The Demon Lord himself was not overwhelmingly powerful.

  Well, correction: he was stronger than any other demon—as the demons liked to rank themselves by strength—but only by a slight margin over his number two. No, what made him terrifying was his intellect and charisma.

  For centuries, demons had segregated themselves into tribes, and the infighting meant that human territories rarely bore the brunt of any demonic activity.

  But in just five short years, the Demon Lord had rallied all the disparate tribes around himself, eliminated any dissenters, and begun directing coordinated attacks on human settlements—to a degree the kingdom was wholly unprepared for.

  First, vilges fell. The buildings razed to the ground, their inhabitants killed or ensved, the fields burned and salted.

  Then, entire border fiefdoms fell. That was when the nobles began to take notice. Commoner casualties had merely been headlines to them, sad stories to tell around teatime, but they could no longer ignore it when Baron Such-and-such or Viscount So-and-so stopped attending their parties—being either dead or preoccupied with defense. They lobbied and cmored with the king and crown prince for a solution.

  His Majesty issued a decree: decisive victory. Rally a Grand Royal Army, and strike at the heart of the enemy! But as, the Demon Lord was clever.

  While he was consolidating strength, his tactics had resembled gueril warfare—small skirmishes along the border, inciting chaos and forcing soldiers to be stationed throughout the region. Relief resources from the capital were slow to disseminate, bogged down by yers of bureaucracy. And even once they left the treasury, the funds were often misappropriated.

  It was every fief for itself. They each needed standing security in case they were next in the Demon Lord's crosshairs. None could spare a single soldier for His Majesty's grand army.

  Thus, the crown prince had proposed: a mobile task force of talented individuals, sent to fortify key positions and preserve the strength of the common soldiery...

  I reseated my pen in the inkwell and read Lumiere's letter again, back to front. Her letter was filled with reassurances—she was the type of obedient child who wouldn't admit to trouble, even if she badly needed help. But my only concern was the facts. I frowned, knowing that this was just the prelude to the hero party's troubles.

  In the end, the kingdom would not rally enough troops to make a meaningful push, and it was the Demon Lord who would make the first move... forcing the hero party to carve their way through enemy territory, while the bulk of the Demon Lord's army were occupied ransacking the capital.

  Still, without the experience they gained from these small skirmishes, they would not have had the strength to attempt such a brazen counterattack. So far, the game's story was unfolding as I knew it.

  Lumiere was thrilled to report that the first few assignments went off without a hitch: most recently, they had repelled goblin raids along the south and southeast borders, then dealt with dire wolves in the north. Just as the Demon Lord controlled lesser demons, so could the lesser demons command such mindless monsters. But the individual threat level of these first few missions was low, and the demons behind them not terribly clever. Small fry.

  Next up would be securing the northeastern border against an army of undead—a chance for the Saintess to show off her might. Lumiere had received the Goddess's favor, as well as my tutege on holy magic. Healing spells "cured" the undead, bypassing their obnoxious regeneration abilities. She would be their natural counter.

  The first true test would be at Lake Pcid. Battles on and in the water tended to be rife with complications, compared to battles on nd. The enemy was not only the monsters, but also the environment itself...

  "Stop it."

  I squared away my worries and penned an upbeat reply. She didn't need to be burdened with my dark thoughts. I supposed she and I were simir in that way.

  With bated breath, I awaited Lumiere's next letter.

  But for weeks and weeks, that letter never came. I nervously flipped through the pages of my notebook. Time in this world didn't necessarily flow the same as it did in the game, I reasoned. They're probably still out there on the undead assignment—it was notorious among pyers for being unnecessarily dragged out. Or maybe they were already done and moved on, and Lumiere was simply too busy to write. The troubles always seemed to come one after the other, after all.

  Like that, a full month had passed.

  And instead of a letter, our little vilge received... a rider.

  "Cire de Lune!"

  The man shouted breathlessly as he pulled the reins on his whinnying horse. It circled the square, huffing, as if channeling her rider's anxiety.

  I was busy hanging up undry and turned to look at the sound of hoofbeats piercing the cold morning air. The other girls' eyes darted between me and the goateed interloper.

  "The nun! Cire de Lune. Please fetch me the young woman by this name!"

  The urgency was evident in his voice. Others were now emerging from their rooms, some still rubbing sleep from their eyes. I stepped out cautiously from behind a damp bedsheet.

  "Goddess be with you. What business do you have?"

  He scanned me up and down, as if confirming my features, then fshed the royal insignia on his inside pocket as proof of identity.

  "I take it you are she, midy. There's been a summons from the capital."

  He paused, swallowing to wet his parched and dusty throat. I unconsciously mirrored his action—but moreso out of apprehension. I slowly nodded.

  "It's as you say, sir."

  "Then let us depart posthaste. If we ride now, we can make the city gate by sundown."

  I felt a lump in my throat. I couldn't help but fear for the worst.

  "Do you need to take a break? I've got some biscuits packed, and a waterskin here."

  Really, I was asking for myself. It was my first time ever on horseback, even as a passenger. And I was sore as hell.

  Because I was small and slender, the horse didn't seem to be struggling. I, on the other hand, was holding onto the rider's back for dear life.

  If the rider noticed my muffled curses, he didn't indicate it.

  "Your kindness is appreciated. This humble servant is hardy and had a big breakfast before arriving at midy's vilge. Though... by your grace, a swig of water sounds good right about now."

  I grabbed and uncapped the waterskin from my bag. Besides that, all I had on me was my notebook, one change in clothes, and a bundle of wafers that the girls had hastily shoved into my bag. I leaned in and held the waterskin up, stopping just short of his mouth.

  "Just call me Cire. May I inquire—the reason I'm being summoned? You whisked me away so quickly, I didn't have a chance to ask."

  "I'm afraid I can say little. All I was told was where to go, who to find, and 'urgently', and before long, I had set off."

  He lowered his head and tried to catch the nipple, but I dropped my hand intentionally so he missed. With some uncertainty in his voice, he offered.

  "...It's something to do with the Saintess. If I dared to guess."

  I froze, my heart sinking into my stomach.

  "Is she safe?"

  "I've seen Her Holiness up and about, so her health at least seems to be in perfect order. That said..."

  His voice trailed off, as if he was lost in thought. I lifted the waterskin once again, and he seized the chance to take a mouthful of water. Reinvigorated, he continued.

  "She seems to be in low spirits. The whole party is. Their st mission went poorly, I'm afraid. The details... I'm not privy to."

  I was stunned. But I quickly rationalized. Though a veteran pyer like me had cleared it at least a hundred times, the game was by no means easy or newbie-friendly. It was only normal for new pyers to fail several times—even get wiped—at the very first encounter. That the hero party had escaped unscathed was favorable enough. As long as they lived, they could try again.

  The Hero must have wanted me to visit and offer my reassurances to Lumiere, so they could recover their spirits and regroup as soon as possible. Yes, that must be it.

  After all, practicing holy magic on stationary dummies is one thing—but on the job, with monsters bearing down on you... it's a whole different animal. It was normal to be scared or discouraged.

  Perhaps the Hero was more considerate than I gave him credit for.

  As the rider—whose name I found out ter was Damien—promised, we arrived at the city gate before nightfall. The castle wasn't open for visitors after dark, so he booked two rooms for us at a nearby inn.

  "Please go on ahead, midy. I need to get my mare hitched and fed."

  As he was leading his horse to the stable, he turned around and added:

  "We'll be up at the crack of dawn. Heading to the castle first thing."

  "Goddess be with you. Sweet dreams."

  I waved and headed upstairs first, finding my room almost immediately. This inn was small but impressively well-furnished. However, I didn't have the energy to bathe, and I was already hurting all over. So I just plopped face-first into bed. I'd have to remember to apologize to the innkeeper in the morning for mucking up his bedsheets.

  That night, I dreamt about Lumiere—and the things I could say to make her feel better.