The Archetype | Rimuru Tempest x TBATE

"Wait, what do you think it is that I do?"

I asked Arthur Leywin as he sat across me in a table of the Bitter & Sweet Café. He stared at me with confusion for a moment before he took a sip of his coffee. The dim light of the evening Monday pierced through the curtains of the modest establishment, and the low chatters of the other customers faded into the background.

"Well, I assumed being the Grand Marshal meant that you're practically leading the war. That's how I understood it, at least."

I looked at him for a moment, wondering if it was me who understood things wrong.

"That's the council's job, isn't it? I'm just their representative."

"What about the Lances? I thought they were the council's representative."

"They are," I replied, setting my coffee down and folding my hands on the table. "But they're generals, Arthur. They carry out the council's directives on the battlefield. As for me…" I trailed off, searching for the right words.

Explaining my position wasn't exactly straightforward, especially since it straddled so many lines. Finally, I settled on a somewhat imperfect analogy. "I guess you could call me a de facto insurance policy. If the council governs and the Lances lead, I'm the one who ensures the two sides work together—and fill in any gaps."

"Oh…" Arthur woahed in surprise. "So that means you're free to do as you please as long as it's for Dicathen? You can take on any role?"

"Precisely," I replied, nodding. "Also, while the lances are subordinate to the council's directives, I operate independently on decision-making. They can tell me suggestions, of course, but it is ultimately up to me whether to act upon them or not."

"That's awfully convenient. You're basically a free agent."

"I know, right? That's why I bargained for the autonomy as much as I could. No point in being something fancy like the Grand Marshal if I'm just another cog in the machine. Might as well just make the Lances seven and call it a day."

Arthur paused, massaging his bond Sylvie's head as she ate the cookie on his plate. "How're you holding up on it, though? I mean, so far."

I picked up the mug in the table and inhaled the warm aroma of my coffee, before taking a deliberate sip. "The war hasn't even started, but the council's already pressuring me. Well, it makes sense since if I mess up, there's no one else to blame."

"Still, you get to skip all the bureaucracy and focus on what actually matters. Must be nice."

I gave a small laugh, shaking my head. "You say that like it's all sunshine and rainbows. But, well, yeah, it's better than being micromanaged. Maybe I just don't like being ordered around?"

He chuckled, clinking his cup lightly against mine. "Fair enough. Here's to keeping everyone on their toes."

We clinked our cups together lightly, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie before the conversation shifted to more casual topics. Arthur told me about his life at Xyrus Academy—his classes, his training, and some of the more amusing antics of his Disciplinary Committee life.

In turn, he asked if I was still dabbling in adventurer work. The truth was, I hadn't been as proactive with missions lately as my focus was divided between my responsibilities and trying to make sense of the council's ever-shifting priorities.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, Arthur mentioned something that caught my attention. "I've got a class trip tomorrow," he said, stroking Sylvie's head absentmindedly as she curled up on his shoulder. "We're heading to a dungeon called Widow's Crypt. Ever heard of it?"

The name sparked a distant memory in me. "I feel like I heard of it, but never been there myself. What's the occasion?"

"Part of our Team Fighting Mechanics subject," he explained. "It's supposed to be a controlled environment."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Uh-huh. Let's hope it stays that way. Dungeons have a way of surprising you when you least expect it."

Arthur smirked. "Is that your way of telling me to be careful?"

"Consider it friendly advice," I said with a grin. "Just don't get too cocky, Arthur. You never know."

"Coming from you, that's rich," he teased.

"Hey, it's fine if it's me. I'm allowed to be cocky. I've earned it."

"Sure you have," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.

Something tugged at my guts as we discussed Arthur's field trip. Something I can't quite grasp as of yet. And I couldn't shake it—the nagging feeling that this trip might turn out to be more than just another school excursion.

———

"The war is just a pretext for a game between gods, Grand Marshal."

Director Cynthia's unsettling words snapped me out of my musing as Arthur bid me farewell. I waved my hand with a smile and turned around to move up the neighborhood to my villa. The streets were unusually deserted. There were people, yes, but not as much as I was used to seeing. Not to mention, it was still early—barely six in the evening when I checked my watch.

The sun hadn't even fully set yet. Perhaps it was the lingering tension from the recent council decisions or rumors of skirmishes at the Beast Glades. Whatever the reason, the city felt subdued. I kept walking, lost in thought as I made my way to my villa. It wasn't far, just a few blocks up, but somehow, it felt longer today.

…

By the time I reached the villa, the last of the sunlight had slipped away, leaving a cool dusk in its wake. The door creaked as I pushed it open, stepping into the familiar quiet. Inside, it was just as I left it—silent, still, and kind of empty. A place built for comfort, but somehow—despite my best attempts to tell myself otherwise—it always felt a little too big for just me.

I tossed my jacket onto the chair by the door and kicked off my shoes, letting my feet sink into the cold marble floor.

I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filled it with something strong, and took a sip, letting the burn settle in my chest. Outside, the faint hum of the city barely reached my ears. It was like everything had slowed down, waiting for something. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

"Someone's been here."

I whispered to myself, taking another strong sip. I put down the glass. Nothing had changed. Not a single thing. Everything was exactly as I had left it this morning. The chairs, the decorations, even the way the curtains hung—everything was in place.

Yet, that nagging feeling was there, and it wouldn't go away. I didn't need to see physical signs. I could feel it. Even Raphael agreed with me. It wasn't much—nothing out of place, no footprints in the dust, no fingerprints on the glass. But again, I could tell.

I walked through the house, checking everything out of habit. The study with its cluttered desk, the guest room where the bed was still perfectly made. The kitchen, untouched. Even the modifications that Vincent Helstea had installed back when I bought the villa—the workshop, fortified library, and secure underground space.

No signs of disturbance. No sign of forced entry.

"They're good, aren't they?"

I paused in the living room, by the window, staring out into the night. The city was still, the lights flickering softly in the distance. No movement outside. The house was empty, just like it should be. I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. Nothing changed. Nothing was broken. Nothing was disturbed.

"Well, nothing I can do about it." I shrugged. The feeling still sat in my chest, but it was pointless to dwell on it.

I poured another drink and took a seat by the window, letting the familiar silence wash over me. The world kept turning outside, and inside, it was just as still as it had always been. Whatever had happened, it didn't matter now.

It's my damn house. And bastards just can't leave me alone.

Should I get myself a guard dog?

◇◇◇

The days passed by in a blur. One after another, I found myself regretting ever taking on the role of a Grand Marshal. What had seemed like an opportunity to make a difference was turning into a test of patience and diplomacy I wasn't sure I wanted to pass.

"We must send the Lances to the east!"

"Are you crazy!? Because of a rumor!?"

"What are you talking about?! We need to eliminate every threat at every opportunity! Or would you rather gamble the safety of Dicathen?"

"We don't even know if the threat is real! Acting recklessly will only weaken us!"

Sitting here in a round table along with the Council and the Lances, stirring the juice handed to me, I couldn't help but grimace at the sight of such an uncooperative, self-centered bunch. I made a point that I was just going to listen in the meeting this time, but I fear that my ears would've bled had I been a human.

I gotta hand it to them, though, I thought as I took another sip of juice, letting my gaze drift to the Lances standing to the side. Their expressions ranged from impassive to mildly annoyed, but none of them intervened. I had to give them credit for their discipline, even if I wasn't feeling particularly disciplined myself. 

King Glayder noticed the nonchalance at which I sipped a glass of juice, and I figured that put him off. Though, why's it my problem?

"Grand Marshal," he said, his tone pointed as his eyes locked onto me. "Your input would be much appreciated. Your presence here is not just for quietly sipping beverages!"

I raised an eyebrow. Why's he so mad? Juice is good, isn't it? I set down the glass on the table. If he just drank some maybe he'd cool off.

"How'd you expect me to 'give my input' when all you've been doing is circling back baseless arguments and petty insults?" I said without hesitation. Virion, probably the only reasonable one among them, had his eyes closed as he listened closely.

King Glayder's glare could've melted steel, but I didn't budge. He was unable to rebuke my remark. The others didn't look much happier, but I wasn't here to make friends.

Finally, I broke the silence. "I'll go."

Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to me. The confusion was almost palpable.

"What?" I asked, genuinely puzzled by their reaction.

"Alone?" Queen Glayder asked.

"Is that a problem?"

"If you think you can handle it, go," King Greysunders sneered, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression. "At least you'll finally have the chance to prove you're not just here for show."

Ah, still holding a grudge, I see. Ever since I'd accidentally scared him half to death, he'd made it his mission to undermine me at every opportunity. Why someone like him was entrusted with leadership was beyond my wildest imaginations.

Varay, the ever-composed and mightiest Lance, stepped forward slightly. "I can accompany you."

"There's no need," I replied, rising from my seat. "Besides," I added, addressing the council members, "if my absence gives you even an hour of peace, I'd say it's worth it."

"You have no idea of the burden we've been—" Queen Greysunders began, but I cut her off with a casual wave of my hand.

"Right, right, you've all had it rough. I get it. No need to get so defensive."

My gaze shifted to Virion, who had finally opened his eyes to look at me. "I'll excuse myself then, Commander."

"Approved," he said with a slight nod.

Without another word, I turned and left the room. The heavy doors closed behind me with a resounding thud, and the muffled arguing resumed almost immediately. Stepping into the quiet corridor, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. The air was cooler, fresher, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I could breathe.

The so-called threat awaited, and if nothing else, it promised to be far less frustrating than dealing with the Council. For better or worse, this was a problem I could tackle on my own terms.

Walking down the stone corridor, I mulled over the briefing Lance Olfred had given earlier. A low-ranked soldier patrolling near Ashber Town had reported seeing something "terrifying." Tall, horned, and menacing were the exact words used. Not exactly the most detailed description, and yet somehow it was enough to send the Council into a frenzy.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

Of course, something vague and unverified would spark this level of panic. And of course, it would fall on me to volunteer in cleaning up the mess. I can't help but think I'm hovering above my paycheck here.

The Lances themselves had dismissed it as unlikely to be anything substantial, and frankly, I was inclined to agree. Still, the Council had all but demanded action, and here I was, saddled with the task of "investigating."

The corridor opened up to a balcony overlooking the sprawling forest below, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the view. Looking from up here, every problem seemed distant and insignificant.

But then again, that's what they say about me, isn't it? Distant and detached. Maybe they weren't entirely wrong. After all, it was hard to take their concerns seriously when they so often acted like children squabbling over toys.

Of course, as much as I doubted the soldier's account, I'd seen enough in my life to know that truth could sometimes be stranger—and more dangerous—than fiction. The descriptions sounded like the setup to a bad horror story, but if it turned out to be more than that, I'd just take care of it.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Horned and menacing," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. "That's what I'm working with?"

I expanded my magical flaming wings and took off into the sky.