Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 572

Ellen had never considered that her small, cute cat might be seen as food by others.

She wasn’t unaware of the hunger issues in the refugee camp, but it was likely that Ellen had never actually set foot in there herself.

Since the beginning of the Gate Incident, Ellen had been repeatedly deployed and returned to the battlefield via mass teleportation. As a result, she spent very little time in the capital.

In her current capacity serving with the Allied Forces, she also had very little opportunity to see the situation in the capital with her own eyes, even though she might know a thing or two about it. It just couldn’t be helped.

Judging by her expression, it was clear that it was her first time actually entering the refugee camp area.

She had seen for the first time that day the sight of adults and children starving, of corpses left out in the streets not because they had been killed by monsters, but because they had died of hunger.

She was not shocked just because I had almost become cat soup; seeing with her own eyes what she knew in her head had been overwhelming.

After putting me on the bed, Ellen just stood there for a long time, staring blankly at nothing, lost in thought.

“I’ll go alone,” she finally said, gently patting my head before leaving the room.

The issue wasn’t whether she could snipe monsters from a distance. The refugee camp area was just not a place to bring pets.

Unlike Ellen, I had seen the situation in the refugee camp firsthand previously, but things seemed to have worsened since then.

The rations available for the refugees had likely decreased because of the need to feed the army, so hunger was bound to have intensified.

I occasionally saw people who looked genuinely sick, which made it likely that there was some sort of outbreak. Hunger was not the only problem.

This moment was when the Divine Power of the God of Purity, Ouen, was needed most, but the refugees still harbored extreme hatred for the Ouen and Alse orders, and so the priests were probably unable to go about their duties properly.

I saw how people vanished at the mere sight of a guard’s silhouette, and how the guards themselves scanned their surroundings with wary, grim eyes. It wasn’t hard to guess why people had developed a pathological fear of the guards. It was likely because the guards, placed in situations beyond their control, often resorted to extreme measures.

The root of it all was the lack of food. And to make matters worse, it was winter. As a result, countless people would die of starvation, cold, or illness.

The densely populated capital had a population exceeding 100 million.

During the winter, the number of people dying from starvation or freezing in the capital would easily surpass tens of millions.

In the Battle of Serandia, about twenty thousand people had died. The time would come when that number would be considered merely twenty thousand.

It was a tragic and hopeless situation, but it wasn’t something I could solve.

The population of the capital alone was ten times that of the entire Edina Archipelago. Although Edina’s food production and distribution systems were much better than the capital’s, food still wasn’t excessively abundant.

Even if there was surplus food, there was no way to transport it to the capital to feed tens of millions of refugees.

I couldn’t solve the issue of hunger.

Jesus was said to have fed thousands with five loaves and two fish, but I was not Jesus, and such a feat was beyond me.

What I couldn’t do was not my concern.

What I could do, or at least attempt to do, was to bring this whole Gate Incident to a conclusion.

The rest would have to be considered then.

***

Of Heinrich and Ellen, who had gone on patrol, Heinrich was the first to return to the dormitory. It was expected, since Ellen had had to return to the Temple once before heading out again.

Meow.

“Hmm?”

He inclined his head when he saw me wandering around without Ellen.

“She seemed like she was going to take you along...”

Heinrich didn’t seem injured. There weren’t that many monsters near the capital, and those that were wouldn’t pose a threat to Heinrich.

If an orc appeared on the outskirts of the capital and started rampaging, dozens of refugees would die easily, but Heinrich could handle that orc with a mere gesture.

The real issue wasn’t the monsters themselves, but whether there was someone capable of stopping them.

In truth, in the outskirts, any monster was a serious threat.

Heinrich looked out the window, arms crossed, and let out a long sigh.

To patrol the outskirts, he would have had to enter the refugee area, and he would have seen exactly what Ellen had seen as well. His expression was understandable.

About two hours passed, and it was only at dinner time when Ellen finally returned to the dormitory.

Although I expected her to return safely, I couldn’t help but feel relieved after seeing her.

Other students were present in the dining hall during dinner time, but among the second-year students, only Ellen, Heinrich, Ludwig, and Dettomorian were there.

The three researchers rarely returned from the lab.

Ellen looked unwell after the day’s events, and Heinrich also looked unwell, having seen the same sights as Ellen.

Dettomorian, as usual, looked unwell by default.

Ludwig, who had been working with the guards, might have witnessed even worse things, or even done things he didn’t want to think about. Naturally, his expression was grim.

The four of them began dinner, each looking weighed down, which made me feel uneasy.

Ellen hesitated as she tried to put some scrambled eggs onto my plate.

“...”

A fleeting look of guilt crossed her face. It was as if she was realizing how indulgent it was to keep a pet in a world rife with hunger.

I fully expected Ellen to have such thoughts.

She looked down at me, on the verge of tears.

In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to let me starve and carefully scooped some scrambled eggs onto my plate as she gently patted my head.

It was as if she were saying that I had done nothing wrong.

Ellen did not eat as voraciously as she had when she first returned. If she was feeling guilty about feeding me, then she naturally felt guilty about eating herself.

She knew that eating well and having a good rest was the right thing to do, and that she was doing it for others, but the food just did not go down well.

“How was your patrol? I couldn’t cover the whole area because it was too vast,” Heinrich said.

“I didn’t run into any issues since I didn’t go too far. How about you?”

“Same. I felt a bit empty for not being able to do anything, but I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them had gone to make sure the outskirts of the capital remained secure.

If they had had to slay monsters, that wouldn’t be something to celebrate because it would mean the outskirts were in danger. In that sense, it was better for them to return with nothing to report.

“It seems we weren’t the only ones thinking along those lines,” Heinrich said, and Ellen inclined her head in curiosity.

“Since the Allied Forces have overwhelming manpower, it looks like the Empire is focusing on securing the capital’s surroundings for the winter. They’ve deployed a large-scale extermination squad,” Heinrich explained.

“That’s a relief.”

Of course, if Ellen and Heinrich could think of it, the Empire surely had as well. They couldn’t save people from starvation, but they were doing what they could—clearing out monsters around the capital to reduce any threat.

It seemed Ellen and Heinrich had considered volunteering for the extermination squad patrolling the outskirts, but in the end, Ellen shook her head, deciding that it wasn’t feasible.

Vertus wanted Ellen to rest this winter, so volunteering for the extermination squad would obviously not be allowed.

Heinrich, for similar reasons, wouldn’t be able to participate in the extermination squad, which was why they were moving independently.

After all, having more hands wouldn’t hurt.

If dangerous monsters were roaming around, they would be exterminated, and if not, it meant the capital was safe, so it couldn’t be a bad thing.

Both seemed to be planning to go further out the next day.

‘Couldn’t you both just... take a break for once?’

Heinrich clicked his tongue briefly.

“The problem is food,” he said.

The biggest issue facing the refugees wasn’t monster attacks; it was hunger.

A monster appearing in the refugee camp could kill dozens or hundreds of people in an instant, but hunger would slowly kill millions.

Everyone knew what the real enemy was. However, what couldn’t be killed could not be destroyed. Monsters could be killed, but there was no known way to kill hunger.

Ludwig sat in that heavy silence, struggling to eat, his spoon clinking about as he maneuvered it with his left hand.

***

With the Allied Forces taking a break over the winter, King Konstantin von Schwartz of Kernstadt arrived for an inspection. However, the king was not so concerned about the inspection, but the whereabouts of the two missing princes.

Louise didn’t think she could deceive her father.

The disappearance of the two princes was a suspicious matter, even among other close aides.

King Konstantin von Schwartz of Kernstadt had been informed of the disappearance of the two princes long ago. He had to have analyzed the incident in his own way and deduced the truth.

Of the royal family of Schwartz, only Louise and Heinrich remained alive. She could fully anticipate what her father might suspect.

Louise did not prepare any excuses since she knew they wouldn’t work.

She wouldn’t say something like “It was unavoidable,” or offer any other flimsy rationalizations.

There was no justifying her actions, so she offered the truth directly.

“I killed them.”

She confessed the truth to her father. He wanted to find out the truth about the disappearance of the two younger brothers, and the truth was that she had killed them with her own two hands.

She said nothing more.

Louise was not a talkative person by nature.

Her father neither rebuked her, chastised her, nor displayed any shock or fear.

After looking at his eldest daughter’s face for a long time, Konstantin von Schwartz said, “Do you have anything more to say?”

An apology.

An excuse.

Tears.

Sadness.

Guilt.

He was asking if she wanted to make any appeals or offer any angry outbursts.

Louise shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Both father and daughter were similarly taciturn.

“I see.”

Just as the daughter hid many thoughts in her silence, the father must have hid many thoughts in his silence.

Father and daughter only spoke when necessary, just like Heinrich was with Louise.

“Where is Heinrich?”

“I sent him back to the Temple for a while.”

Her father would fully understand what that meant. He would know that Louise had sent her “brother” away to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Konstantin von Schwartz said nothing about his eldest daughter’s killing of her two brothers, nor did she offer any excuses for her actions.

Only they knew what they were truly thinking.

There are relationships where silence means understanding, and others where silence breeds misunderstanding. This father-daughter relationship belonged to the latter.

“Four princes have died because of Heinrich.”

Two had died at the hands of the son, Heinrich, and two at the hands of the mother, Louise.

Four princes had had to die for Heinrich von Schwartz alone. It was a sharp rebuke.

“If they hadn’t laid a hand on my son, they wouldn’t have died,” Louise replied calmly.

It was a sharp answer to a sharp remark.

The two princes who had tormented the young Heinrich had been burned to death by him when his supernatural powers had awakened.

The other two brothers who had tried to assassinate him had been killed by Louise.

The issue at hand was about whether or not to leave Heinrich alone.

A few sharp words could escalate into a bitter exchange, and in the heat of it, something might be said that could never be taken back.

But Louise had already made up her mind.

No matter what was said, she would protect her son.

She faced the silent king head-on, her eyes unwavering.

“I thought it would happen sooner.”

“Pardon?”

Louise was uncharacteristically taken aback by Konstantin von Schwartz’s words.

“I thought it would happen sooner.”

“...”

“I thought you would take action against your brothers sooner.”

Louise had no idea her father would think that way.

It seemed Konstantin von Schwartz had considered this inevitable.

Children don’t truly know their parents. Parents don’t truly know their children either, but they tend to understand them a little better.

Konstantin von Schwartz knew the folly of his sons, but he also knew the depth of his daughter’s love for her son.

And so, he had accepted that what had happened had always been bound to happen.

He couldn’t call it natural, but he had no choice but to see it as inevitable.

“You were either less wise than I believed, or you trusted your brothers more than I thought.”

Even without Louise explaining, Konstantin von Schwartz could piece together what must have happened while the Kernstadt military was operating with the Allied Forces.

He had always anticipated that something like that was bound to happen eventually. It had simply occurred a little later than expected.

The power of the children.

Their jealousy and envy.

Their recklessness.

And Louise’s guilt and her love for her son.

All of it made such an outcome inevitable. But whether due to misplaced trust or naiveté, Louise had delayed it.

That, too, he now understood.

“Did you love your brothers?” he asked.

Louise couldn’t answer.

She couldn’t say she loved them or didn’t love them. She couldn’t say anything.

She couldn’t bring herself to say that, although she loved them, they had tried to harm the son she loved more, and so she had been forced to make a choice. She couldn’t bring herself to say that.

All she could do was cry, her tears stemming from an indescribable sadness, self-loathing, and guilt. She cried and cried, but no sound came out of her.

As he saw his daughter unable to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks—tears she couldn’t shed in front of her son, but now let fall in front of her father—he finally spoke.

“Alright. If that’s how it is... then that’s enough.”

He couldn’t forgive the daughter who had killed her own brothers, but he could no longer deny the inevitability of it.

***

Since the king had visited on the pretext of conducting an inspection, whatever his true motives had been, Louise assisted the king in inspecting the Kernstadt army.

They discussed the state of the army, its strength, and the supply situation thoroughly.

After all the inspections were completed and reports considered, Konstantin von Schwartz said the same thing to Louise that she had said to Heinrich.

“Go and get some rest.”

“Sorry?”

“I will take command of the army during the winter.”

Just as Louise had ordered her son to rest, thinking of the depth of his fatigue, her father was also ordering his daughter to rest, thinking about her own tiredness.

“I’ll secure the emperor’s permission. Spend the winter at the Temple with Heinrich—just as you’ve always wanted.”

An unexpected rest... She was being ordered to visit the very place she had longed to see, even in her dreams.

She was being ordered to spend the winter with her son, to rest by his side.

Now, at last, she would be able to step into the place where her son had lived and grown up—a place she had never been allowed to even glimpse from afar.

Upon hearing of the princes’ disappearance, the king had accepted the implications of it, and resigned himself to endure what he had to.

He had always known that such a thing might happen one day. After all, being a king was cruel.

He had been forced to a blind eye to the possibility that his daughter might one day do such a thing, because she was the one destined to rule after him. What mattered was the survival of the heir to the throne, not the others.

Now that the possibility had become reality, he believed his duty was to manage whatever remained. If certain outcomes were inevitable, then perhaps there was no reason for those left behind to continue suffering.

The king’s actions were not born of understanding, but of resignation.

And because Louise knew that, her guilt only deepened.