Spire—my dear home.”
Her tail flicked behind her like a cat’s, daring him to test her patience.
Notes:
• Primlena – Orange-haired merfolk priestess, fierce yet elegant | First v8c3 | Sister of Sea General Primjune, subordinate to Primrity | Once captured and violated by Klock, now obsessed with reclaiming honor | Commands Obsidian Riders on giant fish, fights with trident | Seeks to drag Klock to Seabed Temple for marriage trial or execution | Unique note: revenge-driven siren bride who masks fury under ritual grace
• Primrose – a female Merfolk and mayor’s wife of Dayrid, instrumental in maintaining the town’s false allegiance to the Demon Lord’s Army to protect its citizens, seeking Sanctuary’s aid against the impending threat.
• Damino – a male mayor of Deilid and husband to Primrose (a Merfolk leader), a cautious administrator struggling to balance civilian life with wartime demands.
• Ada – Female. Ada the Wild Wind. An A-rank adventurer. Her appearance is striking, with black hair mixed with fiery red, multiple earrings, and an axe spear as tall as she is. She is incredibly strong and fast, with a Unique Skill called the ‘Blessing of the Wind’ that enhances her speed and agility. Ada is ruthless in combat but shows a surprising willingness to negotiate. She is highly respected in adventurer circles and feared by criminals. Her relationship with Klock is adversarial, as he stole from her and escaped using trickery.
• Orrid – Southern pleasure town near Conro, known for its chaos and vice. Serves as Brigante’s next destination and Count Grasso’s sphere of influence. Rumored den of spies and mercenaries.
• Cianie – A noble girl with a fluffy white and light blue dress, indicating her high status. She has a hesitant and flustered personality but is kind and courteous. Her relationship with Klock begins as an accidental encounter and develops into a romantic interest. She has a fiancé but expresses feelings for Klock, complicating their relationship.
• Fit – Solo archer adventurer; first appears at Barreith volunteer gathering, introduces herself to Klock and group, joining Brave Knight against Demon Lord’s Army
• Suzette – The older maid from Viscount Fennec. The head maid at the Viscount Fennec’s villa. She is confident, clear-spoken, and professional.
• Ninfa – a female defector whose allegiance Kispe (Klock’s familiar) secured, her shift potentially altering the balance of power between factions.
• Palze – A female character mentioned in relation to Succubi and beastkin, representing the complexities of non-human races.
• Bandanzine – They are one of the Four Heavenly Kings, appeared as a warrior with a dignified gaze, known for their frontline combat prowess.
• Genek – a male envoy sent to the Fairies, is the third victim of the Fairies’ act of hostility, his name carved into the wooden box alongside Rido and Aran.
• Rido – a male envoy sent to the Fairies, meets a grim fate as his name is found carved into the wooden box containing the deformed infant, symbolizing the Fairies’ act of hostility.
• Aran – a male envoy sent to the Fairies, shares the same fate as Rido, his name carved into the wooden box, representing the Fairies’ cruel message.
• Nobdovef – An elder leader of the beast tribes mentioned as failing to coordinate with Viola’s forces during the Orrid raid. No personal ties shown. Unreliable commander.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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