The Pouting Satania
1069 Words
From a geographical perspective, the southeastern coastline of the Demon Lord’s domain stretched in a straight line, with the Lizardmen, Centaurs, and Gorgons’ territories arranged in sequence. Beyond the easternmost part of the forest, where the giant wasps had been exterminated, lay the Lizardmen’s domain—just a two-day journey outside the forest.
Beyond them was the Centaur territory on the plains, and further toward the ocean, the Gorgons' domain.
Although these lands were labeled as the territories of specific races, various other species often resided within them. For instance, the Gorgon domain was currently home to a number of Siren-like sea creatures.
With the frontier war against the Empire coming to a halt, border guards—comprising Insectoid warriors and other military units—were gradually making their return.
Notably, very few leaders of the frontier territories had defected. Or rather, only those regions bordering other nations had even entertained the thought of rebellion. Perhaps this was due to their reliance on the Demon Lord’s domain for supplies, or simply because they had little to offer in taxes to begin with.
Border guards had always been worthy of respect—even if Ira had killed his fair share of them.
“Before we set out, do any of you have anything to say?”
Ira posed the question as he calculated the distance and travel time. “Even with the enhancement of the Nether Road, reaching the Lizardmen’s domain won’t be quick. How do you plan to maintain morale along the way?”
Serenata, commander of the lesser demons who served as the main force (for better or worse), responded calmly, “As long as they don’t encounter the Regent, the monsters won’t mutiny, nor will they flee.”
Technically, she was right.
But something still felt missing. Simply marching off without a word seemed… inadequate.
Ira pondered this as he spread his crimson wings and turned to the girl flying beside him—Satania.
“Satania, are you sure you want to go? In my understanding, rulers rarely take to the battlefield themselves.”
“Eh? My father did it all the time.”
“…Right.”
Ira momentarily faltered before offering a dry chuckle. “That’s exactly why the Demon Lord’s domain ended up like this. A king dying in battle is disastrous for a nation’s stability.”
Still, this campaign was a mere skirmish, barely worth calling a war.
So perhaps it wasn’t a big deal.
“Stay close to me and don’t disrupt the battlefield,” Ira instructed. “If all goes well, this could be a good opportunity for you to gain some experience.”
His gaze swept over the assembled forces below—headless knights, black knights, and insectoid hunters standing in grim formation. Behind him, a vast swarm of harpies hovered, their wings darkening the sky.
Two hundred forty headless knights, two hundred black knights.
Though the numbers sounded modest, the sight of an entire army clad in full armor was overwhelmingly oppressive.
After all, these knights were fully armored.
In both the medieval world Ira had once known and in this magic-infused realm, armor was an incredibly effective asset.
A fully armored soldier versus an unarmored one? A one-sided m******e.
Even now, Ira still couldn’t quite grasp why warriors, upon transforming into headless knights, automatically acquired these metallic, magic-infused suits.
Perhaps it was simply the nature of magic.
“Aren’t you going to announce our departure?”
Ira prompted.
Satania cast him a glance before responding, “But… I feel like everyone is waiting for you to give the order.”
“That’s not the point. You should do it. Say something.”
“Your father disliked giving speeches before battle too,” Ira added. “But history proves that it’s incredibly effective. Even monsters aren’t emotionless machines, you know.”
Satania hesitated, contemplating his words before finally fluttering forward.
Under the gaze of thousands of eyes and countless burning soul-fires, she faltered.
She had no idea what to say.
If only Silina were here...
Her mind raced, but the words she’d thought of earlier had suddenly lodged themselves in her throat.
“…E-Everyone…”
The young Demon Lord’s voice stumbled out, awkward and uncertain. After squeezing out those two syllables, she froze again, scanning the outer walls of the Demon Lord’s city and the distant forest beyond.
Her mind spun desperately.
“…Uh, well… The Lizardmen have betrayed us. No, actually, it’s not just the Lizardmen.”
Satania had initially intended to speak with confidence, but she quickly second-guessed herself.
Unconsciously, she tucked her fiery red tail between her legs, her voice shifting into something between a declaration and a muttered grievance.
“…The Centaurs and Gorgons too… and those damned Gnolls.”
She fumed, voice rising, “Ugh! This is so frustrating!”
Ira barely managed to hold back his laughter.
Despite her nervousness and embarrassment, there was something oddly amusing about the whole scene.
“But in the end…”
Satania pressed on, her words becoming less of a speech and more of an outpouring.
“All the other lords have betrayed us. Only a few remain loyal.”
She paused before continuing, voice tinged with both sorrow and anger.
“The Lizardmen, the Gnolls, and so many other leaders… They no longer recognize me as the Demon Lord.”
“They blame me for our failures in war, yet they take no responsibility themselves. They claim the Demon Lord’s title has lost its meaning, that I don’t deserve to sit on the throne.”
Her words carried the weight of her inner turmoil.
“If those accusations came from Silina… or from any of you, from any of my commanders, I would be devastated. I would question whether I deserved to remain Demon Lord.”
“But they—they have no right!”
Her hand pressed against her chest, scarlet eyes burning like twin stars.
“Those traitors never acknowledged me.
And I do not need their recognition.
They are unworthy of offering it.”
“Those rebels—”
Now truly in the moment, Satania’s voice rose as she threw out her arms.
The lace sleeves of her dress rippled in the wind, producing a crisp, clear sound.
Her voice wasn’t particularly loud…
But at this moment, it thundered across the army.
“HAVE NO RIGHT TO QUESTION THE CROWN!”
- Writer
