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“All right, this should do it.”

I looked over the shrine the dogfolk unit had built and nodded in satisfaction.
It was a shrine to appease the octopus.

In this island octopus subjugation operation, we lost two centaurs and one mermaid. Far fewer casualties than expected, but not zero.
For them, it was a mission they would never return from alive.
Many sailors of Belrüsa had also been killed by it in the past.
So it was decided to erect a stone monument that would serve as both a victory memorial and a cenotaph, and while we were at it, we had them build a small shrine as well.

I’m Japanese, so I have that sense that “once you die, everyone becomes a Buddha.”
At the same time, there’s also that “better safe than sorry—just enshrine it” kind of mentality.
So I decided to enshrine the island octopus too. The “shrine” was just a small wooden box you could hold under one arm.
Since no one would really know the difference anyway, I ordered a design with a shrine-like feel. That said, my memory of the details was pretty vague.
As the sacred object, I enshrined the dangerous crossbow bolt head that had been used when we buried the thing.

“Lord Veit, what is this?”

The dogfolk who had built the shrine looked puzzled, so I gave them a suitably vague answer.

“It’s a ritual to make sure the island octopus doesn’t appear again. I’m not an expert, so it’s really just for peace of mind.”

All right—let’s call it the Island Octopus Shrine.
I soaked a brush with black paint and wrote in kanji on a frame that looked like a kamaboko board.
Rest in peace, you damn octopus.
I recommend being a werewolf in your next life.
Then I boarded the warship Friedenrichter once more.
The ship was now under the command of the Belrüsa navy. This time, I wasn’t the admiral—just a passenger. It was a comfortable position.

“Admiral! We’re about to set sail! Are all of your men accounted for!?”

I’m not the admiral this time, but whatever.
I shouted back to the Belrüsa marine.

“That’s everyone! Leave everyone behind except the werewolf unit and my close aides!”
“Aye, admiral!”

I said I’m not the admiral anymore.

Since we were going to Lotzo strictly for negotiations, I was only bringing the minimum necessary escort and aides.
Specifically, the eight members of the werewolf unit, Rasie, and—might as well—Parker.

“Just now, you were thinking something rude when you looked at my face, weren’t you?”

Parker said something, but I ignored him.

“By the way, Veit, are you sure it’s okay to leave the rowers entirely to the Belrüsa military? If we’re short of men, I can provide some.”

Garsche laughed in response.

“Don’t worry about it. Belrüsa’s got plenty of manpower!”

Hearing that, Rasie tilted her head.

“But according to the Senate’s documents, Belrüsa has a population of two thousand, with a mere one hundred allotted garrison… but there are clearly more than that.”

Exactly. Belrüsa was a city spread across the entire inlet, with buildings lined up everywhere.
In the streets, tough-looking guards stood with curved swords at their waists, arms crossed, ready to beat down any trouble with brute force.
Parker muttered;

“By the looks of it, Belrüsa’s population is well over ten thousand, and with several hundreds of guards.”

Garsche looked positively delighted.

“Oh, the population really is only two thousand. Belrüsa’s a port town, you see. There are a lot of ships ‘currently docked.’ That means lots of people.”
“You mean houseboats.”

I said, and Garsche’s grin widened even further.

“No, no—see, they’re ready to set sail at any moment, as long as the wind and waves cooperate! Can’t do anything about that, right?”

The captain’s laughter set his men roaring with laughter as well.

Among the southern cities, Belrüsa has particularly bad relations with the north.
Because of that, its urban area was tightly constrained, with walls set up to prevent the city from expanding.
But there’s nothing stopping you from floating things on the sea.
So under the pretext of docked or under-construction ships—or calling them “piers”—they went ahead and built houses all over the water.
That’s how it worked, apparently.

“Thanks to that, people come gathering here from all over the south. They’re all guests waiting to set sail.”

Both in Lüenheit and Schaldir, the same wall restrictions prevented us from increasing their populations too.
The north was wary of cities close to them growing too powerful.
So the excess population of each city migrated to the southern edge—Belrüsa and Lotzo. Here, the Senate’s eyes didn’t reach.

“My granddad’s hometown was Schaldir.”
“My old man’s from Lüenheit. My cousin’s in the Lüenheit merchants’ guild.”
“Oh, I’m from Tübahn. Moved here with my family ten years ago.”

The Belrüsa marines introduced themselves.
These are the current circumstances.

Garsche went on,

“We took in drifters without much thought, and it turned into a real rough-and-tumble town. These days people ignore the walls and build houses everywhere. But thanks to that, Belrüsa has a standing army of six thousand.”
“Six thousand!?”

Rasie exclaimed, looking around in shock.

“…At least, that’s how it’s officially counted. If I called in some favor, I could probably gather even more.”

It seemed Belrüsa maintained its ties with the north by shouldering the burden of the southern standing army.
In reality, that standing army existed only on paper, and the “soldiers” made their living fishing or building ships.

Half exasperated, I could only reply,

“You’re a bunch of scoundrels.”
“We’re god damn pirates.”

Garsche said, laughing cheerfully.
He then issued orders to his men.

“All right, you lot, it’s time to set sail! We’re heading for Lotzo!”
“Aye, boss!”

A bronze gong announcing departure rang out loudly, and five warships began to glide slowly across the sea.
Once the ships left the inlet, the mermaids appeared as if they had been watching all along.
Ever since the island octopus was defeated, the mermaids had been actively interacting with the Demon Lord’s Army.

“Hello Veit, Parker.”
“Are you heading out somewhere?”
“If you don’t mind, shall we accompany you?”

Since they offered, I gratefully accepted.

“We’re going to Lotzo while checking the safety of the sea route. It’d be a big help if some of you came along.”
“If that’s all, we’d be happy to.”

Having underwater scouts would make checking the route much more reassuring.

From Belrüsa to Lotzo takes about two days by galley. Compared to sailing ships, galleys are slower because you have to let the rowers rest.
Being able to advance against wind and tide is a galley’s advantage, but sailing ships can also work their way upwind by tacking.

“Wouldn’t it have been better if I’d summoned skeletons to row? They could row day and night.”

Parker suggested, but I shook my head.

“Garsche said he’d handle the negotiations. The Demon Lord’s Army scares people, so we want to present ourselves as part of the Belrüsa governor’s delegation.”
“Being human sounds like a lot of trouble.”
“Aren’t you originally human too?”

Parker gave a wry shrug.

“I’m someone who no longer needs to eat or sleep, feels no pain, and has even forgotten the thrill of love. A human heart fades with time.”
“Ah, right…”

Right, this guy’s circumstances are actually pretty serious.
But Parker quickly smiled.

“On the bright side, it means I can spend the time while you’re sleeping coming up with ways to mess with you!”
“I’ve told you to stop that! Want me to stuff oranges into those empty eye sockets of yours!?”
“Oh, that’s a great idea! Mind if I use that joke sometime?”

Do whatever you want.

While we were trading banter, the voyage progressed smoothly, and the Belrüsa fleet sighted the port of Lotzo.
Garsche crossed his arms and grinned.

“Landing party, prepare to disembark!”

Pouring out of the ship’s cabins were men with truly vicious-looking faces.
Musclebound men with mohawks and shaved heads hoisted spiked maces and axes bristling with spikes.

“Aye, boss!”
“Hyaah-haah! Is it our turn!?”
“My arms are itching!”

What post-apocalyptic wasteland did you guys crawl out of?

“Hey, Garsche, what are you planning to do with a bunch like this?”

When I asked, Garsche shrugged.

“If we’re going to persuade that old b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲ Petore, the governor of Lotzo, we need at least this much ‘persuasive power.’”
“You call this persuasion in Belrusa?”

Isn’t this just violence?

“Well, leave this to us. We owe you. Gotta repay our debts, even if it’s just a little. Let’s go, you b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲s̲!”
“Hyaah-haah!”
“Orraaah!”

Is it really okay to leave this to them?
Thinking that, I decided—for now—to just watch how things played out.