The bunch of smugglers rode off on their horse-drawn carts, glancing back from time to time. Murphy leaned against the gnarled tree, watching them leave, maintaining his aura of mystery until they vanished beyond the horizon.
Back at the dungeon, Murphy was met by a waiting ghost and werewolf. The werewolf laughed, "Your majesty is impressive, handling those humans with ease."
"It's not that I controlled them, it's just their greed. If everyone abided by the law, this wouldn't happen," Murphy knew it was more the influence of money than his own, So he won't feel complacent .
"But, Your Majesty, won't they see through our lies?" the ghost Wirt asked worriedly.
Murphy was full of confidence, "They won't, and they wouldn't dare verify anything. The last high-tier teleportation crystal has convinced them fully. Also, I left them a little present. But let it be known, I only lied about the devil's treasure once. I didn't specifically say that they would find it. How can they call that deception?"
The ghost continued, "But you also said you would protect them from hanging..."
"That's hardly a lie. If we win the war against the humans, I'd have no interest in killing them. If we lose, we'll die together. As for the promise? Who heard it?" Murphy put on a scamp-like expression.
Wirt nodded, "I see, Your Majesty is very clever."
"Wirt, have some of your subordinates help the goblins understand the process of human interaction."
"You've all done well this time, at least in terms of acting; quite a performance."
Hearing these words, the ghost gave an ethereal laughter, "Compared to us, your Majesty's performance is seamless. I heard that humans love theater..."
"Are you comparing His Majesty's feats for the future of our race to the pathetic performances of human comedians?" the werewolf interrupted.
"I apologize profusely, that wasn't my intention," the ghost said, seeming to understand that he had spoken out of turn.
After a few interactions, Murphy thought the ghost and the werewolf made a good team. The werewolf was reliable enough, and the ghost Wirt... was a bit slow, does he still have a brain?
Murphy waved his hand dismissively, saying, "Nevermind, we're all on the same team. Just treat me as a friend."
"But you mentioned humans loving theater. Now that interests me. Send some of your men, disguised as humans, to various parts of the kingdom and bring back some scripts and literary works. If you need any props, feel free to take them from the King's court. I'm curious to see what they like spending their time on."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
---
[...
A soft knock at the door awoke Axt from his sleep, "Master Axt, are you there?" a soft female voice echoed from the other side.
"I am, Winni, what is it?"
In response to the familiar soothing male voice, Winni's anxiety eased somewhat.
"Master Axt, my room is so dark, I can't sleep."
The mahogany door was gently pushed open, and Axt invited the slightly disheveled red-haired Winni into his room.
The room was luxuriously and neatly decorated. Axt moved to light the lamp on the table, but was stopped by a hand.
"No, don't light the lamp, it's okay this way," the young girl mumbled to herself.
"Master Axt, you're leaving tomorrow. I... I'm really scared..." Axt senses a gentle embrace around his waist.
"Don't worry, it's a minor battle with the demons. I'll be back shortly," Axt reassures her while consciously downplaying the scale of the battle.
"You liar!" the young girl sobbed softly.
"Rest assured, I promise...Mmm!"
Only the soft sound of insect chirping remains in the tranquil early summer night.
...]
"Plump."
An elegantly packaged parchment scroll was forcefully snapped shut and chucked aside.
"Boring! Banal! Same old, same old!" Harry Reed tossed the novel that his butler had just bought onto the bookshelf, and jumped off his large bed.
"Demon this, demon that. Even the bloody demon king is dead, yet these frivolous bards and vulgar novelists still narrate the old tales from ninety years ago. Can’t they be a little more imaginative? It's all the same, it's infuriating."
"Butler!" Harry Reed huffed loudly.
Ten seconds later, a tall, older gentleman appeared at the entrance to Harry's bedroom.
"Sir, you called?" He bent over and politely asked, his movements and tone flawless.
"You, you, you. Go to that bookstore where you usually buy books, and that low district bar where those vulgar writers like to drink, and pass the message. If anyone can write a work that steps out of the cliche and manages to entertain this old count, I'll reward them with twenty gold coins. Plus, this offer is indefinitely valid!"
After a rant like this, Harry Reed seemed to have spent all his energy and sank into the worn leather armchair, gasping for breath.
"I refuse to believe that not a single person out of all of them can write something interesting. Off you go."
The old butler bowed and slowly left Harry's bedroom.
Harry Reed, the head of the Reed Estate, great-grandson of the first Count Reed, was still in his late thirties. Thanks to the early death of his parents, the title of Border Guard and the count's position fell onto the young Harry. It has been almost twenty years since.
This Count Reed was yet to know that he had been framed as a smuggler, and was just going on devoting himself to his daily life as usual.
Being a count in the kingdom, Harry Reed knew what was expected of him: to pursue happiness.
Happiness was the only thing he had to seek - feasting, parties, women, and crude literature brought him joy. As for the affairs of his estate, he left them to his butler Seth and his father's trusted advisors. After all, everyone was working for him.
As for the war with the demon race set ten years in the future, Harry saw it as a sham. The demon king has been dead for decades and there had been no reports of a new one. Maybe he could just prance around the frontlines for a bit and return as a marquis; even the West Duke and South Duke would have to rethink before speaking to him then.
On this thought, Harry let out a laugh, followed by a sigh. He had now tasted all the delicacies in the kingdom and seen all the beautiful women. Even the crude texts seemed to have predictable endings. Even if he became a marquis, what else could he do?
"Sigh, such boring days, aren't they? I've heard that royal nobles in the capital only ever do these kinds of things. I wish there was something new to try."
---
At the gates of Castle Reed, a middle-aged adventurer stood gazing at the grand castle. It was as though he has remembered something from a distant past.