How a Realist Hero Rebuilt the Kingdom: Volume 1

The song was Masashi Sada’s “Ganbaranba.” This cheerful song, which had even had a Minna no Uta short made for it, was distinctive for using rap in Nagasaki dialect mixed with the Kyushu children’s song “Denderaryuba.” Grandpa was a fan, so I had listened to it with him together a lot.

Still, I was impressed with this lorelei. She was even managing to sing the rap parts in Nagasaki dialect. These were completely incomprehensible to people from the Kanto region, but she sung them flawlessly.

By the way, Liscia told me later that she couldn’t understand the lyrics. I could understand the language people in this country speak, and they could understand my Japanese, but it seemed that was part of my power as a hero. I could even write in the world’s language. What I tried to write in my head got translated into the language here, so even though I couldn’t read it afterward, I could write it.

So, the Japanese (in Nagasaki dialect) that came out of Juna’s mouth was in an unknown language for the people of this country. Still, even without knowing the words, if a song is good, you can still get into it. Everyone listened to that catchy tune and enjoyed it.

A few minutes later, amidst roaring applause, Juna finished her song and bowed.

“That was a fun song. Thank you.”

“No, I should thank you,” I said. “Your singing was wonderful.”

“If possible, I hope you will teach me more of the songs of your country, Your Majesty.”

“I’d very much like to have you sing them…Oh, I know! Hopefully we can increase the number of jewels, but even if that’s not possible, we could eventually convert the Jewel Voice Room into a recording studio so that the people can hear your songs all the time.”

“My! That would be like a dream come true, sire.” Juna wore a smile of heartfelt bliss. It was a marvelous smile.

“I’ll be counting on you when the time comes,” I said. “You did a great job today.”

Juna stepped back, and now it was the fox-eared little girl’s turn.

“Next, Madam Tomoe Inui of the mystic wolf race, step forward.”

“Y-Yesh!”

Her voice breaking, the young girl with animal ears who looked to be around ten stepped forward with her right arm moving at the same time as her right leg.

The mystic wolf race… I thought. I guess those aren’t fox ears, they’re wolf ears.

She was adorable with her suntanned skin and cute little round eyes. The clothes she wore were just a little shabby, though. They were torn in places and, perhaps because she was tense, the fluffy tail that stuck out from her rump was standing up straight.

Yup, I want to stroke it.

“Young though she may be, this one has the exceptionally rare gift of being able to talk to birds and beasts. When we brought her to the stables, she was able to correctly tell us everything from the horses’ current state of health to their history. According to her, the horses told her these things. Truly, it is a godly ability.”

The gift of talking to animals, huh? Looks like we have an astonishing little beastman on our hands here.

As I thought about it, next to me Liscia quietly whispered, “The country of the mystic wolves is far to the north. There shouldn’t be any in this country.”

“…A refugee, huh,” I murmured. Ah, that would explain the beat up clothes then, wouldn’t it?

With the expansion of the Demon Lord’s Domain, a number of countries and villages had been destroyed. Those who had lost their lands had fled south, becoming refugees in other nations, and they were starting to put pressure on the economy. Different nations dealt with them in different ways. Some proactively took them in, while others moved to expel them. Though, that said, even when it came to the countries taking them in, most either forced them into hard labor such as mining or sent them out as additional manpower to fight against the demons, so both types of country were hell for the refugees.

Even in my kingdom, refugee camps had sprung up outside the capital Parnam. At the moment, the decision on what to do with them was still “on hold.” If we helped the refugees when we didn’t even have enough food to feed our own people, riots might well break out. If we expelled them or forced them into hard labor, we would have to deal with the refugees’ resentment. If they went into hiding and turned terrorist on us, that would be terrible. As things stood, they were causing a decline in public safety, but we had no choice but to maintain the status quo.

In order to offer a helping hand to others, we need to be in a good place to help ourselves first, I thought.