Hostis Humani Generis


XXVIII: Binnacle List

Unlike most of the gamers of YGGDRASIL, Kaiō Michiru was actually old enough to remember when food was less about refuelling and more about taste. Grandma Kaiō had been a native of Hakodate, and summers of seafood caught fresh from the coast and clam-digging for ramen and udon was a prized childhood memory. Michiru had inherited from Grandma that same pickiness, added on with the experience of Yokosuka JMSDF curry, on top of life in Kanagawa in general.

Even if everything else went to shit afterwards – the Big Eight, the Arcology War, ageing and the little triumphs and tragedies of ordinary and extraordinary life – the facts of Kaiō Michiru had not changed from eighteen going on eighty. Kaiō Michiru knew her food: knew a time when food was more than meat-flavoured gel and health drinks, and consequently did not appreciate the lack of a taste function in the neural nano-interface. This was a woman who, in the Arcology War, had spent her leave dining at Maxim's in Paris, paying more attention to the plat principal than to the military brass coincidentally also dining at Maxim's.

Therefore, it was on this particular morning that Sycorax, now as a Nagini in her twenties, was eating doughnuts slathered in butter and jam with all an elderly lady's relish. Her absorption with pastries, however, was not so great that she failed to note the rest of the selection, or to neglect her breakfast companion.

"So... you have a site in mind?"

Momonga nodded. His skeletal face might show no indication, but the attending servants looked askance at the fact that Sycorax was attacking the muffins with more attention than paid to the master of Nazarick. "Your... Nereus, he canvassed five sites that we've outlined with Demiurge, and he chose this point, midway from the cabin that I've erected for the Lizardmen offensive. He also flirted with... well, everyone. Even Aura and Mare?"

"Racial traits of Sidhe. Titania-chan was big on not being restricted by gender." Sycorax lifted a doughnut and took an immense bite. Rich red real strawberry jam gushed out over her chin, even as she drew back and snorted as the jam dripped onto her breakfast plate. She threw back her head and laughed, one of the loudest and gayest sounds to have been heard within the halls of Nazarick for some time.

Lumière was immediately beside her, a small delicate napkin proffered. Sycorax took it and scrubbed her chin with the vigour of a young child and an exclamation of delight.

"Ah. One of the Faery races." Momonga steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair. "That looks good," he added.

"It is. My compliments are with your pâtissier."

Lumière blushed, promising to deliver the kind words of the Supreme Beings to the Head Maid at first opportunity.

"How do they taste?"

Sycorax pondered it, taking another bite. "Sweet, with a give on the bite. The jam's made with real fruit – Alfheimr Hautbois, eh? Are you sure you should be serving fruits like these?"

"I had took many of them," Momonga acknowledged. "Fruits are best served fresh, when we can."

"On that we are in relative agreement, except that I have a brigade de cuisine to deal with all of that ship-side," Sycorax chewed down thoughtfully on the remnants of the doughnut. "You know," she thought aloud, "I was once told by Surimi that if you concentrated hard enough, you could- trick yourself into tasting food. I was so excited, got a whole set of preserves to try and a Samovar for hot water and I was going to have tea with Kladenets. He's Russian, and a few hundred years ago they'd do that – boil concentrated black tea, set up a samovar, and have tea with jam."

"Erm... everything tastes like... nothing."

"My point exactly," Sycorax gave a woebegone look, which cleared as a large teapot of white interlaced with silver was presented before her, along with its attendant teacup and saucer. "I do not know how they did it, but the shitty devs managed to selectively screw up my sense of taste inside- you know."

Silence reigned as she poured out the tea and absently inhaled its scent, before taking a sip with a distinct gloom. "So, maps – of the site, and then to use「Compass Rose」, set up a base-building item, and... well, map out the environs, I suspect. You and I are men of business – well, man and woman. Have you reviewed the contract?"

"Albedo and Demiurge are still pondering about the clauses within." Momonga nodded. "I understand your hesitations about cosigning Guild property over – Nereus was fairly strident about the cartography clause."

"I told him to be. Not that I don't trust you, Momonga-san, but I'll bet on my cartography and navigation any day."

"I bow to your wisdom, and the fact that you have managed to divine our location within hours of talking with nothing but your wits and some first-class talking." Momonga nodded. "Also, there is one clause I would like to emphasise on now. The interaction one. I cannot think that all our interactions would be as easily facilitated as ours. Shalltear nearly took off Nereus' head."

Sycorax hummed. A splotch of jam nearly made a permanent imprint on the white napkin, but for the pirate's intervention with a nearby plate. "I'll talk to him about that during the site survey. However... I might have caused you a bit of trouble."

"Oh?"

Sycorax sighed, contemplating the amber liquid in her teacup. "See, I've been calling on them in their respective floors... and I started with Demiurge."


Having passed through the Teleport Gate that bypassed the eighth floor, Sycorax now set out to build connections with the rest of the Nazarick Guardians. Moving on foot was technically unnecessary since her recent possession of a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, but Sycorax was still schooled enough in the field of Japanese manners to make the journey on foot with Nereus and Lumière trailing behind her.

From her deductions and Nereus' informations, the prestige of Nazarick's Floor Guardians, Area Guardians and maids depended on their claims of being creations of the guild members – and being technically a guild member now, she had turned from guest to one who ruled over them.

Having just made her plans, Sycorax wrote out a number of calling-cards for all subsequent meetings and sent Lumière to deliver them. At the appointed hour, she changed her clothes – again – and made her way through the teleport gate which bypassed the eighth floor. The seventh floor of Nazarick was misnamed – it was a world whose air seemed aglow with red light. Crimson lava cut a swathe through scorched earth, and numerous bubbles in the current of melted rock burst as they reached the surface.

"Guess they suspended the damage-field area effect," Nereus mildly observed.

The heat might have been turned down. However, this was not a place where the living could easily survive; the scorching air would easily strip throats and skin of their moisture in seconds. Even fresh sweat would instantly vaporise into steam. This place, so thoroughly inimical to the living, perfectly fitted the description of Christian Hell – or Avīci Hell, if Sycorax had to make a comparison.

Even so, many creatures lived here as part of the Great Tomb of Nazarick – for instance, demons, many of which had Fire resistance. The outlines of several demons were apparent in the smoke clouds that hung low and heavy in the air. In addition, there were Mephits, corrupted spirits of fire, hovering around. Further in, Undead with very strong Fire resistance dotted the landscape.

Sycorax followed the course of the lava river, walking along the path that ran over a dam. Every now and then, the gigantic, writhing creature within it gave a bloop, seemed to lose interest, and left.

"Abyssal Slime noted," Nereus muttered.

"Can you kill it?" Sycorax murmured to him.

"I'll need a weapon with Water-type damage buffs," Nereus assessed. As a creature optimized for combat, its fighting ability was easily on par with himself. Were he an enemy, he would have been dragged into the burning river of level by its tentacles and attacked by a virtually invisible opponent that did not need to breathe and could hide its body in the lava. "This is the Demon with the specs, right?"

"If you mean Demiurge, then yes." Sycorax rolled her eyes at his antics. The giant slime, Guren, was a far more dangerous opponent than this floor's Guardian, but Demiurge was still a Floor Guardian of Nazarick. "How did you offend him this time?"

"I may have offered a drink, insinuated something about his shape-shifting ability, and licked his face."

"As a man?"

"As a horse."

Sycorax rested her right palm on her face as they continued, a cluster of randomly-strewn white columns drifting into view ahead. It might have been a majestic Greek-style temple once, but the columns were scattered like they had been in violent collision, and the statues of various gods were smashed and scattered. The heavy roof-ceiling had fallen down, its pieces were lodged in the ground. Truly a warzone. Desolation permeated the entire scene.

Evil Lords, Demons that were around level 80, hung around the steps and the ruins. Their eyes focused on the retinue – a natural reaction, given their appearance. However, they were still able to discern that the Nagini before them was an existence far above their own, so they did not indulge the basic demonic instinct to make others suffer.

All of them rested their foreheads to the ground as one. "The denizens of the seventh floor of Nazarick pay their respects to the Supreme Beings."

A Demon stepped forward. It wore a dirty white hood that concealed its features. Its body was twisted and lumpy, and it looked otherworldly, capable of corrupting humans into equally demonic beings with a few words. A large golden pendant hung around its neck, inscribed with what seemed like letters.

"This humble Imp presents himself to the Supreme Being Sycorax. If you would be so gracious as to follow me, Lord Demiurge has awaited your... ascent."

Sycorax wordlessly followed. After passing through the desecrated temple, a pale white throne greeted her from atop the uneven, slightly lumpy ground. Demiurge arose from the throne and stepped forward.

Demiurge then went to one knee in a graceful descent, as though expressing his heart through his actions. "The Guardian of the seventh Floor, Demiurge, present himself to the Supreme Being, Sycorax."

Sycorax chose her words very carefully. "Thank you, Demiurge. Dispense with formality. I need to ask you something."

Demiurge slowly rose to his feet. "As you command, my lady. Just over three hours before, someone passed through the seventh floor. Would that be yourself?"

"Yes."

"Yo!" Nereus greeted.

Demiurge's smile dropped. "You have brought him along, Sycorax-sama."

"He is the Commander of the First Division. It cannot be helped. As commander of Nazarick's overall defences, you will be meeting my chief assassin and combat diver often."

Demiurge's frown deepened. "I see. If that is Sycorax-sama's intention... Well then… I believe I can coordinate with any other Guardian in order to accomplish the objectives. However, I consider myself something of a jack of all trades, so during combat, I doubt I could work very well with... Nereus."

"Once the site of our stone frigate is decided, and 「Compass Rose」 is cast, the Fleet's commanders will have to rendezvous with your Guardians," Sycorax shrugged. "Unless you don't work well with people?"

"I understand," Demiurge accepted placidly, though his eyes narrowed. "I feel that I would work best when partnered with a melee fighter – Cocytus, for one – but as I mentioned, even if I were unable to get along with any of the Guardians, if Ainz-sama willed it, I would match my abilities... indeed, even though I am ever-incompatible with Sebas, I doubt he would take any actions that ran counter to Ainz-sama's dictates."

"How strange," Sycorax exclaimed. "I have spoken with a few of you, but this is the first time anyone outright commented on their preferences."

Demiurge inclined his head in acknowledgement. Both of them stared at each other – almost in en garde position.

"That speaks well about your honesty," Sycorax commented aloud. Privately, she thought that the man before her was a lying demons who tortured sentient beings and harvested their skins in all manner of cruelty – truly a literal Demon she needed to keep her guard up against. "You see, I am asking you in regards to Nazarick's... future stability."

"Oh?"

"Yes... I want grandchildren, but Momonga is a bag of bones without the necessary equipment at the moment."

"―I think this is the first time anyone has stated the problem like such," Demiurge allowed. "But why have you come to me?"

"If anything were to happen, I would be the last Supreme Being left," Sycorax archly replied. "Same applies if anything were to happen to me."

"...I see," Demiurge pushed the bridge of his pince-nez spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a finger. "All great leaders require a successor."

"I was thinking more of a companion," Sycorax insisted. "See, he's an Elder Lich, so he'll live far longer without ageing. I don't want him to get lonely... if something were to happen."

"You are very generous, milady," Demiurge promptly replied. "So you would elect a... consort? She will have to be of sufficient status."

"He or she," Sycorax insisted. "My Fleet recognises open marriages."

"For the purposes of an heir with the requisite blood, we must assume that the consort will be female, milady," Demiurge sighed. "Albedo and Shalltear are the strongest contenders."

"..."

Demiurge grew increasingly aware of her emerald stare directed towards him. "Was I wrong?"

"If we talk about the requisite blood," Sycorax mulled, "then there is a difference between the Original Nine and the later members of Ainz Ooal Gown."

"The Original Nine?" Demiurge repeated.

"I mean- argh, that's long ago," Sycorax shook her head. "I wanted to hear your thoughts about... suitable candidates."

"...it would have to be within Nazarick, if Sycorax-sama does not consent."

Sycorax nodded. "Go on."

"...in terms of reproduction, Shalltear is an Undead," Demiurge elaborated, confident about his purpose of being granted an audience with the holy of holies that were the Supreme Beings. "In terms of raw power, Albedo cannot quite compare. The Original Nine..."

"...from forty-one, first were nine," Sycorax spoke, as if recalling a memory. "Nine's Own Goal, that was their name. Over time, the name changed, and today you know its form, Demiurge."

Some magical quality seemed to seize her. She was at once ethereal, and far too real to be anything else. The green of her eye was flecked with gold, and in her black dress and black pearls, she made an impression upon Demiurge. Awe seized his heart – this was one of the Supreme Beings! This was untold history of the Supreme Beings!

"Of course, that's a moot point," Sycorax considered. "But if it were, then Aura would have the best claim."

"Aura? Aura Bella Fiora?" Demiurge repeated.

"Yes?" Sycorax blinked. "Bukubukuchagama was one of the Original Nine, and a Dark Elf is more likely to procreate, if you were into those things. But if I had to give a preference..."


"And," Sycorax rounded up, "this was how I ended up throwing in my lot for a possible queen consort."

A ring-encrusted hand slapped the high ridge of his skeletal brow. "Sycorax-san," Momonga complained.

"...oops?"


Critiquez, s'il vous plaît !