Chapter 191
★ Urume Main House, Subterranean City ★
The other guarded building Reiji had found was the largest in the entire subterranean city.
Yet it had no particular grandeur to speak of. An octagonal foundation supported a five-story base, on which a haphazard assortment of buildings had been stacked like building blocks.
At its center stood the residence of the Urume Main House.
The rules of the subterranean city were decided by the ten-member "City Council," and the Urume family had supplied its chairpersons for generations. That should give you an idea of how important the Urume family was in this city.
Although it was during the hours when the outdoor lights were off, the house itself was brilliantly illuminated. Intricately cut glass reflected the light of the magic lamps in dazzling patterns. The interior was just as lavish, but the furniture's designs and color schemes were hopelessly mismatched.
For example, next to a carpet with a chic argyle pattern stood an ethnic-style display shelf, and beside that was a steel table.
The reason was simple: all these items had been passed down through the generations, and every one had been seized during times of war.
"I heard the patrol unit got beaten, but that wasn't in your report, was it?"
The speaker was Salme, mistress of the room and current head of the Urume Main House.
Unlike the city's simply dressed residents, she wore a dress so frilly that even a dress-up doll would rarely be seen in one. Both hands were covered in rings so encrusted with jewels that they could have served as brass knuckles.
The problem was her build. The wine-filled goblet in her hand was normally the size of a one-liter beer mug, yet in her grip it looked like one of those little glasses served alongside bottled beer—not only her hand, but her entire body, was huge.
The upholstered steel chair—something that normally took three people on each side to carry—groaned every time she shifted.
Her long blond hair was wavy, but years of overeating had robbed it of its luster; her latest concern was her thinning crown. That was Salme, chair of the Subterranean City's council and head of the Urume Main House.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think it was important enough to bring to Salme-sama's attention."
The man, whose sturdy build and movements marked him unmistakably as a soldier, bent at the waist and bowed. A single gray strand had fallen loose from his slicked-back style and drooped over one eye.
His manner appeared polite, but there was something faintly insolent about it.
"I decide what I need to know, you hear me!"
Salme roared, her acne-pocked cheeks trembling. The man straightened and weathered her anger with his eyes firmly closed. His deep-set eyes were red, a characteristic of subterraneans, but faint wrinkles lined their corners. He looked to be nearing forty.
Salme glared at him with snake-like eyes before drinking from her goblet. Subterraneans lived underground, where they were safe, but naturally could not grow grapes. Wine made from grapes grown in the few vineyards outside the city was therefore a precious commodity. At the Urume Main House, however, even that precious commodity was consumed like water.
"Hah. My apologies. I shall revise the level of information I report from now on."
"Marshal... that's not what I mean."
It was clearly a request for more information, but since that was what Salme had said,
"Hah. My apologies."
was the only response he could give. Even though this man was the Marshal, the military's highest-ranking officer, the subterranean city's chain of command was absolute. This woman stood at the top of the hierarchy, and whenever she declared something to be so, the only acceptable responses were "Yes," "Understood," or "Wonderful."
In this city, black crows turning white was an everyday occurrence. Though she had never studied military affairs in her life, this woman had interfered in the army's organization twenty-one times, six of which had resulted in major structural changes.
The reason the Marshal had remained in office was that his father was one of the ten councilors. But he had no idea what would happen if he ever did something contrary to Salme's wishes. That was how absolute the will of the Urume Main House was.
"Dig out that ear clogged with rotten earwax and listen closely. What I'm saying is... the idiot who suggested we confiscate that so-called airship. If not for that, we wouldn't have needed to reexamine the airship, and the patrol unit you sent wouldn't have lost. Right?"
"..."
"That's what I'm asking you!"
The goblet flew through the air at tremendous speed, grazed the Marshal's left ear, and slammed into the wall behind him. The spilled wine stained his military uniform.
"...Yes, that is correct."
"Then you know how to proceed from here, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then go. I made you Marshal so you could get things moving quickly in times like this."
With an "Ugh, heave-ho," Salme rose from her chair. Four handsome subterraneans appeared from somewhere and
"Salme-chan, are you done working already?"
"Let's go have some fun over there."
"I could use a little spending money..."
"Hey, that's all you ever say."
They disappeared into the adjoining room, surrounding the grinning Salme.
"..."
The Marshal took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his uniform, and left the room. The maids waiting in the hallway entered one after another and began cleaning the room. No one spoke to the Marshal, and no one seemed to notice his stained clothes. No—they had noticed and were deliberately ignoring it.
(It wasn't my clothes that were stained, but my pride.)
The Marshal could not even bring himself to sigh.
Salme was taking the fact that the patrol unit had lost far too lightly. No, he had hidden it because he did not want it treated as important, and he was furious that someone had informed Salme of it, but even setting those matters aside, the patrol unit's defeat was a grave incident.
To the subterraneans, this city was a secret base that protected them from outside enemies. If its location were discovered, it would be a matter of life and death. After all, their escape routes were limited.
(That was precisely why I had assigned so many seasoned fighters to the patrol unit...)
Perhaps the city's peace had made them that way, but lazy and disaffected misfits made up most of the subterranean population. Yet the Marshal was proud to have selected the cream of the crop as his own subordinates.
And they had lost.
From what he had heard, they had fought only one opponent.
(Salme must know that much. And yet instead of strengthening the army, she intends to use this defeat for political gain.)
Salme's order to the Marshal was simple: "Go after the council member who proposed sending out the patrol unit."
There were ten members of the council, and the Urume Main House faction was evenly matched with all the others. The other factions were not united, which gave the Urume Main House considerable power, but the situation still did not allow it to act entirely unchecked.
Salme intended to use this incident to weaken the opposing factions, even if only a little.
(Had we really become this inward-looking after several decades away from war...? I had thought the Dragonkin airship would be a welcome stimulus.)
Hanging over the Subterranean City was an abnormally strong "status quo bias"—the feeling that "this is fine as it is."
But the Marshal could not bring himself to believe that everything was fine as it was.
That was why he kept trying new approaches—despite Salme's interference.
"Welcome back, Marshal—whoa, what happened to your uniform?"
"Oh, no. That orc threw another hysterical fit, huh?"
"Stop it. You never know where an orc spy might be lurking."
"You're calling her an orc too."
The orc, of course, was Salme.
The military's headquarters was still staffed late into the night, with subordinates working away. The Marshal had hired people of every age and gender, so long as they were motivated and capable. He felt a sense of relief whenever he came here.
"—Now then, give me today's report. How is the front with the dark elves?"
When the Marshal prompted them for a report, a female soldier nodded.
"Yes. It appears they've secured the locations where Innate Jewels emerge. A direct confrontation seems unavoidable."
"I see..."
The Marshal gritted his teeth.
After all the trial and error he had gone through, he had found what he thought was the answer: the Innate Jewels.
He had discovered a large number of Innate Jewels, which were said to be found only in dungeons.
But then the dark elves had appeared, and sporadic skirmishes had broken out.
Salme did not know about this yet.