Disclaimer: You know by now that I don't really own Overlord, but whatever. I don't own Overlord or its characters.

Chapter 7

XXXXXXX

Catala could move faster than your average arrow, yes, but not instantaneously. The distance was too short to gain the speed necessary, so she instead used the power all humans possess.

Light-speed vision. Cannons, guns, bows, railguns, crossbows, none shot faster than light-speed. But a human could see at this, the greatest of all speeds. The trouble was your brain keeping up with the data, but for super-humans, and Catala was one, this limitation was massively retrograded.

So, just like that, she calculated the trajectories of the arrows headed towards her and decided on a course of action.

Catala leapt forward, crouching low and deflecting a couple of arrows away with her paper, the rest flying harmlessly above and beside her. It was a simple and effective maneuver, not showy, but impressive to those who knew their stuff.

Ruffiase's expression turned somewhat sour, but it wasn't so much of a surprise that he expressed himself more vocally. Indeed, he himself would be able to achieve such a result, though by a different method.

There was no need to waste his troop's lives and energy on this woman. Uninterrupted, he was confident of his success.

The trouble was the tree-boy. Ruffiase wasn't stupid, he knew at a glance that he wouldn't win with just one of him against these two.

But if he had another…

"Flares!"

Let his men think him a coward; he wasn't going to freaking die.

The beastmen regulars were too well-trained to question a battlefield command, it simply wasn't done. Therefore, with damaged pride, their flaremen released a red rocket into the sky.

It indicated an urgent request for help. It was also a color that had only been seen once before. Most beastmen would rather die than lose their pride and ask for assistance.

On the plus side, no beastman would ignore the plea, if only to shame the one who issued it.

"Your plan worked a little too well, perhaps." The tree-boy commented sarcastically as his eyes followed the rocket.

"There can't be that many around. I can handle this group myself."

"And I'm to take the reinforcements." He yawned, "When they finally arrive."

Let them talk; each moment brings me closer to victory.

"I've already won, from the moment you attacked the beastmen, you were dead."

"Let's test that out, shall we?"

Ruffiase readied his sword, a fine piece of mythril he'd taken off the corpse of a human noble, "Come then, if you dare."

Fast.

Yes, the human woman was fast, but so was he. Her little paper shield couldn't hold up to his swings, and he reduced it by half right off the bat.

His reach was just too far. Catala's weapon wasn't just short; it was the shortest melee weapon. And with how fast Ruffiase moved, there was no way to score a hit without being able to deflect blow.

But that was a naïve way of thinking. After-all, that didn't take into account [Martial Arts].

"Ability Boost." Instantly her speed increased, and the girl's weapon shot towards him.

But the human had underestimated him. Did she think that humans were the only ones who could use [Martial Arts]?

"Two-fold Kick." Even faster than the human's attack, Ruffiase's own slammed into her. Fortunately for the girl, she managed, somehow, to use [Fortress] before his technique landed. Blow back but undamaged, Catala looked up at her opponent.

Shock. That was the word that described her expression.

"Pahahaha! Did you think that somehow humans were the only ones to create skills? My people have been fighters since the moment we were born! Did you really think jumped up livestock and farmers could stand a chance?"

"Heavy Slash!" Ruffiase brought his weapon down with a lightning quick stroke that gave off a fearful pressure.

Catala dodged by backing up, but when his following upward slash came, she could only go to the side. Trees tended to get in the way around here.

He continued to keep her on the defensive by raining down blow after blow, using a martial art whenever she tried anything serious.

Continuously striking at your enemy has been portrayed as exhausting, and it is. But then, what about shifting your entire body to leave your opponent's attack range?

It could only be described as harrowing.

Catala had rarely fought with someone of her own level - they were rare - and the constant fear of getting hit wasn't something she was used to. Her fighting style relied on striking the enemy down quickly, but somehow this beastmen was just fast enough to stop her, even under [Ability Boost].

If that was the case, she just needed to up the ante, "Greater Ability Boost!"

With her newfound strength, Catala struck out at the beastman captain, her orichalcum pen flashing as she homed in for the kill.

It ought to land, this blow, executed at the level it was. Based on the speed she'd measured from her opponent, there was no chance that he could dodge this, or even block it.

Ruffiase only grinned, bringing his sword down.

Blood flew into the air. Red and thick, it jumped a couple inches out of the body that had once contained it.

"Impossible…" With this final word, Catala, 7th Seat of the Black Scripture, slipped down and fell on her face, blood still spilling out of the wound on her back.

Ruffiase chuckled, "Only an idiot starts at full power or finishes his opponent right off when he's trying to buy time."

Tree-boy allowed himself to fall out of the tree, landing easily as he stared seriously at Ruffiase.

"You beat her easily, so why did you call for help?"

"Hah! Do you think I'm the kind of idiot who monologues and tells you his plans?"

"Frankly, I did. It was worth a shot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to heal that woman."

Ruffiase lifted his sword's hilt above his head, holding his blade down, "You'll never get the chance!"

But it was he that never got the chance. Blown back by an astonishing strike from the human, Ruffiase watched confoundedly as the human male poured a thick red fluid onto his downed compatriot.

It wasn't blood, the color was off.

Ruffiase sniffed the air, instantly being struck with a peculiar scent. He knew this scent. Back in the interior, the Beast King had set some humans to work for him, making… so-called healing elixirs. This smelled somewhat similar, but with a stronger alchemical tinge and no herbs.

At the time, Ruffiase was confused. Why not just eat these humans?

The Beast King explained diligently that sometimes it was better to keep your livestock alive instead of butchering them. Like keeping silkworms to make luxury fabric, the beastmen kept humans to make useful goods. After all, if they're worth more to you alive, why kill them?

But, as he saw what occurred when the potion was poured onto the girl, he understood fully why the King kept humans.

First, the bleeding stopped, then, her wound closed up, further than that, her complexion returned.

When the armored human kicked her lightly in the side, she got up instantly. Without pain on her back, fully restored, excepting the exhaustion she'd earned fighting the superior Ruffiase.

"What?" Catala turned to Zaug, "Why are you kicking me, what happened?"

Then, as her memories flooded back, Catala realized what had happened, "That blasted beastman got me… How am I fine?"

But her fellow had hidden the potion used to heal her, seeing no purpose in revealing it.

Besides, it was funny, watching her get confused when the answer was in front of her face.

Everyone used potions, yet somehow she couldn't connect the dots and figure out that he'd used high-grade stuff on her. So much for being scholarly and wise.

Zaug grinned at his secret win, "How should I know?"

"How unconvincing. But we have more important matters, this beastman is strong."

Zaug's brow went up as he tsukkomied internally, No, you're just weak.

Still, playing along was the name of the game. He hadn't come this far acting weak to suddenly break character, "I can keep him occupied, you watch for a chance."

"Sounds like a plan. Just make sure he doesn't get to your head. I just can't understand why you don't wear a helmet."

"It interferes with my field of view. I like my field of view. 'The moment you cannot see is the moment you die.'"

"What's that, your martial philosophy?"

"Part of it," Zaug drew his two-hander, "Let's see what you've got, beastman."

The bestial warrior opposite him snarled, but made no comment as he sharpened his senses.

"Strength of a Thousand Warriors."

The beastman commander's muscles bulged and his eyes glowed lightly under the effects of this top-class [Martial Art]. This was something the Beast King had used in his presence, and Ruffiase had trained for many a moon to master it himself. Shamefully, he'd had to ask for pointers, and this burning stain kept him from using the skill without dire need.

But again, Ruffiase would rather lose his pride than die.

The pressure Ruffiase emitted was on an entirely different level now, and it was clear that if his sword was made of any lesser material, it would have already broken under his iron grip. This was the strength that had earned the respect of his kin. This was the power he'd gotten from his King. This was the expression of his indomitable spirit that refused to die. This was his ultimate stroke.

"Rising Cutting Strike!"

And this? This was the remnant of the days where he was weak, the skill he had forged through his own fear, his own power, his own will. It was the remnants of the days where only trickery would see him on the victor's stand.

And that was why… that was why his strike was a diagonal slash, executed at unheard-of speeds, from his shoulder. From above.

The name of [Rising Cutting Strike] was the trick, anyone who heard this name would automatically look for an upward slash. Yet, the actual technique was downward in nature. For those who'd never heard of this clever move, it always spelled disaster.

This human too would fall, his potions would die with him, and the girl would be dead instantly.

And yet, why was it that he felt fear? For what reason did he doubt?

…Ah. That was why.

How had the human been able to blow him away so easily before? He hadn't even put any effort into it. It was like he'd just flicked him away.

How strong did he have to be to do that? While it was true that the Beast King could do similar, it would take effort.

Was it because it took him by surprise? Wait. When had the human closed the distance anyway? One moment he was landing on the ground and saying his little line, and the next Ruffiase was flying backwards.

No! Now is the time for action, not fear!

With these feelings in his heart, Ruffiase finished his stroke.

His worst fears were confirmed. Ruffiase could only watch in anger as the human made a painfully obvious fake expression of exertion as he parried the blow easily.

So strong was the blow and so sharp were the swords… something had to give. It was Ruffiase's mythril blade. Cleanly chopped off at the point where contact was made, his sword did not even quaver so easily had the other ruined it.

It was all he could do not to give in to his rising despair as he saw that the tree-boy's weapon was not chipped in the slightest.

He'd never had a chance, had he?

Then, to survive this, he had to live. He had to live to survive. How was he going to live? What could he do? He couldn't win, that was obvious. That implied that he couldn't run.

Even if his King saw the flare and came this instant, both of them would fall just the same.

"This humble one asks you to not kill him, and instead accept my services for life to repay the debt."

Better to live ignominiously as the servant of a great man than to die fighting that selfsame man. Once you die, it's all over. That was Ruffiase's philosophy.

"Just like that?"

"Better for this pile of trash to live as great one's servant than to have great one kill him here."

The human grinned slightly before sighing and sheathing his blade, "'To live as a slave is better than to die free.' These words I know, but can you truly live by them?"

"Until the day this piece of cow-pie dies."

"I accept, so stop talking like that. It's good to acknowledge your betters, but taking it too far will just tire both of us out."

"If great one says so, it is so."

There was a day he'd lived only by false humility and enforced servitude, planning the day he'd cut the head off his master. He'd succeeded, at length, but not by letting the other side know of his intentions.

Those days had returned, and they would be no different. He'd bide his time and act like a good little boy, all the while searching for weaknesses and growing stronger.

"That's settled then." He paused, "Well, not quite. I'm your new master, Zaug."

"Your humble servant Ruffiase stands ready."

"How's that, Catala?"

"Not fine at all. This beastman scum is obviously trying to save his own skin for now, but he'll betray you later."

"That's simple. I just need to prove that I'm strong, enough that he won't even try." Zaug drew himself and considered for half a second, "Chaos. Wave of Fear. Triplet Magic: Unholy Bolts."

First, some of the beastmen on the left flank began to attack their brethren, second, a dark miasma spread out from Zaug's hand, engulfing the center and part of the right. Thirdly, three magic circles appeared in the sky around Zaug, spewing negative-nature diamond-shaped bolts out at Ruffiase's former subordinates, successfully shredding all but a few.

Those remaining were all insane or struck by the fear status effect.

The crazies finished off their fear-stricken kinsmen quickly, leaving only Catala, Ruffiase, Zaug, and six insane beastmen who were charging them.

"Finish them, Ruffiase."

"At once!" Finally slinging the shield off his back, Ruffiase stepped forward with his shortened blade and easily dispatched the [Chaos] victims.

"And now we wait. When they arrive, those helps you asked for, I want you to kill them."

It might seem cruel, asking a man to kill his former comrades, but this is necessary. Without at least this much, he would think of running right back to his old life whenever I look away, but if news of his betrayal reaches his old buddies…

Convincing himself with such words, Zaug decided on a course of action.

"Of course, my master."

And come they did, a group looking much like Ruffiase's had, though with a huge bear-man at their head. This bear-man, unlike most beastmen, looked more beast than man, to the extent that if it wasn't for his obviously natural upright gait and sentience, one might mistake him for a real bear.

"Ruffiase," The hulking commander began rudely, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Die."

Ruffiase dashed forward, bringing his sword down with a [Heavy Slash] and taking the other beastman by surprise.

Ruffiase was fast, and the other was slow.

But the bear-man hadn't been made a commander just because he looked imposing. He was imposing.

"Fortress. Bestial Aggression. So you've betrayed us."

"Call it whatever you like, you'll still be a dead man."

Bringing out his claws, the bear-man swung his arms and bared his fangs.

"You'll never live long enough to enjoy whatever these humans promised you! GRAAHHH!"

Ruffiase glanced at his sword in distaste. The inches he'd lost weren't helping. And while he'd love to throw off the shield for more speed, he didn't dare. While it couldn't stand up to a swipe from the bear in front of him, it was his lifeline if the others attacked. With a shield, he could pretty much ignore their arrows, without it, he'd be constantly pressured.

The balance of active and inactive power was with Ruffiase. He was confident in his side's win.

But, if he couldn't do this alone, what would Zaug say or do? There was no resisting in his current state. No, he had to win this alone.

But could he? Without his master's or even the girl's help, Ruffiase was the weaker party.

If the troops were involved in an effective manner, he would lose. But if he could finish this fight piecemeal… Who was this ugly bear again? He ought to remember such a bestial face. AH! Yuitagb. Prideful and strong, he technically held the same rank as Ruffiase, though with less seniority.

Then, like with almost every other beastman, he just had to insult his pride. "Heh. Struggling, Yuitagb? Maybe you should call in your minions, it's not like you can win without them."

"Rush!"

Charging forward like the unstoppable pile of flesh that he was, Yuitagb scared Ruffiase away but ultimately failed to do anything to him. While fast, the speed afforded to him by [Rush] wasn't enough to catch the nimble Ruffiase.

"BRAAAAHHGH!"

"So noisy." Lightly dodging Yuitagb's every blow, Ruffiase waited for the right moment. It wouldn't do to actually hurt the fellow enough that he called in the troops. No, he had to kill him outright in one move. It wouldn't hurt if he still had a point on his sword, but he'd manage.

Where to aim… Since he was limited to slashes, Ruffiase couldn't really go for the heart or lungs. In that case, he needed to aim for the neck. Split the artery and spill the blood.

"Perception." Invoking a skill that raised his senses and battle instinct, Ruffiase rushed forward at his opponent, "Perfect Cut," And ended it. In the blink of an eye, one moment where you're ten milliseconds too slow, that's how combat ends.

That was also why a good number of people played warrior classes in Yggdrasil, despite their lack-luster array of skills. That rush, that feeling, that indescribably awesome moment where you know you're going to die but do your best anyway and win.

But Yuitagb lost. And he wasn't in some virtual reality where he could say a bad word, lose a few levels and come back. He was bleeding out. And as Ruffiase danced away from his final blows, there was just the awful darkness of death to greet him. Or was death light? Were those the souls of the men he'd killed? He didn't know anymore… He was just… so… tired.

Ruffiase smiled grimly as the struggling brute finally slunk down to his final slumber, turning now to the subordinates of the fallen warrior.

For him to live, these ones had to die.

So he killed them. One, dodge, two, block, three, four, sidestep, dodge, five, six, seven… On and on it went, the vaunted elite of the beastmen falling one after the other. Under the effects of [Strength of a Thousand Men], Ruffiase totally outclassed his opponents.

And if there was one thing Zaug had learned from games, it was that away number of level ten characters had 0 chance against someone level sixty or higher. Throw a thousand or a hundred thousand, when the difference was wide enough, it didn't matter anymore.

And so it was here. Without Yuitagb to draw Ruffiase's attention and provide openings, the others were like lost sheep in front of a lion or a bear.

But, like sheep, they ran. And while the lion tried to catch them, the lion-tamer had other thoughts.

"Leave them. They're not worth the effort."

That was the official statement, but everyone knew the truth.

Those defeated beastmen were going to spread the news: Ruffiase had betrayed the Beast King in favor of humans.

And that was good. This meant severed ties. While keeping the truth hush-hush might seem nice, if Zaug sent Ruffiase to do espionage, he'd just go back to his old life. And that wasn't what he wanted, so he didn't allow it.

Now there was no place for Ruffiase amongst the beastmen, and humans hated his kind. The only option remaining was to be what he had declared he would be: Zaug's servant.

It was a simple, cruel, and effective plan. The best kind when it came to betrayals.

But this much was to be expected. To live on, Ruffiase had chosen this result.

Beyond betraying the Beast King, he had no regrets. Other than his King, no beastman had done anything for him.

He pointed his bloodied visage in the direction of his new master, searching wordlessly for criticism or fresh orders.

Zaug nodded once, "Today is a good day. Hopefully you'll be a fun addition to our party."

Aish, there it is again, talking in gamey language. Nobody really says 'party', do they?

Not waiting for a reply, and partially to cover his own embarrassment, Zaug continued, "But first, let's get you cleaned up, the smell of blood is nauseating."

Nauseating wasn't the right word… perhaps exciting was closer to it. Oh how he lo… hated that smell, how it made him eupho… sick. That was sick and he wasn't going to stand for it.

And yet, rather than face his fear, Zaug did what he was good at, he got rid of it. If blood is a problem, we'll just wash it off.

There was one thing he never wanted, and that was to get used to this. He never wanted to be so inured to death and blood that he could just ignore them. In a way, he could just treat these feeling as a way to judge whenever something bad was happening.

Whenever he felt happy and excited, something evil was going down, either in his thoughts or on the ground. And if he felt bored, all was well.

So, for the first time in his life, Zaug relished the sweet feelings of boredom. They meant that he wasn't thinking of eating those delectable humans, or cruelly smashing Catala's bones for no reason, or raiding the Draconic Kingdom's castle and taking the queen.

Boredom was safe, but it never stayed. Always his mind wandered, cooking up plots to overthrow countries or spoil people's lives.

He needed some sort of hobby. Something safe that would keep him occupied while still satisfying his evil heart.

Perhaps manipulating this beastman would do. Though, one side of him muttered, it would have been better if it was a girl.

If it was a novel it would have been. Especially a novel that was like his life right now, a sort of game-is-reality type situation. What a bad joke, if this was a proper novel, his first slave would be a beautiful elf girl or cat girl or vampire girl, or even a human girl. Instead, he was stuck with a muscle-head.

Really, really, unfair. Where's my beastgirl!?

"As I think to myself that I am unfortunate,

I find as I look I have a new subordinate,

And then these feelings are strengthened,

For my orientation need not be straightened,

A man of muscle is my new friend,

Where is the maiden I can defend?

How sorry a man is the one called me,

To complain about that which is free,

I wish I could change this nature of mine,

This dreadful nature that's far from benign,

Pray I do that thou shall not see,

That darker than dark, that true side of me."

Writing down his lyrics, Catala said, "If that's how you feel, you shouldn't have taken him on."

"You paid way too much attention to the first part."

"So what should I be getting out of this, that you're a depressed guy?"

"Or you could stop trying to psychoanalyze my poems and just take them as they come."

"'From the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.' The God of Water passed down these words, and I have yet to find them wrong."

Zaug turned to her with a raised brow, "He's not… Forget it."

Strange that one of the so-called gods was interested in religious texts. Or maybe not, he couldn't really tell.

XXXX

The season had now fully changed, though dry brown leaves still clung to their hosts, as if yearning to still be a part of the trees that had killed them for the greater good.

Yes, there were metaphors everywhere, and seasonal ones were not the hardest to spot.

"'As the leaves fall in autumn, so do the men.' I'm surprised the empire hasn't issued its usual challenge yet."

"There's no chance they won't do so, unless they have some budding trouble that has yet to reach our ears."

"I don't see why they should."

"Jircniv is still young; perhaps he's tired of war."

"You're far too optimistic, Count Reshur."

"Ah, Marquis Raeven, have you come to scheme or socialize?"

Said noble's face twisted into a snakelike grin, "To socialize, of course."

The surrounding nobles laughed heartily at the perceived joke. It was common knowledge that Raeven never went anywhere without some plan to better his own situation.

It was also common knowledge that he'd been very successful. Through no small amount of wit and pluck, Raeven had managed to navigate between the two noble factions, Royalist and Patrician, and had secured a place as the most influential individual in the Kingdom, excluding Ranpossa III.

To nobles, royals, and commoners alike he was a man to tread carefully around, to the extent that Reshur's casual question caused his friends to frown. Raeven wasn't someone to talk to without a plan. And he certainly wasn't someone a young count who knew too much and yet so very little should talk to.

"And you, Count Reshur?"

"You know me. I'm here for the drinks and the ladies."

"On that note, how's the wife?"

Reshur swallowed a strong shot of liquor, "Not so happy to be 'wife'."

Raeven smiled congenially, "Ah, you know how women are. You just have to take a strong stance and give her some time. These things don't happen overnight."

"No, I suppose not. How about you, Raeven? You have a son, right?"

"Hm? Ah, yes, I do. What is he now? Young, I think."

"Too concerned with politics to know your son's age?"

"He's his own man. The affairs of the kingdom are too pressing for me to have the time to waste on a lone boy."

"Pressing indeed. I say, the peasants are becoming atrociously 'pressing'. As if I can control when the empire attacks, sad little buggers can't even understand this much, too much filth in their brains."

"Or too many drugs."

"True enough. Disgusting vermin, just because they don't like their lot in life they ruin their own further. That's why I say it takes a man of pure blood and upbringing to rule."

"Indeed it does."

"And that," Reshur began in a hushed tone, "Is why I can't understand why everyone hates Stronoff so much. I mean, sure, he's not qualified to be made a noble or to rule a district, but his skill as a warrior is unchallenged. Let him do his job and all that."

"It takes a man of ability to see such things clearly. You have a bright future, Count Reshur."

Said man downed a couple more shots before replying, "Uh-huh. What tha? Two Raevens are standing in front of me. I say, look at that would you, there are two Marquis Raevenssss!"

That's why I hate these gatherings. Too much loose drink. And I dare say, loose upbringings.

"Reshur is still young. There now," Raeven patted him on the back, "Footmen, please escort Count Reshur back to his carriage."

"At once sir!"

Well, at least I know now that Reshur isn't at least involved with narcotics.

And never had been. These days there were fewer opportunities to get involved, thanks to the efforts of Princess Renner and the Adamantite adventurer team Blue Rose

"How was it?"

"Nothing, he's clean."

"I'll be on my way then."

Raeven nodded and moved on, striking up a conversation with one of the ladies, who were a prime source of information, and steadily weaseling his way deeper into the web of politics that played out that night.

XXX

"How's he doing?"

"As far as I can tell, that interloper recruited a beastman and now they're travelling around, the whole three of them."

"Zaug recruited a beastman?" Vladimov inquired once more, just to be sure.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Watch your tone. Why did he?"

"How do I know?! I can't hear what they're saying from this far away."

"That's all you've got?"

"Uh-huh."

"Call them in."

"Like, back here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like it when members of my Scripture do incomprehensible things. Now call them in."

"Uh-huh. Message. Vladimov says you guys had better get back here quick."

"With the beastman," Vlad reminded.

"He says brings the beastman… Uh-huh… Uh-huh… That interloper is such a pain… Vlad's giving me the stink-eye, seeya."

"Be a good girl and watch them as they come back. I have matters to attend to."

The Astrologer face turned pouty, "Aren't I a matter to attend to?"

Vlad sighed, "You're both a person and a matter, and I just attended to the matter."

"Then what about the person?"

"She's a big girl who can take care of herself, isn't she?"

"Well when you put it that way… muu."

"I'll see you later, Lotus."

The blue-haired girl in question beamed. It wasn't often Vlad even acted like she had a name, even though he was the only one who knew it. The pure joy she felt whenever he said her name… it felt like the only happiness she had. The rest of her life was just drudgery: watching over missions and events.

With no further words, though wearing a warm expression, Vlad left the room.

And promptly kicked himself. "What am I doing? What was I thinking!? Death god help me. She isn't a person, just a tool. Just a tool Vladimov, not a person."

He cursed loudly, "No feelings for the subject huh? When was it that I started to forget this? Was it when she showed up, when she grew up, or have I always been lying to myself?"

"I am unworthy to be an Archbishop. I am unworthy to be in charge of a Scripture. Oh gods have mercy on this unworthy man and show me how to live!"

There was no answer. There was always no answer. What was he to learn from this?

No, that wasn't right. The gods answered when he called upon them with power. When he used the spells they had taught his ancestors, they answered, just as they had promised.

But was there a spell for this? Could he wave a wand before his heart and erase these emotions? Was any spell strong enough to blot out this love?

He couldn't think of any spells that would do that. Even the memory altering spells of the gods were not wholly efficient. Vague feelings still remained.

Why then did he fight it? The gods had not provided a way to end this…

Oh yes they had. The very god he was a priest for had provided a way. A simple way.

Death.

If he died, he would no longer have these feelings.

But no, Vladimov shook his head, there was no suitable replacement. For the good of the Theocracy, he could not die.

Yes, this was all for the Theocracy.

XXX

Teehee! *knocks head* Sorry to say this, but the chapter's actually been done for like a week. I just didn't get around to proofreading it until now.

Also, Ruffiase threw me for a loop. Since when was he supposed to sweat fealty to Zaug. Blah, we'll run with it and make it interesting.

I'm happy to read your reviews. No, frankly, I really love to read them. Even making up excuses to refute the flamish comments can be amusing.

Your lazy author,

Iamwhononofyouare