I was a civil official in the service of the Demon Kingdom.
I usually spent my days working alongside my colleagues at an office in the Royal Capital. My position was... well, neither particularly high nor especially low. Perhaps you could call me a middle manager? No, that makes it sound a bit too grand. Let’s go with "assistant to a middle manager." That more accurately reflected the reality of my daily duties. In any case, it meant I held a reasonable degree of responsibility and did my job well enough.
One day during the winter, a new assignment landed on my desk.
It was a request to organize a parade. Apparently, it was the personal wish of the Demon King himself, and the paperwork was marked with the tag "Highest Priority." Immediately, sixty of my colleagues—myself included—were summoned.
This was a massive mobilization.
None of the Demon Kingdom's civil officials were so idle that they were just sitting around waiting for new work. Everyone already had their hands full. Gathering sixty people at once was practically unheard of. I checked with a colleague who, while not my direct superior, often gave me instructions, and the facts he revealed were utterly soul-crushing.
First, the preparation period was short. It was catastrophically, impossibly short. Even though it was currently winter, the event had to be held in the spring. It was the kind of timeline that justified screaming "impossible" at the top of one's lungs. If we were going to hold a parade in the Royal Capital, we would normally want at least six months to prepare. A full year would have been ideal.
Furthermore, "spring" was only a vague target; the exact dates hadn't even been set. Specifically, it was supposed to happen "once the spring planting was finished." That isn't a date; it's a window. I honestly began to wonder if they were serious about holding it at all, but then an internal notice arrived from Internal Affairs Minister Randan, urging us to hold the event as promptly as possible. It seemed they were quite serious indeed.
Next was the issue of the route. While the exact path hadn't been finalized, the Demon King intended to involve not just the capital, but all the towns and villages connected to it via Teleportation Gates. While the gates meant the actual travel distance was short, managing traffic through multiple portals that only allowed a few people at a time was a logistical nightmare. Moreover, the gates would have to be closed to the public during the parade. This meant all trade and distribution would grind to a halt before and after the event. If we didn't plan for that, it would trigger total chaos.
To make matters worse, there were multiple factions scheduled to participate. If it were a simple military parade, it wouldn't be as much of a problem, as soldiers are already used to being managed in large groups. But this was different. They were gathering participants from common villages and towns. This was the kind of event you spend years planning, not something you throw together between winter and spring.
The situation was hopeless. But don't worry—there was a glimmer of hope. Or so I thought.
Apparently, one of my colleagues had appealed directly to the Demon King, begging him not to make such unreasonable demands. We hoped for a significant extension, but... wait, the current schedule was the result of that extension?
Just after noon that day, nearly all sixty of us submitted our resignations. Our boss rejected every single one with a bright smile.
Since despair wasn't going to get the job done, we got to work. We rented a large facility for a general meeting to confirm the workload and divide the responsibilities. The "Parade Executive Committee" was officially formed. Without regard for our usual titles or social standing, three people were chosen as the leader and sub-leaders based solely on their competence.
Those three tried to make a break for it immediately, but the rest of us managed to tackle them. It was a close thing. One of them actually started casting magic; we were lucky the building only suffered a minor fire instead of burning to the ground. Another managed to flee outside the capital walls, but he was pinned down by a magic beast, allowing us to catch up and drag him back. The man was clearly cursed with bad luck—though I suppose anyone assigned to lead this project was unlucky by definition.
Once everyone was finally accounted for, the meeting resumed. The floor was still soaked with water from the fire-extinguishing efforts, but we didn't have a second to waste looking for a new venue. To make the parade a reality, we focused on the two most critical issues:
First, we had to confirm the participants and secure the route. We needed to know exactly who was marching to determine the formation and order. Fortunately, the Demon King had provided general instructions on that front. Our boss confirmed twice that the proposed order was truly what was intended, so that part seemed settled.
However, the current plan was frustratingly vague, calling for "a few people, including a representative" from each town with a gate. We were secretly hoping for about ten people per location. Putting our personal wishes aside, our next task was to contact and persuade these groups to join. Apparently, Shashato City and Village Five had already been consulted, but we still had to send formal notifications.
As for the route, we couldn't finalize anything without knowing the local conditions and preferences of each region. At least the Teleportation Gates allowed us to travel for site inspections quickly. The leader began assigning people to these tasks.
I wasn't chosen for either. Instead, I was put in charge of guest management.
Parades are generally intended for the local populace, so the guest list usually consists of local dignitaries. However, the world is full of people who, despite living nowhere near the event, will get offended if they aren't invited. Personally, I don't know why anyone would want to go out of their way to involve themselves in something so troublesome, but I suppose being left out feels lonely. I understood the sentiment, but they needed to consider the scale of the Demon Kingdom. We occupy half the world. It’s not uncommon for a letter to take six months just to get a reply. If we sent invitations now, the parade would likely be over by the time the RSVPs came back.
Logically, the best move was not to send invitations at all, but politics doesn't work that way. As I said, people hate being ignored. I decided the best approach was to contact the high-ranking lords in each region and have them handle the fallout. They could tell their disgruntled subordinates: "We received word of the parade in the Royal Capital, but it was decided so suddenly that we couldn't make it in time. The Demon King expressed his deepest regrets."
It was a solid plan. It put the burden of the "apology" on the Demon King, but it would settle things peacefully. At least, that was my hope—provided the Demon King agreed to it. I decided to ask him, figuring it was worth a shot. Even if some people grumbled, it was a safe enough excuse that things would blow over in a few years.
A few days later, a report reached the committee that sent a shockwave through the room.
The number of participants from Shashato City was over 1,500. The final count was expected to hit 2,000. The participants from Village Five already exceeded 2,000. The estimate was closer to 3,000.
This parade was only supposed to last half a day. How were we supposed to move five thousand people through Teleportation Gates? This wasn't a disciplined army; these were civilians! Did the higher-ups have any idea how much work it took to keep that many ordinary people in a straight line?
The committee room erupted in shouts to refuse the numbers and cap the participation. Amidst the shouting, the messenger spoke up in a trembling voice.
"The Demon King has issued a direct command to accept every single participant... specifically, he insisted that we must not turn away anyone from Shashato City or Village Five."
For a brief, flickering moment, the "Parade Executive Committee" transformed into the "Anti-Demon King Committee." But our collective loyalty—or perhaps our survival instincts—prevailed. Loyalty is a powerful thing; I was surprised to find I still had some. The Demon King should be very grateful that I have a wife and daughter to come home to, or I might have done something drastic.
The parade was officially extended to a multi-day event. My workload immediately ballooned to include securing lodging, food, and outhouses for five thousand people. Between that and the guest list, my head was throbbing.
Just then, another report arrived.
"Don't tell me the numbers went up again," I groaned. "At this point, nothing will surprise me."
"No, it’s not that... it’s, well..." The messenger hesitated. "A group of dragons and wyverns will be joining the parade."
I sighed. Fine. I didn't know how the Demon King had arranged it, but having dragons and wyverns circling the sky would certainly make for a spectacle. At least I wouldn't have to worry about their food... right? I started mentally checking our meat stocks just in case.
"We've been told we don't need to provide food," the messenger continued. "However... while the wyverns will fly, the dragons have requested to walk."
I stared at him. "Why?"
"Because it’s a parade... and apparently, they want to march on the ground."
"Do you have any idea how wide a dragon is?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
"I don't know the exact measurements, sir, but I suspect they won't fit on the roads we've currently selected for the route..."
Across the room, the colleagues in charge of the route let out a collective scream of agony. I didn't take any pleasure in their pain, mostly because I knew their disaster would eventually trickle down to my department. I had a feeling that, before this was over, I’d be facing a similar catastrophe of my own.