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Chapter 234: The Night of the Autonomous District

――Night in Evaroti.

In a building that used to be a tavern, the representatives of the Autonomous District are gathered, their conversations illuminated by the flickering lamps.

“So, how is everyone doing?”

With a polite tone but sharp eyes, Sebastian inquires. This old man, placed in the responsible role of coordinator, seems invigorated rather than burdened by responsibility, appearing rejuvenated. Utilizing his experience as a steward from the baron family, he deftly manages the distribution of supplies and the coordination of manpower for recovery efforts.

“The rescue team is regaining its composure,”

reports Mycin, the apprentice priest, with earnestness.

The rescue team—true to its name, a group dedicated to aiding the injured and managing the city’s sanitation. It consists of former Holy Church members and women without relatives. Under the command of the Demon Lord’s Prince, they can no longer boldly call themselves the Holy Church, hence the new banner.

“Everybody is starting to feel the reality of it with time—truly, we can live without being subjected to terrible experiences under the Demon Lord’s Army.”

By the way, even among those related to the Holy Church, frontline heroes and priests have mostly perished in battle. What remains are apprentices like Mycin, children who were rescued from fleeing forces, and a plethora of menial staff without holy attributes, nearly all of them at the very bottom of the hierarchy.

What few miracles can be worked are limited to Mycin and a handful of others, and while they are earnestly progressing with treatments for the injured, the current situation is hardly smooth due to their lack of ability.

“No complaints from us,”

adds Dobel, the beastman with black hair.

He oversees the beastman tribe among the Autonomous District citizens. Unfortunately, Dobel’s unit in the kingdom’s army, the forest hunters, has been decimated, with barely any survivors left. The majority of the district’s beastman residents are those who failed to escape the royal capital or refugees and wounded soldiers.

“We aren’t locked in a big room, and we can move around freely within the city. Well, there are murmurs of wanting to go hunting or eat meat, but… that’s more luxury than dissatisfaction.”

The allied beastmen are of wolf and dog breeds, omnivores by nature, but it’s true that a carnivorous diet suits them better. Since the supplies from the Demon Lord’s Army consist mainly of grains, there have been some complaints in that regard—but everyone understands that it’s better than starving.

“The soldier squad is… well, they’re just getting by.”

Tafuman, the soldier clad in the kingdom’s military uniform, speaks with a grim expression.

His left arm, pierced by an arrow from a Night Elf, is already free of bandages, and the wound on his chest has nearly healed as well. He operates as the de facto leader of the soldier squad.

However, though they are referred to as the “soldier squad,” it’s essentially a group made up of elderly men, refugees, and a large number of wounded soldiers, to the extent that “patient squad” would be a more fitting name, a humorous self-deprecating comment reflecting the high number of injured.

“While I wouldn’t say there’s dissatisfaction, there are plenty of people grumbling about their injuries not healing yet, but there’s no point in voicing that…”

Tafuman clarifies to Mycin, apologetically, that he’s not blaming the rescue team. He means no offense personally, but that’s just the atmosphere on the ground.

Given that someone like Tafuman, a former private soldier, has risen to a leading position, it says a lot about their situation—there are truly only a handful of capable individuals left. Tafuman himself was severely injured until recently, but that aside…

“There’s enough food and medicine now, and everyone is just grateful to be alive,”

he adds.

At least they have food now, which is a world of difference compared to the siege in Evaroti at the end of last year.

Many former soldiers are part of the guard squad, so if they recover from their injuries or sickness, they should be able to manage duties related to security and law enforcement. They plan to coordinate with the beastman hunters like Dobel during that time.

“Is that so… So, there are no extremists among us?”

Sebastian nods, looking somewhat relieved.

“From what I’ve seen, there aren’t any,”

Mycin replies.

“For now, no one’s emerged,”

Dobel squints meaningfully.

“…On the surface, at least.”

Tafuman agrees, nodding vaguely.

“…”

The atmosphere feels strange.

That insane speech by the Demon Lord’s Prince is still fresh in their memories.

Who would have thought they’d be urged to sharpen their claws for rebellion against their war adversary…?

“In all honesty, there’s animosity towards the Demon Lord’s Army.”

That much is certain. Everyone likely feels the same way. However, they all recognize their slim chances of victory and understand that acting rashly is not an option.

Like the words of that Demon Lord’s Prince, if they are to revolt, they must build up their forces, and for that, they need to stabilize their lives.

Now is too early. In ten years, it will probably still be too early. In twenty years, it’s uncertain.

With that sentiment, they continue to live today.

“…We must keep a watchful eye moving forward,”

Sebastian states, and everyone nods vigorously. Now is not the time. They must absolutely avoid any outbursts—careful attention is needed for internal dissatisfaction.

†††

After discussing various minor details, they dispersed and returned to their homes.

The houses remaining in the urban area have been made available for the Autonomous District citizens to use freely. That said, many of them were destroyed or burned down, so decent properties are surprisingly scarce.

Tafuman acquired a single-family house on a back street, close to the tavern and easily accessible to the royal castle.

As he hurried through the dimly lit streets bathed only in moonlight—

“Hey! You there, man!”

He ran into a pair of Night Elf soldiers on patrol.

“Who are you? Why are you out at this hour?”

The Night Elf soldiers question him with a sneering tone. It’s too dark to discern their expressions, but even if he could see them, it would only be unpleasant.

“Sir! I am the Vice Captain Tafuman of the Autonomous District Guard Squad!”

Tafuman crisply responds with a sharp salute.

He identifies himself as “Vice Captain” because the nominal captain of the Autonomous District Guard is an official from the Night Elves. Well, they hardly show their faces, so it doesn’t change the fact that Tafuman is effectively the captain.

“I’ve just finished a meeting with the district representatives and am on my way home!”

—There’s nothing wrong here.

“Hmph… A meeting, you say? Isn’t that just a plot for rebellion?”

An ironic smirk seems to suggest disdain. The Night Elf soldier snorts, not hiding their mockery.

“Sir! In the long term, it’s pretty much the same thing!”

Tafuman raises his chin and boldly replies while staring directly at him.

In a way, the Demon Lord’s Prince has given him a form of endorsement.

To become a formidable opponent in the future.

To keep up the effort in the meantime.

There’s nothing shameful about this…! The Night Elf soldiers seem taken aback by Tafuman’s unabashed attitude.

They must not lash out. However, mere obedience is no different from being a slave. They must fulfill the obligations imposed on the citizens of the Autonomous District while maintaining their defiance for the future.

Striking that balance is difficult…

“Hmph. That’s quite something.”

The Night Elf soldier grumbled something dismissive before wandering off, seeming to doubt whether it was really “quite something” at all.

“…………”

Tafuman also felt strange, having just said that.

This is the situation. Thanks to that Demon Lord’s Prince—or maybe because of it—there’s a strangely tense peace between the citizens of the Autonomous District and the Demon Lord’s Army.

The intention for rebellion among Tafuman and others is clear, and since the deputy governor welcomes it, the Demon Lord’s Army does not need to enact strict measures.

And a rebellion with no chance of victory would be meaningless, and time is needed to accumulate strength; thus, there will absolutely be no rebellion today or tomorrow.

Both sides understand this—hence the peace.

Feeling somewhat unsettled, Tafuman twisted his neck as he returned home.

“Phew… I’m back.”

Entering the eerily quiet house, he muttered like it was a solitary thought.

It’s a small but decent two-story house. There’s even an attic and a basement. Surviving among the fierce urban battles, this property is miraculously in good condition.

…Except for a dark stain spread across the floor that resembles a skull.

It was the aftermath of the elderly couple who lived here committing suicide. They were found in a horrible state after quite a bit of time had passed since their death, lying on top of each other, coincidentally leaving a stain resembling a skull that would not wash away no matter how hard it was scrubbed.

Thus, even though there are spare rooms, no one wanted to live here other than Tafuman. By the way, he took care of the bodies all by himself.

“It’s just a difference in how conspicuous the marks are…”

Tafuman thought, since there aren’t many places in this royal capital without corpses.

He had seen more than enough dead people on the battlefield… he had even slept beside a corpse. At this point, Tafuman wouldn’t be shaken by something like a stain on the floor. Still, he understood how those who felt uncomfortable or had a lingering taste for that could think that way.

Yawn… he collapsed onto the bed upstairs. With the unfamiliar title of Vice Captain to bear, he was utterly exhausted from listening to others and walking around.

“Ahh, I wish I could go drinking like in the old days…”

If the Autonomous District stabilizes more, will shops and taverns open up? The peace of those days, where he could go drink with comrades, getting gloriously drunk while being scolded by the tavern owner, now seemed so precious… now that tavern… and the comrades…

“…Zzz…”

But before he could even dwell on the past, Tafuman quickly began to snore.

Then—

As if on cue, “mist” began to creep in through the window.

A blonde beauty in a dress materializes rapidly within the room.

Yavka Cheesuina.

“Finally fell asleep, have we…”

She had been prowling the night streets looking for blood as she was starting to need it, and she decided on a lively man—Tafuman.

“Ugh, smells like sweat!”

Approaching the bed, Yavka pinches her nose. Tafuman had been running around all day sweating and went to sleep without even wiping himself down—even though this is not the first time—Tafuman, to put it mildly, was a bit of a problem.

Disgusted by the stench, Yavka mutters a short incantation and breathes a mist of sleep onto Tafuman. Just in case.

Then, she inspected the back of Tafuman’s neck as he snored.

“Hm… No wounds to be found…”

As per the arrangements for vampires living in the Autonomous District, blood has to be drawn from the neck. They determine whether someone has already been fed upon by the presence or healing of tiny wounds on the neck.

This was a measure to prevent harming human health through over-consuming.

By the way, directly biting into the neck poses the risk of turning the victim into a subordinate or losing control and sucking them dry, which is why it’s recommended to slice with claws and collect the blood in a vessel. With the blood manipulated, a small cut can heal instantly.

So, rather than drinking blood, it is more like drawing blood.

And Yavka is no exception; she has a cup prepared for collecting blood.

“…………”

However, touching the neck of a smelly man directly to inflict a wound is something she would prefer to avoid. It feels like… something dirty might mix in.

“It was fortunate that I brought this just in case…”

She has a backup plan. Yavka pulls a handkerchief and a small bottle from her pouch. The contents of the bottle is strong distilled liquor. She plans to soak the handkerchief in it and cleanse the neck—

Clink, the pleasing sound of the liquor bottle opening.

Tafuman, who had been snoring, twitched.

“Liquor…?”

Drowsily, he stirred awake.

“…Huh?”

And then he locked eyes with Yavka, who was soaking the handkerchief in alcohol.

 

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