A Request for Aid
"Several nations might be forming."
In the office, Yuria reported.
"Is that about my town?"
"No, it's about somewhere unrelated to you, master."
"Ah."
I’d thought it was about a rebellion, but that wasn’t it.
"Guess that happens sometimes."
I thought of Malart and Maxim.
There must be other people out there with the kind of charisma that can rally humans like that.
If someone like that runs a territory properly—without exploitation or plunder—then it’s only natural they’d eventually become a nation.
"Maya said, lately, Schreivij has been getting raided by others too."
"I see. So the idea’s spreading—topple a simian, free a human."
"What do we do?"
"Hmm? Nothing, really. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? The more humans get freed, the better."
"Got it. We’ll do nothing then."
Did I think I’d actually do something just because I said something?
While listening to Yuria’s report, I glanced at the demand graph on the blackboard.
Bermi, which had seen a sudden surge in refugees just a little while ago, had calmed down considerably—now on par with other towns.
The nation’s administration was running smoothly.
“Just gather the intel.”
I gave the order. Yuria nodded quietly.
☆
The next day, a messenger arrived.
Having heard from Yuria, I allowed entry into the palace and escorted them to the reception hall.
When I arrived there, I was startled.
The woman before me was unmistakably not human.
Silver hair. Pointed ears. Brown skin.
Sharp, battle-ready features. An aura radiating from her entire frame.
“Dark Elf?”
I blurted it out without thinking.
If Eternal Slaves were full-blooded Elves, then this woman standing before me was clearly a Dark Elf.
She stood, then bowed deeply.
"First time meeting you, Your Majesty. My name is Sveta. Please do remember me."
"Ah, uh, yeah. Nice to meet you."
I was startled by the dark elf-like woman, flustered for a moment.
"Ah, well, have a seat."
"Excuse me."
She turned around and sat across the table.
"Excuse me."
The door opened, and Risha came in.
She brought tea for me and Sveta.
"..."
Risha stared at Sveta, unblinking.
Curious, but also afraid.
That was the look on her face.
After Risha left, I apologized to her.
"Sorry. My slave hasn't been properly trained."
"No, it's natural. I would've done the same."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
She said it with that vague, knowing tone.
"Could it be you don't know? We, the Regret, were originally Eternal Slaves."
"...Oh."
I was barely keeping myself from reacting in shock.
"First time hearing it. Can I hear more details?"
"A well-known tale,"
She was given a roundabout “don’t worry about it” before getting straight to the point.
"Eternal slaves are creatures made to serve their masters. If they meet their master, that’s fine. Otherwise, by a certain age, they change. Into this form."
So that’s how it is. You were originally an Eternal Slave, huh?
"That's right. After changing like this, they're called 'Regret.' Well, it's a well-known thing."
She ran the conversation through her mind again, tidying it up like a messy bundle of threads.
Born an elf—eternal slave—and growing old without a master, is that what turns you into a dark elf? A regret.
...You know, just looking at her, there's this whole 'fallen' vibe to it.
Sorry… I asked about something unpleasant.
"No, it's fine."
Svetlana shook her head.
Her expression was firm—though she didn’t seem to care at all.
I decided not to bring up that topic.
Five slaves, huh. I’ll get the details from them later.
“What’s this? You come all the way here for me?”
“We’ve brought a letter from our queen.”
She pulled a sealed envelope from her pocket.
Wax pressed with a mark, tightly sealed—overly formal, really.
“The queen. You’ve formed a nation?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, without hesitation.
Yuria said it might happen. Now it’s already done.
I’ll look into it later.
“Huh. So what’s the reason?”
“We wish to establish trade with your country.”
Svetlana stared straight at me.
Her eyes were almost pleading.
Like she was silently begging: “Please help us.”