The chamber was quiet, lit with an ethereal amber hue from sunlight filtered through finely-cut crystal panes above. The walls bore maps of the continent, sealed documents, and elegant sigils of Nyvaris—newly forged and proudly hung. At the long table, three chairs were filled.
Varvatos, calm and sovereign, sat at the head.
Rimuru, dressed in formal robes edged in silver and obsidian, sat to his right.
King Gazel Dwargo, stalwart and seasoned, sat to his left.
Golden tea steamed from etched porcelain cups, untouched. All three men were leaning forward, their presence heavy with intention.
Varvatos' gaze swept across the room. "Nyvaris is no longer a name hidden in the mist. Its heartbeat is strong, and the world's eyes are already searching for a path in. Rimuru," he looked to his chosen king, "it is time to chart that path."
Gazel shifted slightly. "I'll be honest. When you first named a successor, I had doubts. You said nothing to the world—gave no announcement, no buildup. Just… silence. And then this proclamation. A young king, one unknown to the old courts."
Rimuru didn't flinch. "That's fair. I wasn't chosen for my fame. But I know the burden of responsibility. And I know how to listen—especially to those with experience."
Gazel gave a slight grunt of approval. "Then we'll begin with that."
Before Gazel could speak further, a gentle knock sounded on the door. It opened smoothly to reveal Velzard, the White Ice Dragon, in her elegant humanoid form—poised, regal, her presence cooling the room subtly.
Behind her walked Elmesia, Empress of Sarion and Varvatos' other consort, glowing with poise and mystery, dressed in violet and moon-gold silk.
Velzard's gaze fell on Rimuru, then Gazel. "So the world begins to turn. I see we're just in time."
Elmesia smiled softly, approaching Varvatos and touching his shoulder as she sat beside him. "A quiet kingdom no more."
Gazel straightened. He bowed respectfully to both women. "Lady Velzard. Lady Elmesia. An honor."
Velzard's icy smile curved faintly. "It's good to see you again, King of Steel."
Varvatos leaned forward. "Gazel. Rimuru will begin forming diplomatic ties. You have years of experience in balancing power, trade, and pride. Guide him."
Gazel folded his arms. "You'll face three kinds of leaders: the cautious, the opportunists, and the desperate. Most are watching from the shadows. Many were trying to get through me to reach you—now they'll come knocking again, hoping this new king is more… flexible."
Rimuru chuckled lightly. "So I'm the new doorway."
Gazel smirked. "You are the door. But if you open too easily, they'll walk over you. And if you stay closed, you'll be feared, not trusted. We need balance."
Rimuru nodded, absorbing each word. "Then let's figure out who to talk to first."
Rimuru stood slowly. "Before we move forward with diplomacy… there's someone I want you to meet. Actually—three."
He snapped his fingers lightly.
From the side door, three women entered, each step echoing with impossible grace and overwhelming pressure.
Testarossa: Clad in elegant white and red, her eyes cold, calculated, and absolutely in control.
Ultima: Smiling with veiled mischief, her deep violet gown seeming to drink in the light.
Carrera: Fierce, golden-haired, confident, wearing a sharp black uniform with polished boots.
Rimuru gestured to them proudly.
"Gazel… meet Testarossa, Ultima, and Carrera. The Primordials. They now serve Nyvaris—under me."
For a moment, Gazel said nothing.
Then his eyes widened. "P-Primordials?"
His voice cracked slightly. He stood up slowly, eyes darting from one demoness to the next, then back to Rimuru.
"Wait. Wait. First… Diablo. And now… now you're telling me you have four primordial demons under you?!"
Sweat began to bead at the corner of his forehead.
Ultima giggled softly. "He's cute when he panics."
Carrera smirked, arms crossed. "You should've seen your face."
Testarossa, ever composed, simply said, "We're here to serve Nyvaris. You need not be alarmed—unless you threaten our king."
Gazel turned sharply to Rimuru. "I… don't even know how to react. This is absurd. Do you have any idea how dangerous—how insane—this is?"
Rimuru smiled. "I do. But they're loyal."
Gazel sat down slowly, still slightly pale. "Four Primordials… under one banner. No wonder the nations couldn't reach Nyvaris… they must've felt something."
Varvatos chuckled. "Now you see why I trusted Rimuru. He doesn't just carry power—he attracts it."
Gazel took a long breath, composing himself. "Alright. Then we move carefully. Rimuru, you're not just a rising king—you're a force of nature. That's how the others will see you."
Rimuru nodded. "So where do I start?"
Gazel. "Start with those who matter economically first. Siltrosso—they control textiles and rare woods. Raja—they supply exotic spices and rare herbs. Coleus and Filtwood—they follow trade winds. Capture them, and the merchants across the continent will start coming to you instead of the Western Merchants Guild."
Rimuru nodded. "What about political power?"
Gazel turned serious. "Ruberios is proud. Luminous doesn't form bonds lightly. But she and Hinata attended the festival. That door is ajar."
Velzard added softly, "El Dorado is proud, but Leon understands structure. He may not trust Rimuru yet—but his interest will be piqued by your order."
Elmesia continued, "The Eastern Empire will watch from afar. Rudra respects Varvatos—he will not move against you. But his nobles are restless. Show strength, not subservience."
Varvatos tapped the table. "Avoid prideful states like Falmuth for now. They're unstable, and they resent the rise of powers they cannot control."
Carrera chimed in with a grin, "Want us to handle them?"
"No," Rimuru replied instantly. "Let's win minds, not burn bridges."
Rimuru paced slightly. "So the first move… trade. A show of readiness. Then strength in restraint. And conversations with those who attended the festival—those already intrigued."
Varvatos gave a slow nod. "You're learning already."
Gazel raised his cup and finally took a sip.
"You're not just making allies, Rimuru. You're building a reputation. Every deal you make, every meeting you hold—it'll be written, remembered, echoed. Make it echo with strength."
Rimuru smiled and returned the gesture. "Then let's begin writing."
The sheer weight of what he had just learned—Rimuru commanding four Primordials—still lingered like thunder after a storm. Yet as a king, he composed himself quickly.
Gazel met Rimuru's eyes, firm and resolute now.
"Alright. Then let's set the foundation while the world is still watching us cautiously."
Rimuru tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Gazel stood and walked to the map at the side of the chamber—a finely etched relief of the known continent, with gold and silver threads marking various kingdoms and trade routes. He pointed to three locations in succession:
Raja, nestled along the northern riverbanks, famous for its advanced water purification technologies and rare spices.
Siltrosso, a scholarly republic governed by a council of historians and mages, known for its trade of magical artifacts and rare scrolls.
Filtwood, a small but fertile kingdom with vast plains, abundant in crops and livestock, whose people were famously communal and respectful of strong leadership.
"These three nations," Gazel said, "are the most likely to welcome diplomacy without prejudice or fear. Their interests lie in growth and cooperation—not domination."
Rimuru walked beside him, arms crossed. "You're saying we start with them."
Gazel nodded. "Exactly. I'll reach out to their rulers personally. Set up a summit. You won't have to go door to door." He tapped the edge of Raja's territory. "They've always admired Dwargon. If I vouch for you—they'll listen."
"What would the summit look like?" Rimuru asked, now curious.
"Neutral ground," Gazel replied. "Maybe here in Nyvaris, or in Dwargon, or perhaps in Filtwood—neutral and calm. Each ruler brings an envoy, and we outline the basics—mutual trade, cultural exchange, and the possibility of opening our borders for travel and commerce."
"Opening the doors for citizens…" Rimuru echoed softly.
Varvatos leaned in slightly. "There are benefits to that. If people from Raja, Siltrosso, and Filtwood start visiting or even migrating to Nyvaris, word of mouth will be our greatest weapon. Trust spreads faster among the common folk than among nobles."
Velzard, reclining slightly, added with her cool, crystalline voice, "But be cautious. The more open you are, the more susceptible you become. Spies, opportunists, maybe even saboteurs."
"I'll prepare for that," Rimuru said confidently. "But I want people to see Nyvaris for what it really is. Not some myth. A home."
Elmesia smiled faintly at that. "Spoken like a true ruler."
King Gazel moved back to his seat and placed a sealed scroll on the table.
"This is my personal authorization. Once you give the word, I'll send envoys to Raja, Siltrosso, and Filtwood. We'll schedule the summit for as early as next month."
"Just like that?" Rimuru raised a brow.
"You've got four Primordials, Velzard, Elmesia, and Varvatos backing you," Gazel said with a low laugh. "Trust me—no one's going to say no. Not if they've got sense."
Rimuru chuckled. "I guess I've come a long way."
Testarossa stepped forward elegantly. "Shall we prepare the diplomatic teams, my lord?"
Ultima added, "Shall we wear something…welcoming?"
Carrera smirked. "Or intimidating. Your call."
Rimuru grinned, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "We'll aim for both."