The Demon King's Hero Of Light - BestLightNovel.com
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"Shortly after we got here," said Aella, looking at the empty shelves in the room. If they were still here when they got the new library built in her future castle, she might come and get them, too.
"Huh, I would have thought they would be here a while," Bridgette said, patting the bulging bag satisfactorily. "I'm just glad they didn't notice me stealing their books!"
"I think they may have heard you a couple of times, but thought you were a rat chewing on one of the books," said Aella, thinking about how happy Frank and Louie were when she dropped off the bodies.
"Now that I think about it, I do recall one of them shouting about something. They must have been arguing again."
"I think they were talking about needing a vacation," laughed Aella. "I already had one of those, and I really have too much to get done for another one."
"A vacation? Those guys need to get their acts together and start cleaning up the mess they've left all over the place. Whatever; I need to get these books back so I can start going through them. Rats in the library… honestly! I made sure there were spells in place to keep vermin like that out!" grumbled Bridgette as she looped an arm through Aella's and they teleported back to the library.
Leaving her crooning over the bag of books, Aella teleported back to the throne room. She had a few hours before everyone should start showing up, and the bag of chickens still needed to get taken to the people in charge of the soup kitchens. Leaving the throne room, Aella headed for the entrance. All of the workers should be heading out, getting ready to start their days. Eyeing a few lingering in the main hall by the entrance she approached them, hiding her crown so they wouldn't know who she was.
"Could you tell me where the soup kitchens are?" she asked them.
They eyed her distastefully and one said, "You must be one of those humans we heard the king was keeping around like pets. What do you want with the soup kitchens? Don't you get to eat from the king's own table?"
Pausing for a moment as she tried to decide how to respond, the second demon spoke up.
"You can find the soup kitchens all along the main roads, but good luck finding anything edible. I heard they were throwing rats into the soup pot to make up for not having meat."
Aella turned without another word and headed outside. These demons were tempting to kill but it wasn't worth the effort. She was sure if they knew she was their king they would have been falling all over themselves trying to kiss her boots.
The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, and the streets were already thronging with people heading out to work.
"Excuse me, do you have a job?" asked one demon, holding up a hand and stopping her as she looked around.
"Yes?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Good, because if you don't the king's going to throw you in the slave pits by the end of the day!" he threatened before turning away.
"Wait, what slave pits?" she asked, grabbing his arm.
He turned back with a smirk. "You haven't heard? The king's getting a fighting pit started up and is going to be throwing all the demons she doesn't like into it."
"Where did you hear that?" she asked, shaking her head at the stupidity of it.
"It's being spread all over the city by town criers. Everyone has to have a job by the end of the day, or the king's going to a.s.sign them one. The fighting pits have gotten so popular, it's become common knowledge the king's looking to expand it."
"Where are these fight pits?" she asked, trying to feign interest.
"You're interested?" he asked, laughing while he glanced at her small frame. "You wouldn't last 30 seconds in the pits."
"What do I win if I do?" she asked, her anger flaring up. She had survived in those d.a.m.n pits for years! Who the h.e.l.l was starting something like this back up?!
"Don't bother with this one," said a demon behind her.
Aella turned about to snap at the person, but stopped short when she saw it was Firion.
"Really? But she looked like she would be perfect bait!" claimed the demon she had been talking to.
"You questioning me?" Firion asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Right," the demon mumbled, turning and leaving quickly.
"Firion, what the h.e.l.l is going on?" Aella asked, putting her hands on her hips.
"Well, Aella, I would ask you the same. It's not everyday the king goes for an unannounced walk through the city streets," he replied, chuckling at her scowl.
"I was looking to check on the soup kitchens," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes in annoyance. "Are you running a fighting pit?"
"Not really," he said, motioning for her to follow him as he turned down an alley next to the palace. "The people in your city are struggling with some of the rules you've placed on them. They're used to violence, and it's all but gone."
"What do you mean? I thought they would be happy with no violence."
"Well, they are… kind of," he mused. "I found that if they had an outlet for their violence, the crime dropped drastically."
"Firion, I don't have time for word games," she growled.
"Let me show you," he said, opening a door and motioning for her to enter.
Aella wasn't afraid of him trying to kill her, or trap her, so she stepped inside. The sounds of distant cheers could be heard.
"I was going to tell you about it, but then you disappeared right before the week of s.e.x in The Streets, happened. It was great fun, but a lot didn't get done during that time. Best holiday in the history of our kingdom, I believe."
"Then, tell me now," she said, a ping of guilt curbing her anger a little.
"I was finding that a lot of the people getting killed for committing crimes, were young and poor. Since you didn't like losing so many people, and were worried about the future of our race, I decided to try a theory I had, and it surprisingly worked. I present the Fight Pits," Firion exclaimed, throwing open the next door, and moving aside for her to step into the crowded room.
It reminded her of when she was fighting her matches with the other contestants for the role of king. In fact, as she looked around, she was pretty sure it was the same place. Most of the seats in the place were filled with cheering and screaming demons, who were watching two demons fight down in the pits. She could only watch it for a few moments, before she turned and walked back into the halls. Firion followed her, pulling the door shut.
"Tell me how it works," she said, keeping her back to him and the door.
"Those who fight are completely voluntary. They get paid whether they win or not, but the winner gets far more, unless they give up in the first 5 seconds. Everyone who goes in to watch has the opportunity to buy snacks for a fee, or can bid on their favorite fighters."
"Who profits from this?"
"Why, you do, Your Majesty. All of the funds collected by this establishment go into your general fund, and is used to pay your workers, minus the winnings handed out to the fighters after each fight, of course. And there are several plants to help improve the bidding, of which you get a percentage of as well."
"Firion, you know my feelings on things of this nature," she growled.
"Ah, but you were forced from a young child to fight. None of these fighters are being forced. Children aren't allowed to partic.i.p.ate in any actual fighting, and the fights don't happen during the day, when most of the demons should be working at their normal jobs. I was actually going to ask you about building a new formal arena for such things when you got back. I can see this being hugely popular."
"Did you get that list of n.o.bles for me?" she asked, rubbing her head where a headache should have been pounding.
"Of course, but you had wanted it after you ate breakfast," he said with a grin.
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"I need to see who's in charge of the kitchens. Why don't you take me there, while I try to decide if you need to be punished for this or not."
"Me? Punished?" he laughed a short sharp bark, then shook his head. "Oh no, Your Majesty. You can't punish me for this. If I didn't give these people an outlet for their aggression, they would be dead from one of the a.s.sa.s.sins killing them, when they broke your rules."
She frowned at him, because what he said seemed plausible, yet she knew that some of those contestants weren't as voluntary as he made them out to be. Some of them felt trapped in one way or another, and only fought because they felt there was no other options.