Breeding Issues

by The Ruff Pusher

Momon the Dark Hero encounters Zesshi Zetsumei. mature content/smut

10. Chapter 10

Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.

This story uses the same setting as my other story "Momon, Big Black Changeling". Essentially, Ainz Ooal Gown is the same type of creature as in that story, although this and that story happen in different worlds.

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The whole royal palace was abuzz with activity. Outside, guards scurried back and forth, marching on patrols, carrying reports from one part of the structure to the next. Within, servants and retainers attended to their noble masters in a flurry of activity. A hidden thrum of energy, as of a storm brewing in a clear sky, coursed through the heart of the Re-Estize Kingdom, and none felt it more keenly than the heir presumptive, Prince Zanac. He strode through the maelstrom of activity that swirled through the hallowed halls of the Royal Seat, his expression firm and resolute. Behind him scurried his entourage of retainers and assistants, people handpicked from noble Houses of impeccable pedigree and loyalty to the Crown.

Presently he arrived at one of the palace's many public entrances—"public" in the sense that the nobles knew of it, not that the peasant rabble were ever allowed to approach. The prince had the air of a man eagerly awaiting good news. While he waited, he pored over sheet after sheet of paper, his eyes scanning its contents at lightning quick speed. His servants were quick to give him another set of papers every time he went and finished one sheet.

After putting away his latest, he held up a hand to stop the next. He sighed, and rubbed his tired eyes. Behind the fastidious application of make-up and a little bit of magic were clear signs of eye bags—proof of the Prince's current difficulties with procuring even an ounce of sleep. Nowadays, sleep was as rare to find as grain itself in the Kingdom, which made him laugh to himself, despite the fact that it was no laughing matter. Though it seemed that the Re-Estize Kingdom had presently shocked itself to activity from the stupor it had lain in since the Disaster at the Katze Plains, it still seemed like some half-starved, gangrenous, pus-laden mongrel on the street. And he was to be heir of this beast? It was no lofty ideal to assert that it was his sworn duty to see this Kingdom flourish, for his very survival depended on it. It was his duty to insist that the mongrel had every right to live; his duty to convince the rest of the world that its fangs had not dulled in the slightest.

A clatter from the front of the gates alerted him, and he pushed his most recent batch of papers back to his servant as he roused himself. He dashed down the steps from the entrance and watched with a faint smile as a familiar carriage came rumbling through the gates.

It was the Marquis Raeven, who had answered the summons to the Capital at last. The carriage rumbled over the rotunda and squeaked to a halt in front of the Prince and his entourage. The footman jumped from the front and smartly pried open the doors. From within emerged the expected nobleman—though conspicuously missing both wife and son. Zanac took note of that but said nothing as he came up to the man, his smile wide in greeting.

"We are honored and bolstered by your arrival, my dear friend," Zanac said, bowing respectfully as was proper.

"I apologize to his Majesty, and to you as well, my good prince," the elderly man said in a rumbling voice. Though some form of age and wear had overtaken his appearance, his eyes were still swift as a hawk's—alert to anything and everything. His gaze swept over the assembled servants, then on to the area behind them, conspicuously devoid of any other people. "I am glad to see my request has been fulfilled, Your Grace," he continued, nodding his head. "Aye, this is no time for pomp and circumstance."

It was customary for a leading noble from the Great Noble Faction to be formally received by the King with a full audience in a great, lavish ceremony. But that would have taken an hour or more of much ceremony and celebration, and in consequence they would be forced to expend a lot of precious time and money for it. The Marquis was well aware that his father the King was desperate for more of both, and so as a man who shared Zanac's ongoing concern for the nation's plight, he agreed to arrive in secret.

"You will forgive me for saying that I sought this request of you my Prince for reasons that are not wholly altruistic." The man absently peeled away his traveling gloves.

Zanac nodded. "I understand, my lord. It needed not be said. How is your family?"

Ever since the Battle at the Katze Plains, he and Renner had been trying to coax the Marquis back from his retreat in his private domain, as they needed his shrewd mind in dealing with the aftermath of that disastrous war. But it was understandable in a sense that a man who had personally witnessed such wanton, senseless slaughter would fold into himself without question. The man would undoubtedly feel fortunate that the gods had granted him a sliver of reprieve. Zanac knew that if he had been in the same situation, he would have certainly did the same thing. He would want to spend more time with his wife and his newborn son, and damn what the rest of the world said. In a war that had extinguished centuries-old houses into obscurity, being so keenly aware of one's delicate mortality was more than enough to break any man in two. And the Marquis valued his own family in the end.

Still, the man had returned here and now, for whatever reason of his own. Zanac suspected it was to quell the rumors of his becoming a "Marcher", an effective traitor to the Crown who dared declare independence from the Kingdom. In that case, Raeven was to be commended for going so far just to prove his loyalty—which was more than could be said for certain other nobles Zanac could name.

Raeven's face was thoroughly trained to be as inscrutable as can be, but a small flash of emotion still bled through upon the mention of his family. "As well as any man can hope for. I thank the gods for my good fortune every day."

"Mine own prayers go with them."

"I thank you, Prince Zanac. I will extend my prayers to your own family as well. Now then," he grunted. "Pray lead the way."

"Would you care for any refreshments to tide you over?" Zanac asked.

The Marquis gestured impatiently. "Thank you, but no."

"Are you really that concerned about them?" By this he was referring to the rumors about the Marquis Raeven.

"They are well within their rights to think anything of me," Raeven said coldly. "But to have the gall to accuse me of being a bloody Marcher? In another time I would have raised an army myself to avenge my honor on those responsible." Then he sighed, his fervor wilting. "But I cannot afford such risks anymore. I have many things dear to me now, and I'll be damned if I risk losing them to assuage my pride!" He raised his finger. "And as long as the King realizes I am no Marcher in truth, then I am willing to bear whatever insults they sling."

"And I shall be there to defend you, my lord," Zanac said earnestly. "And my father besides."

Raeven's gaze flicked to the man, and for a brief second it seemed as if he were sizing him up. Then he sighed. "Come then. I assume they have all assembled at the War Council?" Together the two nobles started back up the steps inside the palace.

"They have already begun since the news broke."

Raeven grunted. "It's very swift work for Pespea's boys. Or is it Litton's turn? I don't know who's leading who anymore."

Zanac smiled patiently. "It is the Marquis Pespea who leads now, along with some new faces—though I find you'll be familiar with them since their elevation in the faction. And yes, they have been very swift in assembling since the ultimatum was received."

Raeven shared a look with Zanac. "Yes, we can commend ourselves with our swift and ruthless response to this new threat to our nation." Both men couldn't resist scoffing in their own ways, as if they were sharing a joke they only knew.

For both men were very much aware that this situation had not been as unexpected as most other nobles believed. That these people had acted as quickly as they had did not speak to some form of patriotic zeal. Any fool would have seen that this was merely the culmination of a plan that had already been set up from the beginning.

"We were… fortunate," Zanac said, shrugging wryly. "We were… looking for ways to escalate without seeming to be the outright aggressor. And yet now…"

"Now the waters are muddied enough that the hogs may now fight without fear of being seen as the dirtiest in the trough," the Marquis finished. "Very commendable work. But is it even your work?"

Zanac stopped and looked around them. Then he replied in a dead whisper, "Truth be told, I am not sure. It worries me, in a way, that this was instigated without my knowledge. Are you sure you did not have some small hand in this, my friend?"

Raeven chuckled. "I'd no time to dabble in intrigue, my prince. And even I was unable to find anything substantial from my own little birds. All they can name is a place, a time, and a name. Whether or not it was Pespea's cat's paw or some other—maybe even the King's—we may never know."

"Regardless, this 'Philip' has given us an opportunity, however tenuous it feels," Zanac said.

"I don't like it," Raeven grumbled. "It lacks the elegance of a good scheme. It has the rampant fingerprints of incompetence on every inch of its surface."

"I agree," Zanac said. "But the die has been cast. Whether for good or will, we must now look to guiding our fair nation towards glory."

"Or its ruin."

"Glory or ruin, I shall be there every step of the way," Zanac said. "How about you, my lord?"

Raeven said nothing for a few moments as they walked along the corridors of the palace. They passed by many people as they went, who pointed and whispered at their passing. They did not give them any mind.

"Well at least we're not fighting undead this time," Raeven said. He shared a look with the Prince. "Though there are rumors that it may well be the reality again."

"What do you mean?" asked Zanac. "Do you refer to the agreement between the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown and the Holy Kingdom? While it is undeniable that they have become friendly with each other, we still also have our outstanding treaty with the Empire and the Sorcerous Kingdom. Should they violate it to protect the Holy Kingdom then it will be—"

"—A great war from which nothing will be spared," Raeven finished, with a grim look on his face. The other nations like the Slaine Theocracy or the City-State Alliance, who were already wary of the purported undead nation, would not fail to intervene at this point, of that much was certain. "Coalition against coalition, and at the end of it thousands will die for our sins. We may well be destroyed for it, my prince. Are you really that eager to see your legacy wilt before it can bloom? To be the Prince Who Should Have Been?"

Zanac blinked, a little taken aback by Raeven's sudden vehemence. "Naturally, that is why an unspoken agreement exists. Only madmen would dare bring the whole land into chaos for nothing but their own amusement. My dear marquis, you realize our position here, don't you?"

"I do, I do." Raeven stopped, and pressed his fingers to his eyes. For the second time that day, Zanac beheld a man who had aged far too early for his time. It slightly worried him to see the seasoned politician—once a bright and vicious schemer of plots—take on the appearance of a soldier who had lived his whole life by the blade. He suspected he would never understand the secret darkness that now lay behind the Marquis' eyes. "I apologize my dear prince," he continued. "I will be honest in saying I do not envy the tasks before you. And it is possible that my time in enthusiastically supporting you, and your father before you, may be coming to an end sooner than later. Perhaps my son may yet become the Marquis before his age."

"If that is the case, then I will welcome him gladly as I did you," Zanac insisted.

They now stood before the great doors to the War Council. The room had a storied history, going back to their great forebears who had forged their nation from nothing. It was in this hallowed space where the Re-Estize's history was forever changed—for both good and ill. Last time they had gathered to discuss the war with Jircniv's legions, and had expected nothing but the usual rattling of sabers, when the might of Ainz Ooal Gown had been nothing but a fantasy for the mad. Zanac now wondered if there was something else they were overlooking now, which would lead to another disaster they neither expected or wanted.

Raeven chuckled weakly. "Well, let's get this over with, shall we? I expect we'll have to do with some small pageantry before we can really begin, my prince. So while we still have daylight on our side, let's go in."

"After you, my lord."

---

There was indeed some small "pageantry" that occurred after Raeven had entered the War Council with Prince Zanac. Although his father the king had been informed of his return to the capital beforehand, he still had to make his apology to Raeven in as effusive a way as possible, especially in a public situation. That meant many minutes of bowing and exchanging vows of solidarity and loyalty, with the surrounding nobles shouting their heartfelt—or as near to the emotion as they could marshal—approval of the King's humility and Raeven's steadfast loyalty.

His father would announce that he had never had any doubts about the Marquis, and that he would always have faith in his loyalty to him, and that he would forever be indebted to him and his house. In turn, Raeven proclaimed that he was not a Marcher by any means, and that he would vow on his loins and any that would issue from them that the gods would strike him and his honored House down if he should ever prove himself false to the King and Crown.

The cynical would claim these was just an exchange filled with empty words for the sake of paltry ritual. But even something this small and overtly symbolic was itself a part of their plan. This was to ensure that any of those in the room who were still harboring dangerous thoughts—such as turning into a Marcher—were dissuaded from it by Raeven's submission to the King. Raeven opposed his father's faction in public, having long been a member of the Noble Faction. There had already been many rumors that his refusal to leave his domain was a symptom of rebellion, as it had with Brumrose. This public act of reconciliation in the privacy of the War Council was necessary for both their images: to reinforce the Crown's authority and to clear Raeven's name from doubt. Though this was done in relative secrecy, the nobles participating here would themselves spread the news far and wide.

Still, all that "pageantry" was still a long way off from solving their current problem—the Kingdom's downtrodden state and the looming war with the Holy Kingdom.

"Remind me gentlemen," Raeven said, while puffing on a pipe of strong Fleschette tobacco. "What exactly we know of the circumstances involving the paladins?"

After the reconciliation ritual, he had then met with the nobles who had come to the War Council, both from his and the Royal Faction. He had shared a few words with Pespea and Litton, former peers of the nobility. Then he exchanged formal greetings with the nobles who'd taken up the place of their fallen comrades, who had been recently elevated thanks to recent events.

"It is a damnable situation, and I do not think I can bear hearing it," Zanac's father said. "But I doubt all of you have heard what I have, so I shall listen to the account again, so everyone knows what's at stake here."

They were all seated around the large, oak table, its surface polished to a fine, gold-like sheen. The King sat at the very edge, his elderly, wizened frame all wrapped up in a stern countenance: a far cry from the doddering wreck that Zanac had encountered in the aftermath of Katze. Even with his advanced age he yet commanded the commanding presence of esteemed royalty—scion of the House that had forged Re-Estize through iron and blood.

Zanac himself sat on the far end of the table directly opposite his father. From this position, he could lay eyes on every one of the nobles who took up a prominent position on the War Council. Standing behind them were the minor nobles who bore the roles of scribes and retainers for the meeting—and it was to one of these that Marquis Pespea gestured.

The noble cleared his throat, adjusted his pince-nez glasses and read from a piece of paper in his hand. "If it pleases my lords, here then is the total information we have collated from all accounts.

"Less than a week ago, a convoy of traders helmed by citizens of the Holy Kingdom was traveling through the southern parts of our lands. We are also told this group was guarded by a contingent of paladins from the same order that pledges loyalty to that same nation. There are also some reports that an adventurer group was also present there, though we are still unsure as to who. We have reason to believe that Blue Rose was involved, but information from the Adventurer's Guild has not helped us reach a notable conclusion as to their involvement. It should be noted that as of this time we are still unable to contact Blue Rose at all."

"And we are quite certain those bastards haven't killed the Aindra scion themselves?" asked one of the major nobles.

"No, my lord, we are not certain."

"But it'd be hard to kill them, even with an army," reasoned another noble. "They're adamantite rank, among the strongest in the land. While the Custudio woman is formidable, even with the knights on her side it would still be a hard-pressed battle to contend with Blue Rose."

"But it's not impossible. I mean, why haven't we heard from them yet?"

"My pardons, but did you mention the 'Custodio woman'?" Raeven asked. He looked around the room. "I thought she was dead."

"You're thinking of the High Priestess," answered another noble. "This is Remedios, the former grandmaster of the paladin order."

"Ah, I see. Well, I hear she is quite formidable herself. I would not put it past her to overcome Blue Rose if she was well-prepared."

"We are getting sidetracked," Pespea rumbled. "Continue!"

"Yes, very good, my lord. To continue, as this 'caravan' was making its way through a certain territory, it was attacked by a large force of malcontents. These rogues were repelled after heavy fighting, though we can assume that there have been significant casualties among the Holy Kingdom. Thus, Remedios Custodios was forced to return to her country, bringing news of the attack. Two days later, an ultimatum arrived on the swiftest messenger from the Holy Kingdom. It was delivered to His Majesty the King and is presented as a list of demands from the ruler presumptive of the Holy Roble Kingdom. The list includes a demand for a public apology from the King about the incident, as well as the appropriate compensation for lives and goods lost in that incident."

Zanac recalled that they hadn't even known about the incident that Roble alluding to. They had been completely blindsided by the ultimatum, and it had taken the diplomats on their side to smooth things over and buy time while they scrambled to investigate. They had been long prepared for any sort of aggression by the Holy Kingdom, but this particular incident had missed them entirely. And obviously, admitting that they had no knowledge of the event would only make them look worse.

It was only after some of the facts had been verified that the ultimatum was formally acknowledged, along with the accompanying cautionary rhetoric and bluffs. Still, the Roble delegation had been given orders that there was no time for negotiation of any kind, and that the ultimatum was the "Holy King"'s final word on the matter.

"They demand that much?" A noble exclaimed. "This is an insult to His Majesty! An outrage! That fool has not even been formally anointed yet and he dares make such demands?"

"Absurd!"

"Ridiculous!"

"My lords, please!" Marquis Pespea said, gesturing to quell the rumble of discontent that had erupted. They all sounded like they wanted to personally draw their swords and defend his father's honor—to the death, perhaps—though one could never be sure if that was the real intent of their hearts. "Let us hear it to the end. Continue."

"Next, there is also a demand that the perpetrator of this attack be handed over to them for justice—though we are given the option to lay down our own justice on this nave, and if it is adequate then honor will have been satisfied in their eyes.

"And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, they demand that the Re-Estize Kingdom formally relinquish all claims to the disputed territories of Lavance, Tribuus and Kanteyuma, which are all held by various minor houses in our western fringes. There is to be a separate treaty regarding this transfer of land, in order to agree on such terms as, for example: that it shall be signed over to them in secure perpetuity, etcetera.

"If any of the demands are not met within two weeks—and by now it shall only be about four more days until the deadline—then a state of war will be said to exist between the Holy Kingdom and Re-Estize. Copies of the ultimatum have already been sent to the other nations, including the Baharuth Empire. For now, that is all the information we can reliably state." The noble paused and put down his paper.

"Huh, they really wanted this to be as public an evisceration as possible," Raeven said. "Airing out the King's incompetence so freely in the table of nations, which would make it almost impossible to reject."

"Marquis Raeven you speak out of turn!" A noble said harshly. Zanac knew he was in the Royal Faction, one of the new ones who were raised up after Blumrush's betrayal. "You are in the presence of His Majesty!"

"It is alright, let him speak," came the clear voice of his father. "I know that all of you understand that I am Re-Estize, and any perceived insult on me is also an insult to the nation."

There was a murmur of assent to the King's thought process. Zanac resisted the urge to scoff. He figured it really would not take too long for any of these nobles to turn coat if it suited them. It just so happened that none of them had the clout and the resources that Blumrush possessed. Furthermore, they had been caught here in the Capital without any means of escaping to their domain, making it impossible to even think about turning Marcher.

"Who is this instigator?" Raeven asked. "Do we know him?" Zanac knew he already had the information. He wasn't really sure why he was asking now.

"It is a foolish man who has brought us to this point," Pespea growled. "A brat from the Montserrat, and he even attacked right on his very soil! Not only foolish, and short-sighted, but incompetent as well."

"What have the Monserrats said?" said one of the nobles.

"They are aware of the facts, and have fingered their own scion for it. This 'Philip'… it appears he was the one who attacked that convoy."

"Are the Monserrats not a Marcher?" someone asked.

"At this point, they may as well be, if they want to escape the King's justice," said Pespea.

One of the nobles from the Noble Faction snorted. "The southern lords were always a little too headstrong and foolish. I would wager that if it were any other generation it would not be this Philip who would have singlehandedly hurled us against the Holy Kingdom, but his sire even."

"What happened to the child?" asked Raeven, waving the hand that held the pipe and making smoke coil outward in a spiral. "This… Philip?"

"The last word from our men at Monserrat says that the patriarch is keeping his willful son under lock and key," said a noble. He shrugged and shared a knowing look with the others in the room. "Ten to one he's lying and buying time until his son can flee down south to Slaine. Slime like that can't be trusted to keep things in order in the first place, who's to say they won't go the extra mile?"

"Were I him I would personally put a blade between his ribs," said another noble. "A fucking disgrace to my house. I would be ashamed of even apologizing to His Majesty; this is the sort of catastrophic blunder that no one can turn away from."

"We should take steps to secure the man responsible in any case," said another noble, a nervous-looking sort. "Perhaps we should commission an adventurer group too."

"Ah, let's leave him for later. The die's already cast. We can't waste time and men putting Monserrat to the sword. That'll come later."

"But, but…" the noble stammered. "How then are we to attempt keeping the terms with the Holy Kingdom?"

There was a great, deep silence after that. Everyone in the room, from the King down to Zanac stared at the noble. The man quailed, after realizing that he was suddenly the center of attention.

"H-have I..?"

"Keep the terms?" Pespea said incredulously, as if that noble had suddenly sprouted horns like some imp. Across from him, Raeven lit up another batch of tobacco on his pipe and puffed freely. "Why on earth would we do that?"

"The die's been cast," the noble from before repeated. He pulled at his collar repeatedly. "There's no walking from this."

"None of us would dare countermand our King and ask him to bend the knee to this upstart kingdom!" another noble.

"It is a painful thing to do, but if there is to be war, then so be it," said another noble, nodding in agreement.

"It's the right thing to do."

"It's smart."

"None of us in this room have any part with the western territories," said a hoarse-sounding noble, speaking for the first time. "But I'm sure they will all the more grateful to His Majesty for defending their integrities. I do expect they will be fighting all the more fiercely for that, as well."

"There is that."

"All of us here are ready to fight for the honor of Re-Estize, and for His Majesty—who is Re-Estize in all but name," Pespea said. "What sort of man—if man he be—would let these insults slide?"

"Careful my lord," Raeven said drily, with a noticeable smirk on his face. "For there are women here too are there not?" He tipped his pipe towards the assistant nobles standing behind them, some of whom were indeed female scions. Of course, no one who sat at the table was female. He addressed the one standing behind him. "What do you think Di Mayler?"

"The King is a wise man," she replied, curtsying to King Ramposa III. "And we shall flourish in all he does."

"There you see?" said Pespea, shrugging. "We are all united in this one firm conviction."

Zanac decided that now was the precise time when he would speak. He pursed his lips, took a steady breath, and summoned every ounce of gravitas that years of living as a prince could grant. He noted that Raeven wasn't looking at him at all, yet he had the distinct feeling that his attention was fixed on him. This was it.

"My lords," he began, arresting the attention of the entire room. "It is unfortunate that we have come to this most wretched crossroads. This is not the first time that our great kingdom has ever faced such a crisis, and I fear it shall not be the last. But let our hearts not waver from the most gargantuan task that lies before us. Though we trade away years of good will from our neighbors, though we are forced to endure trials and privations that would break any smaller nation, we pride ourselves in remaining resolute. We are assured that with our eventual victory, we can get one step closer towards mending the various rifts that tear at our Kingdom, allowing us to restore blessed order to our glorious nation." He suddenly stood in one swift motion, and bowed slightly to his father across the table. "And so, on my pride as Prince, I do earnestly suggest to His Illustrious Majesty: formally acknowledge the state of war with the Holy Roble Kingdom, and begin the preparations for the necessary conflict that is sure to come. I shall contribute all in my power to ensure Victory—Victory for the Re-Estize Kingdom!"

"Hear hear!"

"Hear hear!"

There came a chorus of shouts, of loud banging and stomping, and various cheers and claps. One by one, the other nobles stood and presented their own fervent suggestions to the King. Each and every one made it clear—they were all united in the desire to begin the conflict with the Holy Roble Kingdom, no matter the cost that may be incurred. Even the stammering noble, whom one might have expected to demur, presented his own halting support of the endeavor. With that, it was clear to everyone in the room, including his own father, that the nobles were indeed on the side of pursuing this war, despite everything.

Zanac watched his father, whose stern black eyes were gazing off into space. It was as if he was a million yards away, contemplating something only he could see. The man clenched his fist.

Zanac was under no illusions on his father's choice. Though he appeared outright reluctant, everything had already been arranged beforehand.

In their private talks before this meeting, Zanac knew his father viewed the ultimatum as something easy to fulfill. The risks of provoking another costly war far outweighed any perception of humiliation by bending the knee (figuratively) and acceding to all the demands with haste.

"We have been struck dumb by this most absurd event. It almost makes me think it was orchestrated, somehow," his father had said. "As if there is some sinister, invisible force that has latched its chain around our necks and now forces us into the maw of some terrible beast. We can but struggle futilely against this irresistible force."

His father's fatalistic words had chilled his bones, but Zanac could offer no words of wisdom. It was hard enough to find a way to strike back against the rebellious Blumrush, and now they had to marshal a suitable response to the ultimatum.

"Is it your wisdom, then father," Zanac had asked. "That we agree to this absurd list?"

"A big part of me does, my child," his father had replied. "It is the wise thing to do. After all, what do they want? Rightful reparations for something I could not stop. Perhaps we can negotiate the disputed territories, bargain them down in exchange for a trade deal. Gods know my kingdom needs that, badly. And it takes nothing from me if I go down on my knees and beg forgiveness. After all, worse comes to worse I can just abdicate and leave you with the mess. It's not ideal, but it gives you a fresh start, my son."

"Father," he'd said reproachfully.

The king sighed. "I have lived long enough to see the sense that my own father tried to drill into my head, time and time again. Our family, our dynasty, is everything. It is the one thing, the only thing, that matters. I have done as perfectly as he would have expected. I don't even think he did. And if I die tomorrow, then I do not think you will be able to do a perfect job, yourself."

"Please let's not be morbid, father."

"And Barbro…" The sad look that crossed his father's face was not something conjured. "Gods know he wouldn't have been able to realize this, not like you, Zanac. Foolish boy. I loved him dear, but…"

"Father."

King Ramposa did not speak for a long time. Yet Zanac waited patiently, knowing he had not yet been dismissed.

"And yet I have to do it," his father had then said, his voice tremulous but firm, unbending. "The country is already walking on a knife's edge, and it is all we can do to stop it from toppling headfirst into the abyss. I have talked to all who matter. All of them are baying for blood, for splendid opportunity, for glory. And I know you are of a mind with them, my son."

Zanac blinked. "Father, that is not—"

"I do not fault you," the king had insisted. "This is also a good opportunity for you to shine, to show the others that you indeed have the mettle to be my successor. And I wholeheartedly agree. I only lament that we are forced into this at all. Whoever or whatever it is that has guided our fate to this point… They are a cruel sort. But we must prevail, my son." He hesitated. "I trust you know what to do?"

"I have a plan," Zanac said carefully.

"That is good. Guide us well, my son."

In the present time, his father then stood, his spry, wizened form unbent by age. He waited a moment for the hubbub around him to dwindle down and ceased, until all the nobles waited for him in a tense silence. As the King he demanded his own attention, like the sun burning bright in the sky. All would acknowledge his august brilliance.

"My friends and fellows, We have heard your words and have felt the wisdom beneath each one. We too, grieve at the bloodstained path we must now take. Though it pains our heart, we know there is no other recourse. We will take this gauntlet thrown at our feet. As of this moment in time, a state of war now exists between the Re-Estize Kingdom and the Holy Roble Kingdom." He thrust out his hand in a commanding manner. "Send word of our intentions to the messenger. And send our own messengers out to our subjects! Announce our intentions to every loyal citizen of the Crown!"

"For the King!"

"Long live the King!"

As expected, the whole room erupted in loud, boisterous cheering. This lasted for a few long minutes, with everyone taking turns reinforcing their earlier words of loyalty.

"With that said, we must not waste time, my loyal lords," His father said. "We must now sit down and begin to plan our next moves as fast as possible."

"Of course, my King," Pespea said. He grinned, and shared knowing looks with the other nobles. "You shall be glad to hear that we have plans all readied for our use…"

---

"Thanks to our initial speculations, the preparations for our first phase of the war campaign is already underway." Zanac strode towards the small table, upon which was laid the map of the Re-Estize Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom to its left. There were small, colored figurines on top of the map, like chess pieces, and it was to these that Zanac pointed first.

"The land of Lavance, which belongs to Houses Trodior, Kariton and Brinmor, will be the main focus of our initial thrust. Much of the geography consists of wide, rolling plains flanked by the Stonesthrow Hills to the south, and the forested area of south Kanteyuma to its north. It is not connected by road to the Holy Kingdom, unlike the other border territories, which makes it an unfeasible means for counter-invasion by our current enemies. Therefore, we have all decided to make it our centerpiece for our own invasion."

He pointed to the colored pieces, of which there were four. "During their war with Jaldabaoth, we had already earmarked four small armies to garrison Lavance in anticipation of any sudden invasion by the beasts. In the aftermath, they remained there in case we needed to extend any overtures of goodwill and aid to them, which of course never came to pass. When we were all anticipating the impending conflict with them orders were given for that army to remain there. The Noble Faction also commissioned several mercenary groups and quietly sent them there." Prince Zanac pointed to another set of figures, colored differently from the representations of the army. "And then, when the ultimatum came, orders were sent to these groups to mobilize. As of this moment, the commanders are all riding there with all haste, and are expected to arrive within two days, gods willing. From there, they will quickly begin military operations against the Holy Kingdom."

"A question, if I may," Princess Renner asked, from her spot overlooking the small table. She smiled down indulgently at the map, as if the little figures planted on it were like cute little toys. "Do you truly intend to attack with only that small number of soldiers? I have no mind for military matters, but I do know the paladins of the Holy Kingdom were barely intimidated by the beasts who outnumbered them ten to one. Surely this paltry number would scarce frighten them to submission, let alone perform their intended function of warfare? You could only occupy a few towns at most."

Zanac smiled, and shared a look with Raeven. "Ah, but that is indeed the point, sister."

It was a full day after the War Council. Many things were already in motion. All the nobles once again mobilized their armies for war. Zanac, who was forbidden from taking to the field, occupied his time performing various tasks. Today, he visited his sister together with Marquis Raeven, to discuss current matters. She had wanted to be apprised of their plans involving the war. Zanac indulged her, as despite her claims to have little experience with military matters, she still possessed a frighteningly sharp mind. Though he had evaluated their current plans and had found them nearly foolproof, there was little to lose by sounding out his brilliant sister.

"Oh, do tell, dear brother."

"First of all, we know that the Holy Kingdom is hardly in a good position to field a sizable army to clash against ours. If they did indeed have something like that, then it would still take longer for them to mobilize completely. That gives us enough time to go over the border and secure the fringe towns on their side, and start fortifying them immediately. You recall that the issue of contested land also applies to them as well? They also have lands over which we have a rightful claim, and now is the best time to enforce them."

He moved the figurines over the map, and placed them each on three points on the enemy side. "We make a quick strike, on three particular towns here, here and here. We immediately fortify them, and brace for the attack that is sure to come. The armies are then to hold there for as much as possible before our main force arrives. Then we force them to a decisive battle—though that is another phase of the campaign entirely. And in all honesty, that's something for the field commanders to assess for themselves."

"Hm? But, dear brother, is there not a flaw in your reasoning?" Renner asked. "Why would you assume that the Holy Kingdom is as weak and unprepared as you claim? Have you received any intelligence on that front? Have you spies in their side?"

"Well, it is a reasonable assumption considering recent events," Zanac said.

"We're not even that better off," Raeven said, puffing on his pipe. He hissed. "That damned… massacre… left the country in no state to wage a long, protracted war."

"And it is precisely why we're acting swiftly and smartly, to force the enemy to the negotiating table as quickly as possible," Zanac responded. "We don't even want to press the disputed lands. We just need an infusion of resources, perhaps a trade deal or two. It would buy us enough time to recover our strength, perhaps even attend to the disorder in our own house."

Raeven sighed. "If it will come to a duel between opposing armies, then I'm not even sure if we can beat their paladins. Not even that army we brought to bear against the Sorcerer King would manage to beat Remedios and her ilk. And I don't think we have a trump card of our own. Unless… have we managed to contact Blue Rose?"

"No, my lord. But please be assured, we have discussed all possibilities as best we could," Zanac said. "The paladins are as bloodied as we are, that much is certain. As is the rest of their army, which was decimated by the treacherous demon. Sheer numbers will be our advantage. That, and picking our battles wisely. Luckily, we've able tacticians on our side."

"I hope you're not putting too much stock on those newbies," Raeven said. "I've read their credentials, and they don't impress me too much. A lifetime of studying military theory will never beat a year's worth of marching as an actual soldier." He raised a hand to forestall Zanac's protest, which he was expecting. "And I do know Pespea himself is leading the overall campaign, and he does have a cunning mind. But we overestimate ourselves, I think."

"Dear brother," Renner said, "I still feel that you are forgetting something. While it is true that the demon Jaldabaoth is said to have decimated the Holy Queen's armies in the north, is it not true that the southern nobles were therefore left relatively intact? They had little chance to engage once the Sorcerer King intervened on the Holy Kingdom's behalf, and thus they are expected to be, oh what is that ghastly term… 'unbloodied', right?"

"They were a factor in our planning, indeed," Zanac admitted. He glanced towards the land in question, the southern fringes of their enemy's territory. "However, it is quite likely that they would be reluctant in committing themselves fully to this war. It's all politics in the end. It is very telling that the new Holy King has yet to be formally coronated. It's been months, and there hasn't been any lavish ceremony reported. They will cite that they are still somehow recovering from the last war, but it is insulting for any presumptive heir to wait that long. If I were in his shoes I would question whether I am fit to even ascend the throne. And in this case, when there's still the slightest question of my proper ascension then there's definitely something happening behind the scenes. We can reasonably conclude that there are some difficulties on that end, and that the surviving nobles from the south have their own designs. There were even rumors that civil war was imminent!"

"Would the south join us, you think?" Raeven drawled, downing another shot of liquor from his glass. "Perhaps we can avoid bloodshed altogether, and more than that, the Holy Kingdom loses a sizable chunk of its land."

Zanac snorted. "That would be the ideal situation, but let's not kid ourselves. They are more likely to stand aside than involve themselves with us, let alone bend knee to my father. If they have some schemes afoot, then it is more likely they will declare their own country. And if that were the case, then that still leaves us in a better position. And a new trading partner perhaps."

"And gain a new enemy," Raeven said, sighing.

"If it comes to that, which I doubt."

Renner couldn't fault her brother's enthusiasm. This was his big chance to shine, and he had been working tirelessly to establish connections with all the loyal lords and ladies of the realm to bind them closer to him. As a result, he was made to support this endeavor wholeheartedly, even convincing their father that this war would help elevate his prominence in the court as a man to be respected once he became king.

But he had also become blinded by the prize he thought he was going to achieve from this. All his cunning and wit were turned towards cajoling and convincing lesser nobles to swear loyalty to the crown and support the war effort. Less thought was given to the reality of the situation—of the feasibility of the very plan upon which he had staked much of his reputation. Already he was becoming known down on the street as the "Daring Prince", for advocating this war publicly. Whether that had been something he had advanced himself or not, it had cemented his image for the time to come.

If he succeeded and the war was won, then he would reap vast rewards from the endeavor and the people would remember him for his daring, his tenacity to go against the odds. But should he fail, then he would be nothing but a warmongering loon, the prince who tried to seize what was beyond his grasp and failing miserably in the end.

And unfortunately for Zanac, Renner knew for a certain fact which way the dice would fall.

The Sorcerer King did not need to be allied formally to the Holy Kingdom to be able to aid its former partner. Renner knew that much, though the "sharp mind" that her brother admired her for would have never discovered it for herself. But she knew that much from her unique position as traitor to her country, a position of which she had no personal feelings whatsoever. Had she not been this so-called "traitor" she would have still deduced that the ongoing events seemed quite orchestrated, though she would never be able to correctly deduce its mastermind or the players involved without the appropriate data.

But here and now Renner could see the big picture. And so she could but pity her brother for his lofty ambitions. For he was fighting against a foe as pitiless as it was cunning, as implacable as it was invincible.

The representative from the Sorcerer-Kingdom, Albedo, had all but spelled out the means by which they would affect the outcome. They would provide material aid in the form of arms and supplies to the Holy Kingdom, all through means that did not involve needing to cross through Re-Estize territory. As such, they would be able to endure the war for much longer than them. If they wanted to, they could hole up in their towns and fortresses, feasting to their hearts' content while her brother's friends starved in hostile territory. And that was if the paladins remained content to sit back and merely watch. Well-supplied and high on morale, if they rode out they could inflict devastating ruin on them just as they had Jaldabaoth and his minions.

This, of course, banked on the assumption that Albedo's side could continue supplying the war effort for as long as they could. But it seemed certain that they had no qualms on that front, as they even had their vassal in the Baharuth Empire to draw upon.

And the Sorcerer King might even intervene himself. Perhaps not as openly, in order not to violate the treaty they had made. But she had heard the stories of the man seemingly appearing from out of nowhere, such as when he had appeared right in the middle of Arwintar, the Baharuth capital, inside an arena. No one had expected him, so what would stop him from just jumping around the cities, offering any sort of aid as he wished?

Yes, the outcome of this war was clear from the start. It was certain that the Re-Estize Kingdom would lose, and her poor father and brother would have to shoulder the consequences of declaring such a war. And with the country already torn apart in such a state, it was fair to say it would not be pretty to behold.

Renner wondered why they had chosen to side with the Holy Kingdom. Was it because of a difference in world view? That undead king should have loathed working with paladins who disliked them just as much as they did any heteromorph. She could only conclude that there was some deeper scheme in this: that the fall of the Re-Estize Kingdom would merely be a stepping stone to something much grander. And while she wasn't at all curious about that, the thought still brought a chill up her spine. It was a mixture of respect and curiosity—as one predator for another.

"You seem confident indeed, brother," Renner currently said. "I can only conclude that you are quite confident in the might of our armies on the field. Or perhaps you are putting too much stock on them? Have you an edge over the paladin-led forces of the enemy?"

"Strictly speaking, a one on one against a paladin is disadvantageous for our common soldier," Zanac said. "But their skills are geared more towards smiting evil things like monsters, not fellow human soldiers. And we have supplemented ourselves with mercenaries, and most of them will have been skilled workers and adventurers themselves. There are many ways to skin a cat, and it just so happens that those paladins are just a particularly dangerous type of cat." Zanac smiled at his own joke. "We'll be ready for them. Now," he said, clearing his throat. "I think I'm going to get some tea. I'm parched."

---

As was planned, it didn't take even one day for the orders to reach the garrisoned troops at the border towns before they began mobilizing. It took another day for them to start marching; with their current orders already having been sent a long time ago for this very moment. Another day after and they had already crossed over the border into the Holy Kingdom. There was no clearer acknowledgment of the state of war that now existed between the two nations.

The three armies separated before long, making a beeline for their respective targets. They encountered no resistance, and thus were able to proceed unimpeded towards the end. One after another, the three border towns on the Roble side were captured in relatively bloodless fashion. The locals offered no form of resistance whatsoever, and only watched sullenly as the invading forces took over every major structure. The armies were instructed to deal with these citizens in a matter most gentlemanly, and those rules were enforced to a relative exactitude.
There might have been some slip-ups here and there from the unscrupulous, but they were so minor that nothing was ever reported. The Prince and the nobles on the War Council were insistent on the leniency for a number of reasons, but the foremost of these was the need to peacefully integrate the towns into their demesne in case they could successfully press their claims. It painted a much better picture for their side if these towns weren't left as burning husks.

Each army left a small force to garrison the town. Then, the day after the occupation, they left to fan out towards the surrounding lands, seizing key positions and making camp on them. In effect, they fortified themselves for whatever reprisal was sure to come, while awaiting reinforcements from the capital behind them. Each army's commander was instructed to make the best of the terrain as possible, and that was what they did.

The mercenary groups arrived next, not long after. They reported to their respective destination towns, to confirm that they did not need to occupy those themselves (a contingency, if the unthinkable had happened). Then, they didn't waste time and immediately started moving further into enemy territory, towards the other towns that the regular armies were explicitly forbidden from occupying.

And so, the next phase of the Re-Estize Kingdom's campaign was revealed. This was the plan that Zanac himself had proposed to the War Council, a plan so secret that he hadn't even revealed it to his sister. It called for the mercenaries to start wreaking havoc wherever they decided to go, giving them carte blanche to raid, pillage, and do whatever they wanted to whatever town they went. It was to be a reflection of the chaos that was gripping Re-Estize itself, as if rogue bands had crossed over the border and started to devastate its neighbors as well.

Unbeknownst to the mercenaries, the Re-Estize Kingdom was poised to completely deny any involvement with hiring them, or claiming responsibility for whatever damages they were going to inflict. They would wash their hands clear of their involvement, and at the negotiating table anything they would have done would not be Re-Estize's burden to take. It didn't matter if these mercenaries were captured and subsequently interrogated; their words would be disregarded as mad ramblings. They would point to their own troops sitting dutifully at their assigned posts, accomplishing their roles. They were only to make a point, and had no designs to plunder or take over territory. In this, Zanac drew on his father's wisdom.

The nobles at the War Council hailed it as a brilliant master stroke. With this they would not even need to commit their men to battles. The other side was obviously still recovering from their most recent war, and could not afford to prolong it. Emissaries were to be in close contact with the enemy, emphasizing that they only wanted favorable terms, not unnecessary bloodshed. They would even volunteer to "clean up" the "bandit" problem as a gesture of good faith. Raeven claimed in his cryptic manner that this was one of the methods employed by certain unsavory nobles with connections to the Eight Fingers. None, even Zanac, were able to perceive his meaning, and even disliked the association with a criminal group. In any case, whatever reservations they had for essentially throwing those groups to the dogs was offset by the fact that they were considered as almost equal to dogs already.

And that they had already been paid, all things considered.

When the first of the reinforcements arrived, led by Marquis Pespea, there was yet no sign of any Holy Kingdom force here or on any other place near the border. When the news was carried back through Message back to the Capital, there was much rejoicing, particularly in the prince's private chambers. The Holy Kingdom's response was slow as expected. There was some speculation that there may not even be a response to the declaration of war, and that the Holy King (presumptive) could not even summon any decent army to fight them off; and further, that there was soon to send a messenger suing for peace.

As such, there was even dangerous talk that they should press on, further inwards, capturing as much territory as they could hold for an even greater bargaining chip. A few even pressed to go forward towards the Capital, capturing it and there achieve a coup to reap a much bigger reward for themselves.

Zanac and Raeven were quick to dissuade such dangerous thoughts. The mercenaries had already been sent, after all, and to move the armies forward would upturn the carefully laid plans that had already been set in motion. They would no longer be able to ascribe the mercenaries' handiwork as their own: enough confusion would make it equally as likely for their forces to have burned down this town or massacred these people.

"Don't those fools realize that?" Zanac ranted in private to his sister. "They expect Pespea to ride down to the capital and claim it for Re-Estize. What rot! I have no idea why they're so silent, but now is not the time for us to become complacent!"

"Do you not think you are being overly cautious, brother?" Renner asked. "Perhaps people would say you did not have the courage that our late brother possessed."

Zanac's eyes flashed. "Please don't test me, sister. I've had enough placating those mindless fools outside and preventing them from saying any more than is necessary. The Holy Kingdom's relative inaction could be some form of stratagem." He pointed down to the map. By this point, enough reinforcements had arrived at the border, and were now scattered across towns and forts on their side, ready to send word should the Holy Kingdom send a force in. "Perhaps they don't wish to engage us at those border towns. Indeed, a quick raid into our chaotic land would be a good stroke of genius, because we don't even have enough troops back here at the capital to defend. Oh, certainly we can pull back and pursue them—but what if that's what they want? They wait for us to peel our forces back in haste, and swing with the hammer down on our invasion force. No, no, those towns are our key. We hold onto them for as long as we can."

"You seem to have thought this through, brother," Renner said placidly.

"I have to," Zanac snapped.

Unfortunately, any thoughts of resolving the war in a quick manner were dashed when the Holy Kingdom's response finally came after a few tense days of waiting. Pespea received the news when a few survivors from a mercenary group came limping to their camp, claiming that the Holy Kingdom had sent their own armies to stop their rampage through the countryside. They were essentially wiped out quickly, without even being able to give the enemy a good battle. Pespea had these mercenaries quietly executed to the side as he readied the scattered armies for an engagement.

Not a day passed before they were sighted, and it was then that the Marquis decided that this was no attempt to parlay with them. The Holy Kingdom had brought several formidable armies to the fore, at a number that Re-Estize definitely had to take seriously. Pespea hastily regrouped and attempted a defense using the fortifications they had built up. He sent word to the other nobles commanding the rest of the army at other parts of the front to dig in and hold the line.

Unfortunately, this only exposed a crucial flaw in their battle formations. With the way they had planned their defense, their army was unfortunately spread out among three different sections, each at a considerable distance from the other. It took close to an hour to travel between their three locations. When their scouts determined the approximate number of the enemy force, they were surprised to see that they had consolidated into one massive group that was heading straight for just one area. Needless to say, the force that was waiting for them would be soon overwhelmed.

Pespea was therefore forced to call for an immediate retreat. Unfortunately, the army that was directly in the way of the Holy Kingdom force was quickly routed before the orders could be verified. In the hasty, chaotic retreat, scores of arms and supplies were left behind to be collected by the enemy, depriving Re-Estize of crucial resources.

Fortunately, the brief battle bought them enough time to collect the remaining two armies, plus the garrisons from the towns, into one army that matched their enemy in numbers. Unfortunately, they lost the advantage of numbers that would negate the strength of the enemy paladins. Just as unfortunate, their current position was in disadvantageous land: a sort of valley from where the Holy Kingdom could just seize the upper reaches and rain down chaos and destruction on them.

Left with few other choices, Pespea ordered a complicated maneuver that broke off sections of the army to start moving piecemeal in a certain direction. Their goal was a much better defensive position closer to the border. In this, they were successful, as the enemy forces had paused to secure the town that was closer to them. Still, a few skirmishes erupted between mounted scouting units on both sides, each with varying results.

However, their misfortunes did not end with just that. For the enemy had secretly sent their most elite force of paladins, including the famed Remedios Custodios, to the exact location of their intended defense. Their horses were swift and covered much ground on the even terrain, which was as much an advantage to them as the retreating army.

It took Pespea a while to realize that about an eighth of his army had been ambushed by this impromptu force, cutting through what should be the seventh of eighth portion of the army that had been made to retreat. As expected, that portion of the army folded quickly from the sheer force of the charging paladins, not to mention being caught flat-footed in a retreat. The resulting commotion brought the other sections of the army charging right back to reinforce their fellows.

But the damage had been done. Remedios and her cronies retreated from the fray, leaving much devastation in their wake. Those who had come to the aid of their ambushed comrades were enraged, and refused to follow orders as they charged blindly after the departing paladins. Those who were left had to see to the wounded quickly, even as another relief force came up from behind to join them.

Unfortunately, this left just under half of the retreating army devastated or off pursuing the enemy. Upon assessing the situation, Pespea had no choice but to sound another retreat—a final, humiliating one back over to their side of the border.

News of the disastrous defeat came promptly back to the Capital. Zanac felt his soul leave his body, and sequestered himself inside his room. The mood in the palace, which was once jubilant and confident of their victory, instantly soured.

"All things considered, it's not that bad," Raeven said, later. He yawned and refilled his cup with liquor. "We didn't lose much. Pespea and the others were able to see that it would be difficult to maintain their positions in the face of such numbers. So they pulled back. Gave themselves breathing room and retreated in good order. Not a lot of casualties as was reported, and they're even still itching for a fight. We weren't beaten—this was just a tactical withdrawal."

"Thank you for cheering my brother up, my lord," Renner said with a smile.

Unfortunately, matters at the front escalated beyond, easily outstripping the pace at which news came traveling back to the Capital. By the time they'd heard that the Holy Kingdom had crossed the border, the next piece of news was already being sent—to inform the King that the towns in the border territories had been occupied. Unable to marshal a good position—and unwilling to commit to a battle with such inferior numbers—Pespea had been forced to order a general retreat to the border forts, where they solidified the defensive line.

The Holy Kingdom was quick to pursue, as if they were attempting to overtake the retreating armies and wipe them out. However, the terrain and unfamiliarity with the surrounding lands slowed them down, giving Re-Estize some breathing room. Their rapid advance was halted just in view of the areas around the forts up and down the border.

It was a stalemate, which was reassuring to those at the Palace. But Zanac could plain see that this time it was their lands that were now invaded, their towns being occupied. Though they had been able to stop them cold, they were still at a major, glaring disadvantage. Pespea now petitioned the King to authorize another War Council using Message, a dangerous affair that would most certainly have a high chance of being leaked to the enemy spell casters. But at this point, the only alternative was the nobleman leaders returning to the Capital in haste, leaving incompetent captains in charge of the defense of the homeland.

Another day passed with no movement across the new border. Neither army was willing to commit to a battle, and instead stared at each other from a healthy distance. There were certainly smaller scale engagements between isolated scouting groups, each sent out in an attempt to probe some weakness or fault. These never led to anything decisive, and so a bloody game of cat-and-mouse ensued, each in an attempt to goad the other side to act first. Yet neither army refused to be baited, and remained resolute on their side.

The Kingdoms War, as it was being called, had grinded to a halt.

---

The nobleman paced in front of the wall, and looked down over the valley at the enemy camping on the far end. He strutted with some self-importance, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside him, smart-looking men in armor carried his helmet and his sword. A few other soldiers in full armor stood stiffly to the side, some bearing long bardiches.

"When will the Marquis give the word?" the man said impatiently. "We've got the fools right where we want them!"

"My lord, in our case, the terrain does not favor us," said one of his advisors. "The enemy is located behind several hills and a steep rocky slope, making it difficult to approach. It is only fortunate that it works both ways."

"Enough, enough!" the noble said, snapping his fingers. "Do you think me a fool? Of course I realize that. But we look like fools sitting up here, unable to do anything!"

"Hum…" Ainz snapped his fingers. The image of the noble disappeared in a flash, replaced with another.

"Move! Move! Move!"

Paladins in white elbowed their way through the jeering crowd, until they reached the source of the chaos. There, on the ground, the two men were locked in a vicious struggle—teeth flying, blood spraying all over.

"Kill 'em!'

"Gut 'em!"

"Yeaaaah…!"

"That's enough!" boomed the voice of the head paladin. "How dare you disgrace the name of the Holy King!"

Ainz sighed, and snapped his fingers again. The spell of remote viewing shifted to another view. He reached over and dipped his hands in the plate of fruits laid on the table next to him. He popped a few choice berries in his mouth, and chewed absently as he switched through the many views displayed before him, as if he were a normal human in his world browsing through the channels on cable.

There were a group of people, skirmishing. Two scouting parties that had chanced upon each other on both sides of a ridge and ended up fighting. The battle had just about ended.

A lone paladin, his armor matted with blood, slung the heavy, bloodstained body of his companion on a horse. With a loud, albeit pained cry, he caused his mount to start galloping. Behind him were the broken, bleeding corpses of men bearing the standard of the Holy Kingdom.

Not far from them were a group of haggard warriors from Re-Estize. They watched the paladin's flight with bleary, tired eyes. One of them took up a bow from a slain corpse and started to aim an arrow at the fleeing paladin. Then the man grunted and flung the bow away, making it snap against a rock.

"Gather what loot you want," said one of them, looking around. "But make it quick. We don't want to wait for even more of those Roble fuckers!"

"Aye!"

He snorted and shifted to another view.

"The banner! Get the banner! Get the fucking banner!"

The man struggled through the mud as the fighting around him intensified. He crawled over the bodies of the fallen, scraping his hands and his face against the jagged edges of their armor and mail.

With gritted teeth, he closed his hands around the flagstaff containing the banner of House Brinmor, proud servants of the King. He shuffled to his feet, his body trembling from exhaustion. He raised the staff to a standing position, allowing the mud-stained banner to hang limply from the top like an old rag, its once gleaming colors dulled by mud.

"For the King!" He roared, raising the sword in his other hand in defiance. "The King!"

He saw several silver-armored paladins approach, their swords bared, gleaming despite his comrades' blood staining its edges. He brandished his own sword in defiance, and prepared to fight.

He sighed and drank a long pull of the drink on his mug.

He had been spending the better part of the day just observing the little stand-off between the two Kingdoms. He had been doing this on and off over the past week, ever since Albedo had reported to him that war had erupted between the two nations. Like some gossip, he had been eagerly following the developments, using his power to take a peek on both sides and generally observing them. He had even gone so far as to allocate Nazarick resources to monitor the situation personally and contact him if there was anything interesting to see.

Though he had been present in some pretty major battles himself, it was far more fascinating to watch them from a comfortable distance, drinking tea and munching on food. Sometimes one of his lovers could even be present, servicing his cock, though he never did it while he was watching people, just some landscapes (that would have been weird). Other times he even literally fell asleep on his chair.

At the start, it had been interesting just watching them move along. He had especially been taken at how the Holy Kingdom had mobilized so quickly, with literal armies springing up from the cities as soon as the news broke. It was as if they had been prepared for the war from the start. He could see places he had visited as the sorcerer Ainz Ooal Gown, and even recognized a few of the soldiers. Sometimes he even spotted that Remedios among them, and wondered if she was still as rude as when he had met her.

They had then proceeded to battle against each other in several pitched battles, and it was quite interesting to watch them all in the relative safety of his room, as if he was watching some old war movie from his own world, only this time with actual people and actual bloodshed and carnage. He felt sorry for the many lives that were lost there. But since this all served to benefit Nazarick in the long run, he couldn't find it in himself to care much.

Recently, though, recent events in the war had become a bit of a snorefest. Those two sides were just staring each other down the many miles separating them and doing pretty much nothing else. Neither one of them were moving for whatever reason, as if they were just waiting for the other side to take the first action. Oh, there were certain parts of their army that fought in battles, but they were usually brief affairs.

Snap.

There was a soldier taking a shit—

"Ugh." Snap. He sighed and released the spell. He stood up and stretched, enjoying the feel of being liberated from hours of sitting down. He wondered how his lovers thought of it all. He had taken the liberty of ordering his liches to set up a rotating shift of casting the spell of remote viewing and displaying it at the Mother's Hall, so that they too could watch over the war between the Kingdoms from the relative, snug safety of their seats. It was a rather interesting way of hearing out their opinions, particularly of those whom he'd brought from outside, like Keeno or Neia.

Each had expressed their differing views on the ongoing war. For example, Zesshi had been forthright in saying that it was all just a lot of "pageantry" between stuck-up peacocks with nothing to their names. Clementine had said that the mercenaries who'd been struck down had been stupid, claiming that even she would not have been stupid enough to join their ill-fated lot.

Keeno had said that while war was always a distasteful thing, no matter who it happened to, there was nothing to be done about it. Though she did express concern that Blue Rose didn't seem to be present at all. Calca and Kelart had kept their opinions to themselves, but it was clear that the two were very much shaken by the war that now engulfed their former homes. Lasty, Neia expressed her disappointment that things had happened the same way, and was clearly rooting for the Holy Kingdom to win. Ainz thought that if her father had still been alive then he would have definitely had to exert a little influence to ensure his survival.

"I need a bath," he murmured to himself with a yawn. Technically he would still be able to use the spell of remote viewing while immersed in a hot, luxuriating bath. The thought rather appealed to him.

As he made his way down the corridors of Nazarick to his destination, he spotted a figure in the distance. She was standing alone, out in the open, her back to him. She was staring up at the sky—or at least the facsimile of it, blue and wide, with small wisps of clouds scattered about like cotton.

It was Calca Bessarez, the former Holy Queen. She wore a robe of light turquoise, and it shimmered as if faintly reflecting the sky above. The fabric hung loose over her body, exposing and hiding her gorgeous curves and features in intervals whenever she moved. Her buxom figure was further enhanced by the proof of a small baby bump on her abdomen, proof that he had actually succeeded in quickening his seed inside her womb. Previously he had been rightfully worried that something about the resurrection spell or some other factor had changed the way her body works irrevocably. But he was greatly relieved that he was proven wrong in the end.

The former Holy Queen looked quite beautiful from this distance. Her pale, creamy skin, a product of her strict beautifying regimen, had this healthy glow to it. It was enhanced even more by the aura of gentle motherhood that settled around her. Perhaps it was due to her "relative" age, but she appeared the most motherly among his lovers, even despite the fact that Zesshi and Narberal would far outpace her in terms of being an actual mother.

After thinking on it some more, he turned his feet towards her and approached. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, causing Calca to freeze up and turn towards the source of the sound. Her surprised face melted back into serenity—though Ainz could plainly see the hint of worry that could be clearly seen in her brows. He was getting better at reading people's faces at this point; especially those of his lovers, who showed myriad expressions—though mostly during sex.

"Hello there, my dear Calca," he said, smiling down at her. Calca returned his smile weakly, and curtseyed.

"My lord."

"I was curious about you," he said, clearing his throat. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

"Oh, it's…" Calca turned her head away. "It's nothing. Truly, my lord. Nothing you need to be worried about."

"Is that really true? Come on, you know you can trust me." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "At this point, you know you may rely on me for anything I can conceivably give you. So have no fear. Unburden yourself to me, my dear queen." His arms shifted behind her and he pulled her close to him.

Calca sniffed, and hid her face from him in the crook of his arm. He felt her warm tears against his skin. All things considered, it didn't feel uncomfortable at all.

"Ainz-sama… If what you say is true…" she said, through hiccups. "Then will you please allow me to return? To become the Holy Queen once more?"

Now that request made him raise his brow. On the surface, Calca and Kelart were being kept here because they were interesting to Ainz, and also because Nazarick's current plans for the Holy Kingdom didn't involve them in any capacity. Bringing them back would upset a whole stock of preparations that had been crafted since the whole Holy Kingdom endeavor. While he thought they could definitely afford it, it was still going to be a huge waste, and a pain to clean up afterwards.

There was also another, albeit more personal reason for Ainz. He had grown fond of his lovers, each appealing to them in their own unique ways, and he was reluctant to put them out into the outside world for whatever reason. For one thing, it was a great security risk, which Ainz was averse to. And secondly, they would be operating far outside his vicinity. Though they were never quite so "far" that he couldn't just use Gate to come to them, that was still a wide enough distance that anything could happen to them or the babes. And he was never one for taking risks if the alternative was available. In this case, though he was definitely able to guarantee their safeties, it was still a considerable drain on his resources that were better devoted elsewhere. The distraction would also cut into his work, and he rather preferred not being stressed over losing any of his lovers or children.

This was why he had requested Neia to come with him, and had asked undying loyalty and devotion from Keeno. Though he had allowed them to come with him from out of their own free will, he nonetheless had to bind them with promises that they would never even think of returning, and that discussing such a thing was something he didn't like to do. Small excursions, such as the one Keeno requested a while back, were okay—but only just.

He cleared his throat. "Ah, well…" He cast around desperately for something to say. "What… what brought this on?"

"Oh, Ainz-sama, I can't bear it! I just can't bear it! I cannot stand to… stand to…" Her sobbing intensified. "I… *sniff* I… have to be the Queen again…! I have to protect… guide… my country…! I don't want to see… See it go down… In history…!"

Ainz had nothing to say to that. It seemed Calca still retained some feelings of attachment and longing for her old life as the Holy Queen. He knew they had explained to her and Kelart that they would never be able to return there, and so he hadn't ever figured on having to confront the question if it was ever raised again, like this very moment.

He had to take this slowly. "Calca, my dear," he began, as he rubbed her back gently. "How should I say this… We've already talked about this before, remember? You even agreed, you and Kelart. You can't go back to the Holy Kingdom anymore. Neither of you can. Do you understand? That chapter of your life has been closed… forever."

"But…! But..!"

He gripped her chin, making her look up to him. "I need you to look at this from the perspective of those you left behind. They already think you died. Or worse, that demon took you two away and did unspeakable things to your bodies and souls. So what if you then return, none the worse for wear, as if nothing had ever happened? They'll be suspicious, my dear. They won't believe that such miracles exist. Worse, they might even try to assassinate you, believing you're evil or tainted or something. You know exactly what I'm referring to; don't deny that such behavior exists. And I can't have that happen to you. To both of you. And especially," he reached down and patted the front of her belly. "Not to our child," he finished in a softer voice. "I don't ever want that to happen. Never."

"Oh, Ainz-sama…" She looked up at him with her eyes red and watery. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry, I've just been a bit selfish. I have to cherish what I have now, especially this miracle that has been granted to me. But I still can't help but think… It's my fault, isn't it…? All my fault for being so weak, for allowing my country to fall to such a state… And now, when it's not even a year since you defeated Jaldabaoth, not even a year since my people suffered… Now they're being forced to spill blood once more… And all those people in the villages, what those scum did to them..! I can only just keep watching, unable to act!"

Ainz knew she was referring to the initial movements by the Re-Estize army at the beginning of the war. He had observed through the spell of remote viewing that some parts of the army had charged on ahead. Apparently, according to the reports they were auxiliaries hired by the Kingdom because of a distinct lack of manpower for their armies. He had been curious about their plans, before the spell showed that they had simply started rampaging through the towns like maddened beasts, burning and looting and destroying wherever they went. The sight disgusted him so much that it soured him somewhat on the Re-Estize Kingdom, despite his commitment to being neutral about the whole affair.

He had seen such sights of barbarity that he would have readily agreed with most of the Nazarick NPCs that humans were less than worthless scum. It was because he had borne witness to such senseless tragedies that he had intervened at Carne Village at the very start, and it took all his willpower not to do the same here. He saw babes torn from their mothers' arms, proud buildings burning down to ashen husks, women tortured and violated before being slain, and blood flowing freely like rivers through once thriving streets. This was the sort of madness that made the small, human part of him recoil in disgust. The monstrous part of him felt nothing, but that was even more dangerous—he would feel nothing for exterminating them all just like the NPCs.

That's why it had been oddly gratifying to see Remedios riding along with the army that had swept in suddenly, smashing into these monsters and visiting righteous retribution on them all. They had swept through the lands, "cleaning house", as it were, and stemming the flow of blood that had been left all over the place.

Calca's agony about her former kingdom was also an understandable sentiment for Ainz. As he too was a sort of monarch of his own domain, he could empathize with the outrage one must feel in seeing any part of it be damaged or violated, especially if one was powerless to affect it in any way. In this case, Calca's literal and figurative "death" as the Holy Queen should have severed her connections and sentiments for her old kingdom. But the recent war had only brought it back, burning hot and fierce, and in a way he couldn't fault her for it.

In fact, he had even entertained thoughts of just pulling the trigger and having the plans for the Re-Estize Kingdom shift to one of Demiurge's "backups". He could do all of that with but a snap of his fingers. But he abstained from it in the end, as it all didn't seem worth it just for the sake of fulfilling his emotions. So long as none of Nazarick was affected by the events, he was content in letting things run through to their natural course.

Before he knew it, many moments had passed, and eventually her crying died down. Ainz looked down at her and rubbed over her back gingerly. It was a relief that she had calmed down by herself, but he still didn't know what to say exactly to Calca. He couldn't exactly promise reprisal on the Re-Estize Kingdom, because he knew that in some way Keeno would find out. And while Keeno didn't seem all that outwardly concerned for her former home, Ainz also didn't want to have to ask her permission to politely torch her old home with a snap of his fingers. Especially not while her comrades, Blue Rose, were still there as well.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Ainz-sama," Calca said. She gasped and shuddered. "I beg pardon for showing you my unsightly self—"

"Hey, enough of that," he urged, cupping her head with both hands. He swiped his thumb over her drying tears and smiled. "I'm not upset. Not at all. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm only sad that…" He shook his head. "That I can't really do much to help you. You can't go back to the Holy Kingdom, and I can't really use my position to intervene. I have to use my position responsibly after all. Don't you agree?"

She pursed her lips and nodded shakily. "Y-yes. It is at once a burden and a privilege to exercise that much power that you hold in your hand. I understand that all too well, Ainz-sama." She sniffed and gave him a wide, if watery smile.

"How about this," he said, after thinking for a few moments. "Maybe you need some time to relax. Unwind. Visit some places outside this place, for a day. Or two. Take Kelart with you, and anyone else who wants to go, whatever you decide. Go somewhere nice, where you can relax. A lovely beach, maybe, or a cottage with some scenic view of the mountains. I think we even have one on top of a mountain, but it's gonna be cold outside so I don't want you going out into the cold with the babies. …Though didn't you have those winter clothes you bought before?"

His honeymoon outings with Zesshi and Neia had taught him the importance of being familiar with a sheer multitude of places. It was a way to enhance their times together (and by extension enhancing the ensuing lovemaking), as well as a legitimate means of "getting away" from work or anything else. He was proud for having scouted an innumerable number of vacation spots. So far, most of them were yet unused, and were simply waiting for the ripe time when he would celebrate something with his lovers, or if he was entertaining something new.

He would gladly allow any one of his lovers to go to these secluded vacation spots, especially if they were feeling "down" as Calca was in this moment.

She suddenly giggled, surprising even him.

"What?"

"Oh, my pardons, it's just…" she hid her smile behind her hand. "You mentioning our babies so casually… It just reminds me that I also still have some sort of responsibility there too. So in a way, I have still assumed responsibility for someone else's life. It just so happens this time it is my own flesh and blood—our child." She leaned her head against his chest. They stood there in silence, just listening to each other breathe.

"So…" he started. "Are you gonna go? You could decide now if you want. It's gonna be easy."

"Hmmm…" Calca said in a singsong voice. She looked up at him. "Let me think about it, my lord." Then she closed her eyes, and he took the cue. Her lips tasted salty, but he didn't care. She kissed him fiercely, as if she was transferring all of her dark energies towards him. And he accepted it all, kissing her back with equal fervor, to show her that his passion for her would never fade.

Eventually, it was clear that their kissing had aroused them both, as they began to feel each other up in a more intimate, passionate manner. When Calca's soft hands drifted down to palm at his crotch, he knew that was it.

He pulled back from the kiss, and gently peeled her dress upward. As expected, she wasn't wearing anything below the dress, which meant he could see her gorgeous body and creamy skin directly. He leaned down to swirl his tongue over her nipples, which had darkened since the start of her pregnancy. He caressed the smooth bump of her belly, and the feel of her smooth flesh on his palms made him giddy with desire.

They locked gazes. There was no need to waste any time with words. He led them to a corner of the place, then wove a quick spell around themselves to hide them from inquisitive eyes. Then he turned her around so her pale bubble-butt was pointed towards him. He felt her pussy and delighted to feel the moisture that was practically oozing from her lower lips. She was more than ready.

"Ainz-sama… Mmmmpphhh…"

He kissed her again, while fondling her ample, pillowy breasts. She was so beautiful, and he felt proud for having added her to his group of lovers. He aligned his hot, eager member against her sex and claimed her, as was his right.

---

After a while, Calca went off to the mother's hall, escorted by a couple of maids. He discreetly ordered the lich on duty using Message that the spell of remote viewing focus on anything other than scenes of bloodshed or destruction. It was now a bit more important to spare her or anyone else with the same sort of grief that had descended on Calca. He didn't mind his lovers depending on him, but he couldn't really handle all the weeping that would ensue.

With that done, he turned and went down his original path to the baths.

He had to admit, that little quickie had been very refreshing. It had been spontaneous and unplanned, and there had been little in the way of any romantic overtures or amorous pining that usually preceded his encounters. It was just an abrupt meeting of desires, as easy as flipping a switch, or casting a spell. In one moment, he'd been comforting the Holy Queen, in the next he was plugging her royal cunt with his divine scepter. That they had actually stopped after one mutual orgasm, reining in their passions like flipping another switch, was not as unbearable as he'd expected. It heightened his pleasure, as if the moment between them had been some sort of guilty secret.

In any case, he was glad to send Calca off with a satisfied smile on her face. Outwardly she didn't even look like she'd just received a fresh hot load of Ainz baby jelly inside her pussy. The faint hint of sweat glinting on her face and the small strands of hair poking free from her groomed tresses were the only hint of their brief, intense quickie. As she walked off with the maids, neither maid was able to tell that something was off.

Maybe he should do this more often.

He reached the outer foyer leading to the baths. He unequipped his items and put them in his inventory. He rubbed his shoulders, and could already imagine the pleasure coming from soaking himself in the hot water, the pleasant sensations soaking right into his muscles. He couldn't wait. Then. right as he was walking down the tiled corridor towards the actual baths, Shalltear appeared from inside one of the rooms.

She was wearing nothing at all aside from the towel wrapped around her head. Her skin was pale and glossy, glinting from the bath she must have just used. Her pert boobs ended in cute, pink areolas that stood out in contrast to her skin. Her slender, nymph-like body was also heavily pregnant—with her belly of five months making her look like she had comically swallowed a cannonball or a watermelon. At the sight of him, her eyes lit up like the sun.

"Ainz-sama! What a coincidence! Or was it not? Hum, I do not know if I told anyone I was using the baths."

This was bad, in his opinion. As he looked upon Shalltear's naked form, the lust that had been sated partially by his little quickie with Calca was rising back up again. Soon, he was sure his dick would also start rising up, and he was damned sure Shalltear was going that up (plus his dick, naturally) for all it was worth. And he wasn't sure if a "quickie" with this one would be anything more than a quickie. She was like quicksand, and if he dared to step one foot inside there was no escaping.

Time to take it slow.

Ainz raised a brow. "Hello there, Shalltear. Knowing you, I bet you've got those vampire minions of yours in there soaking up." It had been something of an issue with the other mothers, who also had exclusive access to the baths. They had complained that Shalltear always kept leaving vampire brides in there, after she'd had her way with them. "Like trash," it was even said. And as expected, only a few of his lovers tolerated such a sight, like Solution Epsilon or Lupusregina Beta. Albedo was the most outspoken in having Ainz denounce this behavior, likening it to "leaving trash in the bathwater". Ainz didn't really agree, but he did prefer his privacy when he wanted it "Go wake them up and take them away, would you please."

"Oh, my apologies, Ainz-sama, but they're not there. I went in alone."

He rubbed his chin in thought. "I see. Well, that's good."

It was then that Shalltear moved closer, swaying her hips suggestively. He was glad he was able to suppress the shudder that ran through his body. "But since you're actually here, Ainz-sama, perhaps now would be a good time for us to have a little lovey-dovey time together…? Let us not squander this opportune moment that fortune has granted us, my lord. We do not know if this was something your divine presence intended, or if it was something else, but fortune smiles upon us regardless. Let us celebrate this moment in due, glorious fashion."

She batted her eyelids and pressed her body against him, practically rubbing the front of her baby bump against his groin. He wasn't going to deny that he was already aroused by this point, and it was only by applying a quick transformation of his cock—so it would never stiffen up—that he was able to stop giving himself away. Still, Shalltear had the audacity to place her hands directly on his crotch. That and the lascivious look she was giving him almost made him want to revert that change and just go on ahead. After that quickie with Calca, he sure was ready for more. But if he succumbed now, then that was just admitting he was just as much a sex addict as this one here. And his pride wouldn't allow himself to fall into that mire.

It took a supreme amount of superhuman effort to make him say, "I can't, Shalltear. Much as I'd like to, I'm quite busy at the moment. I know you understand."

"Oh, but Ainz-sama, think of all the naughty little things we can do~" Shalltear said. Before he could stop her, she had fallen to her knees, her head now on level with his crotch. She smiled and palmed over his thick balls and laid her face against the flaccid length of his cock. After breathing on his cock, her lovely eyebrows shot up as a look of surprise appeared on her face. Her mouth made a moue of annoyance. "That's just unfair, Ainz-sama. Transforming yourself so you can't get up, that's cheating!"

"I'm sorry, Shalltear but I really can't," he said, a little bemused by the way Shalltear tried to desperately suck and lick at his cock, all without it responding even once. Watching her work so earnestly honestly made him want to stiffen the fuck up and just ram his cock down her slutty little throat, everything else be damned. But he "puckered up", so to speak, and steeled himself from making such an impulsive decision.

"Ainz-sama… Ainz-sama… C'mon, I'll make you feel good… You know it'll be good… Just plunge your thick hard cock inside my throat… Or better yet stuff it in my tight pussy… Mmmphh…"

Ainz sighed. This was going nowhere. He had to stop this now before temptation brought him down to her level. He abruptly bent down and scooped Shalltear's body up in the air with his powerful arms, causing her to yelp in surprise. She felt so light and delicate in his arms, and the bump of her pregnant belly lay smooth against his skin. "Listen you," he said a little crossly. "Do I need to remind you of the need to obey?"

"Ahahaha… of course, of course, my lord…" Shalltear said awkwardly. "We do not wish to be punished again, no…"

He didn't think he would "punish" Shalltear at all for any disobedience. First of all, there was the risk to the babe that he wasn't going to take. Second, she would find some way to actively like it, which defeated the purpose of punishment in the first place.

And so, he frowned down at Shalltear, and said, "Shalltear, do I actually need to remind you that you are at a delicate part of your pregnancy right now? Why is it that you're one of the only ones who can't behave when it comes to this topic? Are you actually aware you're a mother? Do you really not care for our child?"

"Of course, of course I do, Ainz-sama!" Shalltear pleaded. "Please, believe me! I apologize if I have given you offense—"

"No, Shalltear, you didn't offend me," he replied. But he was certainly a little disappointed.

"Please don't mind me then!" she said frantically. "Forget what this foolish one has said! I—we—yes, we must be going then! Adieu!" She wriggled her body, as if she was trying to get out of his grasp.

He clucked his tongue and held on harder to his grip. "What did I just say? You've got to be more careful."

Shalltear made a moaning sound, like a sad kitten. Seeing the pitiful, contrite look on her face, he sighed and sat down on the ground, while still holding her in a princess hold.

"As I keep telling every one of you who bears my children, you've got to be a lot more careful about your bodies. Your bodies aren't completely your own anymore. And the thing is, you are a special case as well, Shalltear. You've got a body type similar to Keeno, or Neia. See this?" He looked pointedly at her baby bump, which looked oversized for her petite body size. "The healers keep reminding you guys that you've got to be more careful than the rest, so why are you acting like you're not?"

She puffed out her cheeks in a cute way. "But I'm obviously much, much, much stronger than them, Ainz-sama. Much, muuuuch stronger than them!"

"But are you really qualified to talk about that? Have you had a baby before?" She said nothing. "I don't want to have to repeat this again. I will gladly take you up sex if I want it. And I will want it, so you have no fear on that point; after all, we already even established the orgy schedules didn't we? But when I say no, then that is the final word, and I don't want to have to repeat it. For whatever reason there may be, when I say no, it's a no. Do you understand now?"

Shalltear's face was still pouting, but she did nod and say, "I understand, Ainz-sama. I… We shall endeavor to be a lot more careful about our pregnancy from now on. This we vow, from the bottom of our hearts.

"Right." Ainz grunted. "That's a lot better." He pulled her to a closer, tighter hug. She closed her eyes and smiled as she snuggled close to his chest.

He kissed her cheek. "Are you not excited to see our child?" he asked softly.

She giggled. "Of course! It occupies our thoughts day in and day out. For there is no doubt that they shall be strong and beautiful. Your seed is undeniably strong, my lord, and with the baby infused with such strength there is no doubt that they will be greater than any of them." She gave him a small peck on the cheek. "And we shall, of course, lavish them with all the love and care that a child of Ainz-sama deserves. They shall want for nothing from myself."

"Well, that's good," Ainz said. He was quite leery about all the other stuff she said, but at least it seemed her heart was in the right place regarding the care she would give to their child. And so, to reward her, he kissed her—this time full on the lips. His tongue wasted no time in plunging right inside her mouth, and Shalltear responded eagerly by coiling herself around him. They go back and forth in this way, exchanging their fluids until Shalltear pulled back, her face flushed and her eyes glazed over with deep lust.

"Ainz-sama," she moaned, pawing at his chest. "Can we not really…?"

"You fucking sex addict," he said, shaking his head. And if he wasn't careful that same title would apply to him…

"I'm sorry."

He sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot more when it came to Shalltear and his other "problematic" lovers—each of whom had seemingly endless libido. It was even compounded by the fact that all of these nymphomaniacs were high-leveled: these he dubbed the Terrible Trio of Zesshi, Albedo and Shalltear. Even the more lustful maids like Solution Epsilon had nothing on those three.

Still, there was a small part of him that wished he could indefinitely keep up a "bubble" of infinite time. The fantasy of mating endlessly until either he or his lover tapped out completely was always there, in the back of his mind. It was always the question of time that prevented him from mounting them repeatedly after every orgasm, as his body never, ever got tired of sex. It was possible to cycle through an infinite permutation of bodies to regain his energies.

He glanced towards the door to the baths, and then shook his head.

"Well, nothing I can do," he told Shalltear. He re-equipped his items from his inventory. Then he set her back down on the ground very carefully. "Let's do it." Her eyes lit up, but before she could say anything, he held up his hand. "But not here. You go get dressed, then head over to the mother's hall. Let's do it there."

"Ainz-sama…" Her starstruck expression faltered when she realized something a second later. "Wait, at the mother's hall. But that's—"

"That's right," he said, acknowledging the unspoken question. He was going to have sex with Shalltear, but only in the mother's hall. At this time of day, there were sure to be at least two other mothers there. This was to be an unscheduled orgy, but there weren't going to be any protests or anything. No one was going to second-guess him for bending the rules he himself made.

"Hmph!" Shalltear was pouting again. He couldn't help but grin wryly at her antics. "So I have to share again."

"Look at it this way, Shalltear," he said. "I'll be spending the rest of this day and much of tonight with you. So it's a guarantee you'll at least be satisfied—until the next time."

Shalltear coiled a finger through a strand of her wet silver hair that had poked through the towel on her head, while still pouting. "Fine. It is not as if an orgy is disagreeable to me in any way."

"Then let's go."

---

After Shalltear hastily got dressed at lightning speed, the two of them retraced Ainz's steps backward to his office, and from there to the mother's hall which was practically down the hall. Ainz could tell that Shalltear was literally bouncing on her feet and was almost on a running pace as she walked beside him. Her excitement was endearing to see, though he did have to keep scolding her to be careful with moving around so much.

When they arrived outside the enormous double doors, he made Shalltear go on ahead inside while he talked to the guards, who were urged to take modified positions far from the entrances. He also signaled the maids, who went inside and retrieved any of the staff who were still inside the room, which included the lich who was providing the spell of remote viewing. The NPCs duly bowed and made their leave as they passed him. Unscheduled orgy or no, he was still required to erect some form of privacy around their fornicating grounds, wherever they ended up being. Whatever his lovers' kinks, he was one for keeping himself private above all things.

As a final touch, Ainz placed one of his towels right near the doors, hanging it against the wall. This was the pre-determined signal for any of his lovers who might be coming later that there was an orgy in progress, and that they were free to join in whenever or however they liked. It had been used as a sort of courtesy for those like Keeno or Neia who were still reluctant to join orgies, and while either of them were now a bit more open-minded about it, he still liked to give them a choice to bow out from the debaucheries as they saw fit.

Finally, he stepped inside. There, he found his lovers looking back at him from their perches inside, ostensibly having sensed that an orgy was forthcoming. Their gazes were not unlike something that belonged to feral predators eyeing a nice piece of meat. They each knew the game, and each were eager to play it to perfection.

First there was Shalltear, who took up her position on a couch right by the entrance, ready to pounce on him when he gave the okay. Unfortunately, he walked right past her to the center of the room, which completely negated her initial advantage.

There was Clementine, who was lounging against the wall, her very pregnant body laid up on numerous cushions. Lately she had taken on a very peculiar practice of wearing almost nothing but thongs and bikinis when she was inside the mother's hall, which went a long way towards enticing him whenever he chanced to see her. He was sure she was acting so deliberately to entice him, which wasn't bad (as it had definitely worked several times). But seeing her swollen breasts, where her tiny bra was like a mere strip of cloth strapped around her chest and only barely covering her nipples; and further her sexy, pregnant bump, never failed to make feelings of desire rise within him.

Next, there was Calca, who was seated at a small alcove right next to Kelart. The latter was lying down on her side, asleep. She was bound to wake up once they began. Calca waved at him from beside her. She was still wearing the same sexy dress as before. She had somehow found a way to clean up completely, and her appearance gave no indication whatsoever that she'd just had a secret quickie with the lord of Nazarick. Her eyes no longer shone with grief but with the lust uncharacteristic of one who purported herself as a "holy" queen, even if there was undeniable proof of her fulfilling the role of holy "mother" inside her belly.

Next there was Solution, who was already walking towards him without fear. Unlike the rest, she did not need to show a bump unless she needed to. She did assure him that their child was still there, healthy and growing, though she could choose whether or not to show them. Lately, he was able to fulfil his need to impregnate someone who was not clearly pregnant through her—even if technically he could not really mate with her in a conventional manner.

Lastly, there was Neia, looking quite out of place among the others sitting there. She was huddled in her corner of the mother's hall, still looking like she was deliberately isolating herself despite the fact that she had already mostly opened up. She gazed at him anxiously, despite the clear sign of desire on her rosy-cheeked face and her sweat-lined forehead. It was quite likely that she would bolt and excuse herself before the orgy started, and he couldn't blame her. That would depend on if her desire for his cock was superseded by her innate embarrassment at being in "public".

"Hello, my dears," he announced, looking around. "Now I'm sure Shalltear's spilled the beans about this and you're all looking ready to start, but I've got some things to ask first. Where's Zesshi?" Of all his lovers, Zesshi was the one who spent more time in the mother's hall than the rest. The healers had urged that it was very important for her now to be as close to medical attention as possible. They had begged Ainz to veto any attempts at strenuous activity inside or outside Nazarick, which he was only too ready to enforce. This was why he was always concerned about her whereabouts, even if they were inconsequential. Still, assigning a shadow demon on her seemed a bit too much.

"She went outside somewhere with Albedo-sama," Solution replied, now practically within kissing distance from him. "They said they'd be back later."

Those two had been talking together a lot more, recently. He was paranoid enough to see it as some sort of conspiracy, but he was rational enough to conclude that at least it wasn't anything dangerous against him or Nazarick. But it was kind of annoying to know that they were discussing some secret things under his nose, even if it wasn't relevant to Nazarick's safety or his own.

"Alright then." He conjured a large sofa-like bed, its form specially made so it could cushion a whole bunch of pregnant women at once. He lay down on it, as the central figure quickly surrounded by a whole bunch of horny, pregnant women. Shalltear was first, claiming her spot right on top of him, grinding her sopping wet cunt on his crotch (though unfortunately he hadn't transformed yet). She made sure to stake her claim on his body completely by claiming pretty much the whole of his front save for his arms and legs, with her pregnant belly practically smushing against his abdomen. No one present there challenged this monopoly. The only ones who could had left for their own reasons, like Zesshi Zetsumei, Albedo and, surprisingly enough, Keeno. Though in a way she was "outmatched" by Shalltear who had superior parameters, she refused to give an inch if she ever joined an orgy, and that had sealed the dynamic since then.

Solution made do by kneeling between his legs, and she began to caress his thighs. He was then flanked by the two human blondes, Calca and Clementine, both on either side of him. To be surrounded by both a retired assassin and a literal former monarch of a nation was an experience nigh unmatchable. They dutifully began by nuzzling against his cheek and whispering sweet moans into his ear.

"Um, my lord," Neia asked. She stood at the foot of the bed, way out of arms' length of anyone else lying on it. She looked like she was just about ready to bolt from the room. She also looked like she would do a Keeno and challenge Shalltear, which was going to be interesting. "Would you happen to know where Keeno is?"

"Keeno?" He lay back and thought about it as their hands started rubbing all over his body. "Oh right. She had an emergency."

It was one heck of an emergency, so much that even in her advanced state of pregnancy he had no choice but to allow her to leave with the best escorts he could provide that would still guarantee Nazarick's secrecy. Mare the dark elf, a squadron of Eight-Edge Assassins, and a group of shadow demons were sent to escort her. And of course, he was ready to open a Gate to her location if the other, entirely separate group of shadow demons, who were commanded to watch and only watch, sent word to him.

Ordinarily he would never have allowed it, but the situation was so extraordinary that it intrigued him a little. So off Keeno went, back in her role as Evileye—though a very pregnant Evileye.

---

When she awoke it was to an absurd amount pain gripping her body like a cocoon. She felt as if she couldn't move at all, as if her body was but a cold, iron prison for her mind. Gradually, she felt her nerves settle, the pain losing focus and strength, yet never fading away completely. She was able to control her breathing, as if her mind remembered the essential process that she had always took for granted. Then she started to hear things—like her own harried breathing, and various other sounds she couldn't recognize, like dull thumps and indistinct creaks.

Images filled her mind, distorted, fleeting. There was the flash of light reflecting off dirty steel. There was the booming crash of thunder. There was the sound of myriad screams, filling her mind with their screeching cacophony. There was a crimson fountain, sprouting from within the earth, flowing and splashing in terrible waves.

She had beheld… she had held such power. She could not describe it. It was like she had been doused in hot, searing flame, yet the fire did not hurt. And she fed from the fire as of a wick, greedily, eagerly, until nothing but ash remained. And then she fell, and it was as if the power had never been hers.

What the heck had happened? Why was she trapped here with those images? Where was she? Who was she?

You are Lakyus.

Yes, she thought, and the thought echoed out into the void surrounding her. The sound returned to her in reverberating waves, as of a million invisible waves pouring into her from all over.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Then she opened her eyes.

Gradually, she was able to see—the blinding light giving way to blurry forms, and then to a clear image of a dimly lit room.

"So is she really some sort of elf?" someone was asking. It took a long while for her to realize that was Gagaran.

"Yes, and don't pester her, you idiots. I ain't even supposed to be here."

Was that…? She blinked several times, until she was able to see the figures in the distance more clearly. There was a strange dark-skinned elf standing with her side to her. She (or was it a he?) was staring silently and sullenly into the distance.

Beside that one was a person she recognized—Evileye. The last she'd seen of her former teammate had been her quite advanced pregnancy. Now she could see that it had seemed to progress even farther. She was wearing some sort of frilly, long dress, a far cry from the usual Evileye she was used to.

Another spasm of pain crashed through her, and she groaned. She hissed through her teeth and struggled. Only then did she realize that she was actually lying down on something soft, like a bed. It was a bed.

She heard a clamor of footsteps on wood. Thud-thud-thud. As she blinked away the tears, she saw Evileye looking down at her, and beside her loomed the taller Gagaran. Both of them sported looks of worry.

"What…" she wheezed out. Her voice sounded hoarse and foreign to her own ears. Her mouth felt as if her jaws had been nailed together.

"…You're an idiot, you know that?" Evileye said. "What the hell are you thinking, making me worry like that? It's not good for the baby, you know."

"What? What happened to the battle…?" she asked. The last thing she remembered was the clash of steel and blood.

"Well… about that, leader…" Gagaran said, grinning awkwardly.

---

Chapter commissioned by UltraSpink of Da USA, thank you. A reminder that the story is commissioned.

If you'd like a story commissioned, feel free to contact me here, or on archiveofourown under "RHoldhous".