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I didn’t even have time to relax after returning to Lüenheit. Together with Aylia, I immediately departed Lüenheit at the head of fifty-six werewolves.
This time, no humans were accompanying us at all—not Aylia’s maids, not even her clerks.
If something happened, I wouldn’t be able to protect them.
As a commander, I have the authority to decide whose lives take priority. For example, I can make the call to “protect Aylia, the most important person, and abandon all other humans.”
That authority is also a commander’s duty.

Still, very few people would be happy to be told, “You’re not that important, so die in place of someone important.”
It feels like something a middle manager at a black company would say, and even saying it leaves a bad taste.
But given my position, I would have to say it if necessary.
I didn’t like that, so I decided to leave all the humans behind.
I intend to quietly stick to this policy from now on as well.

I actually wanted to bring Rasie along as combat strength, but I gave up on that too.
She’s a traitor in the eye of the Senate. It would be better for her to avoid cities close to the north.
The more she sees and hears, the more variations her illusions gain, so I really wanted to take her around everywhere… but still.

Zaria, sitting alone in the middle of the wasteland, was a strange city from the very first impression.
In this world, any large city always has walls. Zaria doesn’t. The reason is simple: it hasn’t been authorized by the Senate.
All the buildings in the city are large, three to four stories tall. The first two floors are solid stone, while everything above that is made of sun-dried brick, an earthy color.
It looks like a district of clay-colored high-rises—an unsettling sight in this world.

I had the werewolf unit wait in the nearby wasteland, while Aylia, myself, and our eight guards headed into Zaria.
As we approached the city, Aylia explained.

“The lower floors are used as warehouses and such, and they’re built sturdily to withstand intrusion or destruction. The upper floors are residential and are constantly renovated and expanded, so they’re made of sun-dried brick.”
“I see. The lower floors serve as substitute walls.”

The stone sections seem to be built quite solidly to support the upper levels—probably too tough even for werewolves to break.
Once inside the city, its strangeness became even more pronounced.

Even during the day, it’s dim. The alleys are narrow and winding, making it impossible to move straight ahead. They branch endlessly, yet there’s nothing that could serve as a landmark.

“It really is a maze…”

The buildings are packed tightly together, and there are no doors in sight. There are windows here and there, but only small grated ones high up, meant solely for lighting.
The alleys are so narrow that armed soldiers couldn’t enter in formation. Even cavalry wouldn’t be able to charge at full speed.
And yet, I can sense people. Smells, voices, footsteps—signs of human presence drift in from everywhere.

Aylia gives a wry smile.

“This is Zaria’s pride and joy—the labyrinth. Thieves and beasts can’t harm this city.”
“True enough.”

Thieves and beasts wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d just wander in circles inside the city.
But if you used siege engines to smash the buildings themselves, it would fall surprisingly easily.
Which means that’s exactly what the Senate intends. If Zaria ever defies them, they can crush it at any time.
The governor of Zaria must have it rough.

We’re led by a high-ranking official who came to greet us, and we climb a staircase tucked beside an alley.

“This way, please.”

What he leads us to looks unmistakably like a back entrance to a private home.
Inside, it really is a back door, opening into a kitchen with a hearth. Several pots are hanging on the walls.
Once inside, the attendant takes a pestle and strikes several pots in a set rhythm. After repeating “clang, thud, bang” three times, the stone ceiling grinds and begins to move.

Then a voice comes from above.

“Who goes there?”

After confirming our identities, the official replies.

“A blue lily, and a black half-moon. Two-eight.”

After a short while, a ladder is lowered from above.

“Lady Aylia, and the Demon Lord’s adjutant—please.”

Just to be safe, I send Hammarn and the others ahead, then smile at Aylia.

“Looks like that exchange was some kind of passphrase. In that case, you’d be the blue lily?”
“Then you would be the black half-moon, Lord Veit.”

We share a wry smile and cautiously climb the ladder.
At the top is a cramped room lined with multiple doors.
In a low voice, the official warns us.

“The false doors are booby-trapped. Please do not touch them under any circumstances.”
“Understood.”

It’s like a secret society’s hideout.

Only after that are we finally guided to what seems to be the governor’s residence.
White plaster-like walls are decorated with vivid patterns painted in colorful dyes. It has a vaguely West Asian feel, like something from my previous life.
That said, the place barely smells of people. It seems unused most of the time—probably a reception-only facility.
As I sit down on a sofa, I mutter without thinking.

“Governor Mergio seems to be a very cautious man.”

At my words, the official bows respectfully.

“Lord Mergio regularly changes his office. It is the rule of the Governor of Zaria that his whereabouts not be widely known.”
“I see.”

At this level of caution, I wonder if it doesn’t make everyday administration inconvenient.

The official leaves briefly, then soon returns and says to me,

“Before negotiating with Lüenheit, the governor wishes to negotiate separately with the Demon Lord’s army. Please, this way.”

That’s strange.

“If he wants a separate discussion in advance, shouldn’t it be with Lady Aylia instead?”
“No. He has expressed a strong desire to meet Lord Veit personally, famed as a fierce general of the Demon Lord’s army.”
“I’m afraid I must refuse. The Demon Lord’s army and Lüenheit are a unified body with shared goals. Separate negotiations are out of the question. Please convey that to him.”

The way this is unfolding feels unnatural.
And being separated from Aylia would make things risky if something happened.

As the official struggles with my response, Aylia steps in to help.

“If this is to be an informal meeting, then I shall attend as well.”
“Th-that would be—”

Before the official can object, Aylia cuts him off.

“Or is my presence inconvenient? Would it cause problems for ‘Demon Ambassador’ Aylia Rütte Aindorf to be present?”
“Not at all!”

Startled by her tone, the official hastily shakes his head.

“Then, Lady Aylia, Lord Veit. Please grant us an informal audience with the governor before the formal negotiations.”

Aylia and I exchange glances, then stand.

“Guards and maids, wait here. ‘Rest from your journey’ and ‘make yourselves comfortable.’”

Hammarn bows deeply.

“Understood, ‘Great Adjutant.’”

Zarians aren’t the only ones who use code phrases. We do too.
What I just told the werewolves was, “Assume we are in hostile territory. Maintain combat readiness. Squad leaders are authorized to engage at their own discretion.”
Hammarn’s reply was the acknowledgment.

This all feels extremely suspicious.
Aylia and I walk down a long corridor and are led to a door at the very end.

“Lord Mergio is waiting in this room.”

As the official says this and turns to leave, I stop him.

“Attendant, wait.”
“What is it?”

I grab his shoulder as he turns back and question him.

“I smell blood and vomit from beyond that door. What state is Lord Mergio in right now?”

At that moment, the official tries to flee without answering.
I won’t let him. Still gripping his shoulder, I transform into a werewolf.

“I told you to wait.”

My claws dig into his shoulder. I’m holding back, but they’re still biting in—it must hurt badly.

The official groans in agony and screams.

“G-ghaa!! RUFFIANS!!!”

Heavy footsteps echo down the corridor. Armed soldiers are rushing in from all sides.
I see. So that’s how it is.

“I understand the situation well enough. You’ll sleep for a while.”

I punch the official in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. I see several teeth go flying, but given that he’s clearly a villain, he can live with it.
We could fight here in the corridor, but it’s too narrow for werewolves to rampage freely, and that door behind us is a concern.

“Lady Aylia, stay close to me.”
“Yes, Lord Veit.”

With a tense expression, Aylia nods and draws her saber, taking a thrust-ready stance suited for close-quarters combat.
I signal the werewolves of the attack with a howl, then kick open the door and leap into the room.