Chapter 93: Milo Metalsmith

Note: This is a much shorter than average chapter, but hopefully, it makes up for that by being the second chapter today.

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“I have never been more glad to call myself a resident of this city,” Pico said, and the audience cheered. “I’ve seen the work you’ve all done. You’ve seen it, too. We’ve emptied out our storehouses, converting every single resource in this city into the goods and preparations both we and the settlements will need to thrive through this change. In the past few days, we’ve done almost everything we can do to make sure everything goes well. Except one.”

“He’s gotten better at speaking. Over the last few years, I mean,” Minos said. “I feel like I’ve missed a lot of that change. Do you remember when he barely talked?”

“I do.” Ella smiled. “Thank Karbo for that. There’s nothing like a big red guy regularly damaging property to bring someone out of his shell. Now, shh. He’s going to make the announcement.”

“Our last task is the drawing.” Pico paused for a moment, letting the audience take that in. “The government has been clear on one thing. This drawing is voluntary. The empire has never been healthier, and our population has never been bigger. If you are drawn and don’t feel you can complete the duty, you’re free to decline. Those gaps will be filled, one way or another.”

Itela brought a small metal bowl to the front of the stage, setting it on Pico’s podium before backing away.

“But those who can fulfill the call will find themselves at the front of a newer, better era for demon kind. They will build communities that intertwined with their own vision for how life is best lived. They will shape their future homes.” Pico put his hand on the bowl. “Today, we are drawing forty names. And the first is…. Tanges. Tanges Roadbuilder.”

A cheer went up, as everyone around the youngish paver clapped him on the back and congratulated him on the opportunity. There wasn’t much question that he was going. Arthur had rarely seen anyone looking so happy.

“He’s lucky,” Milo said. “He’ll be working on new roads for years, if not decades.”

The drawing progressed fairly quickly, with only a short pause for each name. Most of those called made perfect sense. They were architects, alchemists, and infrastructure generalists. Some of them, Minos explained, would be dedicated to a single city. Most would do double-duty between a few settlements at first, until things were a bit more established.

A few were surprises to Arthur. A runist was called up, which he hadn’t expected. Neither had the runist, but she looked absolutely thrilled about it. She’d be providing enchanted goods for a whole series of growing settlements. It was explained that she was almost guaranteed she’d be the best version of herself ever.

As the drawing continued, Arthur finally let himself get caught up in the spirit of the thing.

He had been thinking about this all as a kind of draft, despite what everyone had told him. In his limited but tenacious memories of Earth, he remembered the draft as something that was a necessary evil. Some people hated the idea of the draft, while others embraced it.

He should have known better. The demon world wasn’t Earth. This was a world based on niceness, where everyone was building a better world, not just for themselves but also for the others around them.

And the drawing was the best example of that. Everyone around Arthur had predicted that the event would be treated with fanfare. It was going exactly how they had said it would go. Everyone drawn wasn’t just okay with things, they were actively excited. It was a big adventure.

The other part of why Arthur began to relax was more selfish. After dozens of different names, none of Arthur’s friends had been called. Not Rhodia the potter, or Corbin the scout, not even Chuck the fighter.

And then Pico was down to the last slip of paper.

“This will be it. After this piece of paper, the city will make no more suggestions. Anyone else who wants to go will be welcome, of course, but past this point the requests we will make of our people are over.”

Pico’s hand reached towards the bowl as Arthur glanced towards Mizu. Her hands were clenched, and he could tell she was feeling the same premonition he was. No wellers had been called yet. If anyone was left, it was going to be her. He knew it. She knew it. Her name was in Pico’s hand.

They were both wrong. Pico read the name, and it wasn’t hers.

“Milo,” Pico said. “The last drawing today is Milo Metalsmith.”

Arthur looked at Milo, who was frozen in place. It was the last thing anyone expected. Metalsmiths were a dime a dozen, and he hadn’t expected to be called or expressed any interest in going. His mouth was stuck open mid-sentence for a good second before he snapped it shut, opened it again, and reacted with a cheer and a fist pump.

He was going. The crowd exploded into cheers of their own all around him.