Breeding Issues

by The Ruff Pusher

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

18. Chapter 18

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.

---

It was just a couple of days since "that" disastrous day. And it was indeed disastrous for Tuareninya, as it had been on that particular day—and on that particular moment even—that she had "sold" her love, Sebas Tian, to some arrogant slattern just so she could help herself.

On that moment, she had been so caught up in her heightened emotions, in the joy she felt at seeing the promise of a solution that was just within her reach; that she failed to reflect on the possible consequences of merely "granting" that bitch Edstrom what she wanted. And she hadn't even talked to her hubby about it too! Well, it wasn't completely her fault, nor even his. The Master Ainz Ooal Gown had required Sebas' services for days, and so she had been unable to meet him for a long time.

For the longest time she had wanted to bear a child with her love. It had been part of her greatest desires after he had saved him and given him a new start in this place. Sure, it was a scary place where creatures from her nightmares routinely walked around and greeted her "good morning"; but it was a safe place, and no one was allowed to harm her nor give her grief. When they had become lovers, she had desperately wanted to bear his children, to see and carry the concrete proof of their love in her arms.

She had watched longingly from the sidelines as the Master Ainz Ooal Gown had gathered his women to himself, and had each given them children in their wombs. She wondered why she had not been able to quicken like them. That no matter how hard they both tried, making love like animals every day for a full month, nothing had ever happened.

It was enough to drive oneself mad with grief, as the fear next choked her: that her body was too damaged, too stained, too tainted by her previous experiences. She had heard of such cases, and she was slowly coming around to the realization that it had happened to her as well. It was almost soul-crushing to consider the fact that she would never be able to enjoy the same happiness as Ainz's mothers with her beloved Sebas.

That was why the brief glimpse of light that the intruder Edstrom brought had given renewed hope. And at that moment, she did not take the time to think too much about the conditions that the woman had laid down, no matter how much she really loathed it.

Today, word had come back to her from her fellow maids that a "special visitor" was just about to re-enter Nazarick. As the visitor was someone related to her, there was really only one person who it could be: her damned nemesis Edstrom.

She paced inside their meeting place: the bedroom she shared with Sebas Tian. There really was no other place she could use to get some privacy: as that was the only place granted to her by Nazarick's master.

Her anxiety was palpable as she squeezed her hands together. She was trapped between fear and anticipation. First, obviously, there was the fear that Edstrom would not have been successful in finding this alleged cure she possessed. In that case, she would breathe a sigh of relief, as that would mean their deal was officially nullified. While it would mean that she was doomed to her current state until another solution presented itself, at least she would no longer need to share her love with some harlot.

On the other hand, she felt a swell of anticipation within her. Such feelings were a frightening thing as well: she was so looking forward to getting her babies with Sebas Tian at last; a miracle she had desperately prayed for but never found. But this would then inevitably mean that she would be obligated to share her lover with that Edstrom in exchange. And that was something that didn't really sit right with her, to have to share her man with some slut who hadn't even been there from the start. She couldn't fathom what Ainz's mothers were thinking in that regard: did they really not care that they were sharing their most cherished person with another?

Presently, the meeting time came, and the door to the bedroom opened. Edstrom, the dark-skinned lady with her lithe body and buxom curves sashayed in, striding with a confidence that immediately struck Tuare with the truth. She felt her heart squeeze, as euphoria filled her body. But it was twinned to the sensation of falling down a hole, as it also meant that she had fulfilled her part of the bargain, and that meant she would also be getting her own request fulfilled.

"Hello there, Tuare," Edstrom greeted, with a smile that looked mocking to her. She looked around the room with the patient confidence of a confirmed killer-for-hire. Tuare knew of her type, from her time before Sebas' rescue. "Didja miss me? At all?"

She wondered why it was so easy for the woman's every movement and word to make her blood boil in rage, giving her thoughts she hadn't even entertained in her life. Her lover, Sebas, would have described it as a "murderous intent", something even she herself knew was unrealistic for her. At this, she attempted to calm herself, by putting her hand on her chest. Then she looked up and glared at the other woman.

"So? You came back. I'll cut straight to the chase, since I have no patience right now. Have you accomplished what you promised to do?"

Edstrom nodded her head, and smiled briefly in a manner that seemed almost mocking. Then, with almost deliberate motions, she took a small bag from her side. Tuare heard a bit of clinking from within, and it was the most wonderful thing she had heard in a while, like music to her ears. Edstrom flicked the latch open, to reveal several small flasks inside, each holding some sort of yellow-green liquid within, like yellowed leaves.

"I told you it could be accomplished, especially with the resources available to me. There are few in the land who should dare doubt the words of one of the Six Arms—or face your peril." She crossed her arms and looked smug.

"The Six Arms?" she repeated. "What the heck is that?"

"A group you should rightfully fear, if you were just an ordinary nobody. I was once a member of it…" A flash of annoyance came to her face. "Well, former member now. We're disbanded…" she shook her head. "Anyway! That wasn't my point. The point is, you can believe me when I promise something, Tuare."

"And is that it?" Her attention was once more drawn to the hint of flask peeking out from the other woman's bag. "Is that the potion that you promised?"

"Indeed. It was a cinch to acquire, since currently there isn't much demand in the Kingdom… Thanks to recent events. Still, it wasn't as if I could just grab it and come back. It took a day to find what I needed, and then several more having to come back." She sighed, a little melodramatically. "You do realize your new masters made it so you don't just get back inside this place? Wherever this place is, it is certainly not easy to enter if you're not a guest. And we should both thank lord Sebas that he put in a good word for me; else I wouldn't have been able to come back at all."

"I already am grateful to Sebas-sama for everything he has done and more, thank you very much," Tuare said, with a sniff. "And besides, you're forgetting that it is only through my word to Sebas-sama that made him vouch for you, and don't you forget it. You say it's difficult for a guest to come here—well, I am a guest of Ainz-sama himself, so don't get too high on your attitude to me, or you'll regret it. You're the outsider here, remember that."

Edstrom bowed, deeply at the waist, though she wasn't sure if it was really genuine. "You are too kind, milady. I am pleased to be doing business with one as… smart as you."

"Enough. Like I said, I'm no longer the patient sort. I don't want to play your games," Tuare snapped impatiently. "So you have it? But will it really work as you described it?"

"So you're going from scolding me for being late, to then doubting if I even have the real deal?" Edstrom snorted. "That's cute. But you're right that you have the better position between the two of us. So I'll play along."

She took out one vial and held it out for her to see. Her hand swirled it, causing the liquid inside to dance with light. "Now, I remember what your 'queen' from before said. I'm told the Holy Kingdom does have its own share of freaks, and their version of these potions. I hear they're quite potent, but right now I can't really say." She shook the bottle again. "Now this one is the real deal, in case you were still doubting. Freshly brewed from the cauldrons of our best alchemists and witches. If you doubt its efficacy because it was sourced from the Eight Fingers, then consider this: this potion costs as much as a small army precisely because it is highly sought." Then she shrugged. "But, of course, neither of us can really prove that the potion will give you the result you desire. Well, not until you try it personally, of course."

Tuare snorted. "Well then, if that's the case, then I guess there's only one way to find out." She reached for the vial, intent on claiming it, but Edstrom neatly pulled back her arm with lightning speed.

"Uh uh uh." She grinned and flaunted the vial teasingly before her. "Did you forget our little deal? I brought this potion for you, just as I promised. I fulfilled my part; but what about yours?"

She bit her lip, as another surge of anger spiked through her. She looked away from those glinting, teasing eyes, so full of the mockery that set her teeth on edge. Still, she wasn't in any position to be doing anything else at this point. She had given her word, after all. "… I didn't forget. You can be sure of that. I already called Sebas-sama, and told him that I had the 'solution' to our problems." She sighed dejectedly. "As it happens, he's coming back from Ainz-sama's task right now. So you're just in luck." She didn't want to mention that she hadn't expected him to come so soon—she wanted Edstrom out of the way first, but she really wanted to try out the potion's effectiveness with Sebas before Ainz took him away for his duties again.

"Oh, it's today?" Edstrom said, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. "Oh, lucky day! That means I won't have wait even more days waiting then. We could do it right this instant. Did you tell Sebas exactly how you got the solution?"

"I told him that I did have one, yes. But…"

Edstrom blinked. "Wait a second. You didn't tell him about me?" She sounded indignant as she said that. "Why didn't you?"

Her brows furrowed in anger. "Why should I even do that?" she shot back. "That wasn't part of the deal."

Edstrom clucked her tongue.

"In any case, it's not as if Sebas-sama wouldn't be grateful for what you've done," she continued, shaking her wrist wryly. "As long as you're doing this thing for my sake, then he'll be pleased."

Edstrom's expression lightened. "That's right…. That's right… You're right… You're completely right." She suddenly laughed, a loud guffaw that sounded boorish in her ears. "What have I to worry about? Nothing at all! In fact, he'd be so grateful that he won't refuse my request! I'm already in!"

Tuare glared disapprovingly at her, and said, "Think what you want. You're free to do that. But listen here and listen good: you won't get to talk to, nor less meet Sebas-sama if you don't give me the potion. Now."

Edstrom sighed. "Fine. At the very least, it's Eight Finger policy to hook the clueless rubes in with a sample first. Here you go. Don't go wasting it now. If you waste it, it'd be… difficult to acquire more." She smirked, and to Tuare it felt like she was hiding something.

Tuare received the proffered vial and stared into the liquid with a fascinated gasp. This was it. This was the solution she had been seeking for a very long time. All those nights of heartbreak, the days of agonizing whether they had actually done it, whether they had actually accomplished the fruits of their love. They had all culminated to this point. And now that the purported solution to everything was right in her grasp, she could feel a well of joy surge from within her. An anticipation so raw that she could almost taste it.

And then, there came a knock at the door.

Both women's shoulders jerked up in surprise as Sebas' gruff, calm voice could be heard, muffled, from behind the door.

"Tuare-dono. It is I, Sebas. I have returned."

With wide eyes and her heart thundering in her chest, she looked around wildly, as if she had lost all her rational thoughts. Sebas was already here? But it's so soon! The bitch hasn't even left yet! She should've been out of this room before then! Then, she collected herself, and nervously cried out, "A moment, please, my love! One moment, we're—oohhh… I'm still preparing something here, please wait a bit…!"

"…That is fine. Please take as long as you wish."

She did one last check all around the room, fixing up everything so it would look presentable. However, a moment later she was able to remember that she had already prepped everything in the room beforehand, to make sure everything looked appropriately romantic for Sebas as should be expected.

She saw that everything was just as they should be, which gave her some relief. Then she realized that there was one major thing that was completely different about the room: the significant presence of a certain intruder who was currently watching her with bemused eyes.

She wanted to yell at her "Get out!", but of course, Sebas would obviously be able to see her exit. And she was sure that Edstrom would never listen to her, as she was still insisting on getting her end of the deal. She sensed that the woman was determined to be an obstacle in her path no matter what, and she had already won her little victory by being here at the same time that Sebas had returned.

She took a deep breath and glanced down at the potion she had been given. She picked it up, glanced discreetly at Edstrom one last time before uncapping the lid. She caught a whiff of something foul and indescribable, which was just as expected of a mysterious potion. Thinking nothing more of that, she took the vial's opening to her lips and chugged the entire contents straight into her throat. She choked as the burning taste of something tasting like salt and rotten filled her senses, before she forced her throat to swallow down every single mouthful of potion. She took several gulps, her face twisted in discomfort as she made sure not to spill even a single precious drop.

She heard a gulp behind her, and turned her head to see Edstrom coughing into her palm. As she watched the other woman, she felt a strange heat filling up her body, as if she had imbibed hard liquor. She closed her eyes and took a moment to focus on the sensations that were wrapping all over her body, and prayed earnestly to whatever deity was listening that this magical concoction would be enough. She prayed so hard that it would finally be the solution for the two of them.

After a while, the feeling faded and she was finally able to return to the situation with a clear eye. She sniffed and pushed past Edstrom, whose face looked a little flush, though it was hard to tell with her skin.

"You are not to say a single word until I mention you," she said, giving the other woman the strongest glare, she could muster. Then she schooled her expression to the warmth of a woman welcoming her lover back after a long absence, stepped up the door, and then opened it.

"Please do come in, my love," she said, with a flutter of her lashes.

"Ah, good day to you again, dear Tuare," Sebas replied in his customary rumbling voice. Her lover stood outside just as she remembered him: tall, stoic, and so, so strong. He leaned down and gave her the kiss she didn't need to ask for, and she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck as it continued for a while, just enjoying each other's warmth and presence as they conveyed their feelings through their mouths.

Then, when they pulled back, Sebas cleared his throat and stood tall with the grave dignity of a true gentleman.

"My apologies my dear," he said. He stared pointedly at the one glaring addition to the room, Edstrom, who was standing back inside the room. "But I sensed her from outside the door. I did fear the worst, but I trusted that you didn't sound in any real danger."

"Ah, well, I can explain her, my love. It's all quite understandable," she said, dredging up the explanation she had prepared beforehand. "You see, it's a long story. On my own time, I was looking for a solution to our problems."

Sebas nodded gravely. "Of course. It has been a concern for me as well. I know it's been something you've been looking for all this time," he said, with a gentle voice.

"Yes… And finally, just recently, I was able to find what looked like a solution." She took a deep breath. "It's a potion, that will enable us to finally achieve what we've both dreamed of this whole time."

"A potion?"

She nodded violently, while clasping her hands as her anxiety built up inside her. "Yes. It's a… I don't really know how to describe it, my love. But it's a fertility potion, and…" her voice went down to a near whisper. "It's going to help us. It's going to finally bless us with what we've been searching for all this time."

"That's good to hear!" Sebas all but exclaimed, reaching out to grasp her hands. She felt her heart fluttering inside her chest at the happiness that was radiating from her lover's face. Still, she knew that their mutual joy was tainted from the very start.

"But before that, my love, there's more," she said. She gestured towards Edstrom, who stood there fidgeting. "She was the one who told me of the potion's existence, the one who procured it, and the one who just gave it to me."

"Is that so?" Sebas said, his moustache quivering. He turned to face Edstrom. "Then, you have my—"

"My love, please listen," she said, squeezing his hand to interrupt him. "—And that is why I had to agree to pay her the price she sought, in exchange for this potion."

"Price?" Sebas echoed. He looked between the two women. "What price?"

Tuare opened her mouth to speak, but found that she could not muster the words. She glanced at her hated enemy, who caught her eye and smirked. Then Edstrom stepped forward, and bowed low at the waist.

"Allow me to supply the answer, my lord," Edstrom said in a mellifluous voice. "In exchange, I wished for a chance to also become your lover. To partake in the pleasures of your body. To also be given the chance to… bear your children."

---

When he had arrived here at Tuare's chambers, Sebas had expected a few hours of comfort before returning to his duties. He hadn't expected Tuare to crave sex, but if she did, then he was well-prepared to give it to her.

"Make the wife happy, and everything's peachy," Ainz-sama had said, referring in this instance to Tuare as his "wife", even if he was unsure what the definition of the word was. But the meaning behind the words were clear. He was grateful to Ainz-sama for granting him this leave, however brief, to be with this precious human he had taken under his wing.

There had been a lot of errands he had to run, as part of the massive ongoing operations that were being carried out under the master's auspices. The Master was preparing for some grand movement, and with the assistance of Demiurge and Albedo, was close to achieving the same result as he had done during war in the Holy Kingdom—or so Demiurge had said.

As there had been a lull in the operation, Ainz had sent him away for a little break. "It's mandatory," he had said, saying something about "employee happiness" and "effectivity" which Sebas didn't understand. But he was more than happy to obey the Master in this case, as the command also dovetailed with his own personal desires.

Still, he hadn't expected at all to see Edstrom of all people there. And far greater than that, he hadn't expected to hear those words that had just come out of her mouth.

He crossed his arms in front of him and stared at the dark girl steadily. "You say you want to be like Tuare? My pardons, but would you please provide an answer as to why? We were once enemies, and I am a servant of the force that brought you low, that brought your whole organization under our heel. It is not something I will betray, not even for a woman's touch. Tuare knows…" He glanced at his love and grimaced. "That even she herself lives under the sufferance of one to whom I must present my utmost loyalty. If at any point He wishes for me to get rid of her, then I shall, with no hesitation. She knows this, and understands." Edstrom's eyes had widened in shock, perhaps due to the nature of the revelation he had just said. "Now that you know, do you still wish to be involved with me? I already gave you your freedom. Would you wish to waste it needlessly?"

For a moment, Edstrom looked away, as if she had been made uncertain by his words. Then she shook her head and clenched her fist. "Whatever I was before, my lord Sebas… is gone. I am… It is fair to say that I might have already died at that manor where we first met, as did the rest of my comrades. Well, they weren't 'comrades' per se. But still, I expected to join them in death, and instead I found myself imprisoned in a place where I would crave death. There I had resigned myself to a terrible, agonizing fate…" She squared her shoulders and stared up at him fearlessly. "But then you came, and took me from that place unconditionally. Without demanding anything in return, you rescued me. You could have just ignored my pleas, and left me there to die in some unknown corner of the world. Even when I was your enemy, even when I was part of the group that opposed you and your Lord… You still chose to save me. And I will always be eternally grateful for that, my lord Sebas."

She then went down on her knees, then bent her body until her forehead was pressed on the floor. "And that is why I put myself entirely in your hands. Use me as you see fit, but please grant me this slight selfishness on my part. I wish to be yours my lord Sebas. If you will have me. I make this plea, because I no longer care about anything else. You are my one light, my lord, and it is by that light that I have been remade. It is only right, then, that I offer myself up to you, worthless though I am."

After making that speech she remained on the floor, her body still in that strange prostrating position. Sebas glanced at Tuare, who looked like she was about to cry.

"What's wrong, Tuare?"

"Oh, nothing, my lord," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "I just… her feelings… she reminds me of myself."

"Hmmm…" Sebas took some time to think on it himself. It was true that he sensed no deceit from Edstrom's words, enabled by a trait his master had given to him. As such, he was also able to believe Tuare's impression about Edstrom.

Still, it wasn't as if he could just turn away now. He was conscientious about the role he played in Edstrom's liberation, an act for which he needed to take responsibility. While he would never have changed his mind about freeing Edstrom from the dungeons, it was still a conscious decision on his part that had lead to this situation. As such, he had a responsibility now, which he could either dismiss or take on. In this case, it looked like he was going to have to accept. But there was something else to consider first.

"I see… In that case, normally I would have taken responsibility for my actions and accepted you," Sebas said. "However. I am already engaged with Tuare here. It is to her that I have opened up my heart first." At those words, Tuare smiled, her eyes glimmering with tears as she looked up at him with her cheeks flushed. "As such, this decision also involves her. And I will only accept you and your proposal—" he turned and smiled at Tuare. "—If Tuare also agrees."

Tuare gasps, and he also heard Edstrom's muffled gasp and saw her body stiffening with shock.

"My lord?" Tuare repeated.

He smiled at her. "I'll leave it to you, my dear. The decision to give her what she wants is up to you. Do you accept?"

"Ummm… I…"

Suddenly, Edstrom all but crawled to Tuare's feet, and grasped the hem of her maid dress, while still bowed.

"Oh, please, oh please, oh please Tuare, I beg you, please don't throw me away, please don't refuse… I beg you please, I'll do anything, please give me this chance, this one small chance, please accept, oh please…"

"Ummm…" Tuare looked down at the other woman with a perplexed look, as if she didn't know what exactly to do. Sebas only watched, wondering what she would decide. Would she think that having two partners was unacceptable to her, or would she accept?

"I…" She sighed and patted her chest. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't have accepted. Not in a million years. But ever since I heard your story, it's… It's got me more than a little conflicted. I can see much of myself in what she said… and more… And that's why…"

She closed her eyes. Then she looked up at him with a determined look on her face. "Sebas-sama. If it's alright with you, then please accept her. Take her beneath your shadow and protect her like you did me."

Sebas took a moment to stare into her eyes, to see if she was being untrue to herself, or being deceptive in any way. The entire moment was spent in a long, drifting silence.

Then he shrugged. "Very well. If Tuare says it's fine, then it's fine. Edstrom, I accept your feelings."

"YES!" Edstrom yelled, rushing to her feet. "YES! YES! YES!" She almost bowled over Tuare as she tackled her, throwing her arms around her in a hug that made the latter woman yelp. Then Sebas could hear the other woman's exultant voice drip with emotion as she all but cried on Tuare's shoulder, to which the latter patted her head, like a mother soothing a child. She caught Sebas' eye, and nodded. Then she whispered something in Edstrom's ears.

At that, Edstrom stopped, and wiped at her face, before turning towards him fully. She bowed deeply and said, "I thank you, my lord, for your kindness and consideration. I shall never forget this for the rest of my life. And for the rest of my life, I shall offer up my body, heart and soul for you and yours. This I swear!"

"Hmm…" Still no deception in her words. Well, that was fine. What was one more? Ainz-sama had well above that number, and he was still managing. "Please bear in mind, that I will have to talk to Ainz-sama about this. In the end, it is he who will approve your presence. I cannot promise anything about that, so be prepared."

"Wait a moment," came Tuare's voice. They both looked at her. "But let me make one thing clear. In this, and whoever might come after… There is one rule about our little arrangement… I am the first above all, got it?" She glared a little at Edstrom, who nodded jerkily.

"It will be as you say, Tuare." She looked respectfully at the other woman.

Tuare raised a brow. "Hmmm. Your attitude's certainly changed. But I guess that's because of me." She wagged a finger. "Do remember that, or I'll be forced to tell Sebas to change his mind."

"I won't! I won't forget this favor as long as I live!" Edstrom exclaimed, her hand on her chest.

"Well good, in that case," Tuare said, sighing. Then she started unbuttoning her clothes. Seeing that signal, Sebas also started unequipping his gear.

"Whoa, whoa, what the hell are you doing?" Edstrom exclaimed, looking from one to the other as the two of them continued undressing.

Tuare rolled her eyes as she stripped down to her undergarments. "Isn't it obvious? To test your potion, first of all. And second, Sebas-sama only has a small amount of time before he has to report back for duty. It's something you're going to have to remember if you wanna spend time with him."

"That is true," Sebas replied. "Though Ainz-sama was generous enough to grant me leave, it is still limited. I must return, or else I am derelict in my duties. And if I am, then both of you are in jeopardy. In other words…"

"We got to make this quick." Tuare said

"Oh," came Edstrom's reply. "Oh!" came the next exclamation when she beheld Sebas in his full naked glory. Her eyes in particular went roving over his body, with a hunger that he recognized. And he too was now scrutinizing the other woman in turn, now looking at her as an actual woman instead of an asset in the field.

"In that case…" Edstrom purred, peeling away at the scant few clothing she had, which was not a lot. She sashayed her hips. "Then please indulge, my lord. I too, took a swig of potion. My loins hunger for your touch."

"Wait, what? You also got potion? You didn't—eep!" Tuare's voice was caught up in Edstrom's frenzied giggles and Sebas' insistent growl as he took her both and Edstrom in his arms and tossed them on the bed. A moment later he joined his lovers—old and new—to start enjoying their bodies in the few remaining time he had left.

---

The maid bowed deep at the waist, as was proper for one addressing a noble from a House as prestigious as Elias Brand Dale Raeven's. During King Ramposa's reign, he was one of the six great nobles opposing him, a prominent figure in the Re-Estize Kingdom's politics. In comparison, this maid belonged to one of the lower Houses, who could be stripped from rank and relegated to peasantry with but a single word from him to the right channels. Still, that did not change the fact of her answer, which was: "My apologies, my lord, but the Princess is currently indisposed."

"Indisposed?" Raeven said. He slowly tapped the end of his cane against his other hand. To any onlookers, it might have looked like an erring child about to be spanked by a disappointed father. Well, that was the effect Raeven was going for; at this point, he was willing to exploit every trick in the book to get what he wanted. "What, did she fall ill?"

"We cannot say, my lord," said the maid. She kept her eyes averted, her cheeks pale like milk. No doubt she was suitably intimidated by the sight of the Marquis Raeven himself looking like he was going to chastise her. "Our lips have been forbidden from saying anything, by royal decree. Please understand," she said in a weak, pleading voice.

Raeven sighed. He whirled his walking stick back to plant on the tiled floor with a loud, obnoxious thunk. As he had intended, the girl flinched in surprise. "Very well. There's nothing I can do if she's really going to be stubborn about it. But, as it happens, today I came prepared." He took a note from his pocket and gave it to the maid with an experienced flourish. "Give this note to the Princess, and ensure that she reads it." He furrowed his eyebrows, tapping his fingers testily against the decorated head of his walking stick, and then put as much authority into his voice as he could muster. "Do remember that I will know whether my instructions are followed or not. I do hope you keep that in mind, my dear."

The maid looked appropriately fearful. "… I will remember, my lord. I shall do as you ask, please be assured of it."

Raeven sighed as the maid walked away. It was a very bad time for the Princess to suddenly disappear from public, when she had once been most visible person in the royal palace days before the Abdication. Already there had been many wagging tongues among the nobles, each speculating scenario after scenario. They ranged from the borderline treasonous, "She had fallen in love with a Marcher lord and intends to become Queen!"; to downright fantasy, "She has sold her soul to the Sorcerer-King and become His witch-bride!"

Yet Raeven had it on good authority that the Princess had not been seen to leave her chambers in the Palace. He had his own sources that informed him that no such flight in the night had been achieved, nor had the secret passages in the Palace been visited by even a rat. Though he hadn't seen Renner at all, she was assuredly still inside her private chambers.

He had spoken to one such informant before coming to this maid: a lower noble working as a butler who routinely oversaw the transfer of food from the kitchen pantries below to the Princess' rooms, and vice versa.

"Naught but I and the help have passed through the doors, m'lord," his contact had said, puffing out his chest. "And of course, you can rest assured that they are indeed the very same people I have working under me, no spies or anything like that."

"Could they have been magically disguised?"

"Possibly, my lord, but it would have been a very determined artist willing to work for an entire day to throw me off. I kept watch over them like a hawk, my lord, even during my breaks, just as you suggested, and never did they once slip away from my notice." Well, there could have still been a determined spy among the lot, thought Raeven, slipping messages for the Princess under the guise of a help. Still, his informant was insistent that his duties had been discharged with utmost exactitude, and in the case of the Princess' room, there had been no strange person spotted entering nor leaving.

It was clear, then, from this and from dozens of other testimonies he had gathered over the days, that the Princess truly was not receiving anyone—highborne or no.

At least as an official audience.

He did possess the knowledge that the Princess had her own share of visitors coming in clandestinely, observed in the act by his spies. These were assorted nobles from either side of the fence. They came at odd hours of the night, when the parties were still going on, spotted by his many helpers going in and out of the Princess' quarters, even assisted by the maids themselves.

If he or anyone else had been allowed to talk to her, he would have seen it innocently enough as ambitious men and women trying to curry favor with the sister of the new King Zanac. But she had steadfastly insisted on refusing official visitors, while also continuing to receive these others in secret. That was quite an alarming development to him. Though he himself was aware of these visits, it seemed that the Princess did not want anyone to know, and therefore it was very suspect.

He turned to leave the area, his thoughts now turned from the Princess' mysterious actions, to the affairs of state. It did not need to be said by anybody in the Capital that turbulent times were ahead. Things had already been wildly imbalanced and uncertain since the rise of the Marcher threat. The sudden war with the Holy Kingdom had stoked the fires of chaos. The King's subsequent abdication some weeks later fanned the flames into an inferno.

The Capital City itself was a lost cause. Much like a sinking ship, dozens of minor nobles were allowed to flee into the countryside. Raeven was fairly certain that none of these would become Marchers, as they were individually too weak to enforce their claims should Zanac return to his rightful power. But it was not out of the question for them to pay fealty to those other Marcher Lords, who had already purported themselves as petty kings of their own fiefdoms, and thereby secure a presumably higher rank in what might be a possible new kingdom.

The ordinary citizens and the peasantry in the Capital had also fled in the hundreds, no longer trusting in the King or his men to defend against a possible siege from the Holy Kingdom. And with the rumors of the Sorcerer-King's ultimatum slipping through the cracks, they also rightly feared the monster's arrival at the head of a legion of undead. He had himself witnessed a massive caravan of people going through the roads in every cardinal direction—north, west, east, south—each looking like a frightened snake coiling into the distance. The Capital's many districts were now largely depopulated, and only the brave and the faithful—or perhaps the stubborn—stayed behind.

Subsequently, the pawns of the Eight Fingers were now left to skitter over the desolation of the city left behind—now operating boldly and openly as if they were the Kingdom's new citizens. They even set up shop and purported themselves to be the "legitimate" owners of the many businesses that were left behind, though it was clear to those who might chance to enter that their "wares" were clearly of questionable—and criminal—sources. Still, with much of the city's bureaucracy effectively paralyzed by the mass exodus of those who had been tasked to its functions, there wasn't anything that even the most criminal-hating nobles could do.

Lastly, there yet remained the proud nobles living in the Palace and its surrounding districts: those who yet remained loyal to the King, or those who saw opportunity in taking a side opposite the "cowards" who fled.

Notably, the higher placed nobles of the Great Nobles Faction were among those who remained; and Raeven counted himself among their number. They were protected by the royal garrison, tasked to defend the Capital in the event of a siege, while also told to prevent the Eight Fingers from breaching the Palace districts. In the greatest of ironies, this same garrison was supplied by food sold to the nobles by the same "ruffians" they were told to keep out. In the old days, to be associated with the criminal group merit the King's justice; yet now, no one cared anymore, as long as they were able to feed the men-at-arms who had been assigned to guard them.

Despite the precarious situation, life continued on as usual inside the Palace. Even without the King present, the nobles were still obligated to gather at Court and mingle, ardently pursuing the premise that everything was normal and that nothing was amiss. It also meant that the richer nobles were also obligated to host small parties and balls on a daily basis, to continue the appearance of opulence.

This was the reason why the Eight Fingers' depredations were largely tolerated. Aside from supplying the local garrison, they were also the only source of the sort of food and wine and other accoutrements demanded of a high-class gathering. Those of the Greater Nobles like Raeven needed to show that they could still afford to throw the weight of their wealth around. Even when such displays hung on by the barest threads.

The only reason why Raeven could still afford his own parties was that he was one of the few nobles whose lands were relatively close to the Capital City, and were situated well away in the path of either the Holy Kingdom to the south or Ainz Ooal Gown to the east. Still, his resources were stretched thin, which meant that he still inevitably swallowed his pride and purchased supplies from the Eight Fingers.

On the other hand, even when he needed to throw a party every other day, he was able to set a small maximum number of guests invited, to which he ascribed the snobbishness that was already expected of a greater noble. And he was still able to utilize those same parties as a front for his other clandestine activities.

For even now, Raeven still felt obligated to do his part as a noble who wished to do right by the Re-Estize Kingdom.

One such recent party, in particular, had tipped him off to a rather troubling sentiment that seemed to be brewing all throughout the nobility gathered through the Palace.

"It feels like rebellion, my lord," an informant of his said, as Raeven feasted him with pheasant and cheese and wine bought from the stores of thrice-damned smugglers.

"Do take care on what you say, my good man" he'd replied warningly. "For such accusations of treason are ever treated with the same uniform gravity. And if you were to be accusing of one with status such as myself…"

"My apologies, my lord Marquis, but it really is quite the feeling that has been impressed upon me!" his informant had protested. "Were you to hear the lot of them talk, it is as if a plan's been made?"

He swirled the wine in his glass and took a careful sip. Suddenly, it seemed all too bitter, without any redeeming qualities to taste. "And from which individuals exactly did you get these 'impressions'?"

The informant told him a couple of names.

"Pah!" he had exclaimed. "Foolishness. Minor lords with nothing to their name. Perhaps they were blustering. If there are any that are really plotting something of the sort, then they would certainly think better than involving those individuals. They can't even be trusted to keep their mouth shut from you!"

"Perhaps, my lord, perhaps," his informant said. "And perhaps there are other conspirators who are on the same level as yourself. And they are equal in cunning as you, perhaps."

"Hmmm…" He waved a hand. "Nonsense. I am sure everyone is fully devoted to keeping this country running. Please do not mind them, my friend."

Though he'd said that, he was already masking the fact that the news had disturbed him greatly. Whispers of rebellion was one thing, but to expect it from his fellow greater nobles was another. One of them had already turned coat to become a Marcher. It was easy enough to believe that some others would now be tempted to take control of the government in Zanac's absence.

Perhaps they would even attempt to seize the throne.

In his opinion, the Re-Estize Kingdom had enough on its plate and could do without the presence of ambitious malcontents that would only threaten to destabilize the whole thing further. But in these strange times, it was no longer feasible to remain in the shadows and send cat's paws to eliminate troublesome threats. The Eight Fingers were an unreliable tool, and could possibly betray him at a crucial point. No, if he had any hopes of keeping them all above water, he had to do things the old-fashioned way.

"Baron Demezan, a good day to you," Raeven said, offering his courtesies to the man inside his personal sitting room. He raised his cane in salute. He had just returned to his quarters from another attempt to gain an audience with Princess Renner. "And, of course, it goes without saying, I would like to thank you for accepting my invitation."

"It is always a pleasure to call on you, lord Raeven, if you will allow me the opportunity," Demezan replied. He was a young noble, just barely past the prime of his youth, with a fresh black mustache and a lean, earnest face.

"Very good, very good. Come, shall we have tea?" Raeven asked.

They retired to the second room, where they could speak in more privacy. It was a place which had been warded as per his specifications long ago, though he was sure that the truly determined had ways to pierce such protections. In case these phantom conspirators had the means, then Raeven would readily admit to being beaten; there was simply nothing else he could have done now to correct that deficiency. At that point, it was simply futile to resist; he would salute the cleverer schemer.

As per courteous protocol, Raeven began by inquiring into the other noble's family. His father, in particular, had been a mentor of sorts for Raeven as a youth. And though his intentions at the moment were far from innocuous, at the very least he could claim to be looking after the son of the man who had helped him before.

Still, Raeven was never the sort to let personal feelings muddy his intentions, and he had used Demezen many times in the past as a tool to further his goals. As a member of the royal faction, he had used Demezen among many others in passing along "anonymous" information to and from either side of the factional rift.

After Katze though, nothing could prevent Demezen's ascendance through the ranks, to fill the gaps left by those who had been slain. And now, with all the departures of the "cowards", Demezen had risen further, becoming one of the few top-ranking royalists, a position not even his father had achieved. It complicated things, as Raeven still wanted to use him for his current plans, and yet he could not just consider him as an expendable pawn anymore.

"… I've sent near half of my men to watch over father and mother at the estates," Demezan said.

"Only that much? My dear baron, though I would not be presumptuous in ordering your affairs, are not those measures a tad inadequate?" The Demezen estates lay in the path of the Sorcerer-King's forces, should that undead think of marching on the Capital from E-Rantel. He shuddered to think what a lich on the warpath would be like, and what terrible things he could do to those he deemed his enemies. Thankfully, everything was still up in the air with regards to the ultimatum that had been sent.

"Your concern is noted, and appreciated, my dear Marquis," Demezen said. "And that is why I already have some contingencies in place. Should news reach them of any danger, my men are ready to take my family out to flee to the City-State Alliance. There they can call in some favors, allowing them to live in relative luxury for a long time." His expression shifted slightly. "Perhaps even to the end."

"How prudent." He was reminded of his own contingencies, which he had repeated with his wife again and again, all to ensure she and their child would survive even if he personally did not. After the harrowing events at Katze, he was struck with the realization that death was but a snap of the finger away, and that there was nothing he could really do about it. He was always thankful that he had decided not to bring his wife and child with him to the Capital, as that could have possibly trapped them in a situation that would see the end of Raeven's line. "And yet still you remain here, unlike many who have already fled like rats. I congratulate you on your sterling courage."

Demezen snorted derisively. "It was not difficult to choose the path of courage, my lord, I assure you. For I know that this path will also lead me to even greater heights, if I plan my course right. When they come crawling back after all this is over, begging for scraps, I will be there to laugh right in their faces."

He toasted the man with his glass. "That is your prerogative, and in some way, your right, my lord." He took a swig. Raeven judged that he could now begin. "Though it would perhaps it would behoove us nobles to commit ourselves to fulfilling our present responsibilities to the Kingdom."

Demezen's face twisted. "Ah, the war. A bad business, that. I can assure you, my lord, if I had been part of the great War Council, I would not have pushed for the idiot Prince's adventure, that I can assure you."

Decades of experience at court intrigue allowed him to hide his astonishment at such a frank statement. Had he just referred to Zanac as an idiot? Was that the true extent of his opinions? "Ah, I had no idea you held strong opinions about the prince." He would have to push and prod through this carefully.

"Pah! Everyone could see that it was foolish in hindsight to have gone and provoked the Sorcerer-King, even if it was unintended. In fact, I feel confident in saying that the King's unfortunate decision was all caused by his fool of a son. And let me tell you, if my father had been the King, then he would be well within his rights to punish me for such a brazen, misguided act!" The man's fervor seemed genuine, which told Raeven that this was indeed the full extent of his opinions regarding Zanac.

And just like that, he had lost another possible ally.

Raeven pursed his lips, and tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. "I'm sure we'll have an opportunity to tell His Majesty all of our grievances directly soon enough." Demezan made a grunt of derision, which was not missed.

"I do apologize, my lord. I do tend to get heated about certain things… But you cannot deny that all these events have all made fools of our hearts and minds. Where we must proceed with clear thoughts and logical minds, we are instead assailed by endless worry and fear. For this we should have the guidance of the gods, and if They do not speak, then at least we could have counted on His Majesty's aid."

"Do you also feel the same for the former King then?" he asked carefully.

"No. Of course not! He was a wise king. A good king. My father always lauded his strength. But age has made a mockery of his mind. It is the only reason I can see for this stupendous decision he has made." He shook his head, blinking. He seemed to recall he was speaking to a greater noble, who might have his own opinions about his views. "But I do realize that I did not come here to disparage the King behind his back. What would have of me, my lord? Another message to take?"

"Oh no no, nothing of that sort, I can assure you," Raeven said in tones of reassurance, and put down the glass on the table. He crossed his fingers before him and sighed. Time for the contingency. "I only wish—for now—to make use of your eyes and ears." He cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Demezan asked.

"It concerns the Princess," he said, in practically a whisper. At that, the other man's eyes took on a hint of cunning.

"So you've also heard the rumors, my lord? Yes, I can see why it would be worrying."

He shrugged. "I cannot be there to keep a constant watch—but you on the other hand can use your position as a Royalist to keep close to the Princess."

"I understand," Demezan said. "It seems fairly simple. In fact, I was a little curious about the matter myself." He chuckled. "Do you think that brainless woman is looking to curry support and take over the Throne herself?"

"I wish it were not so," Raeven said. "Then again, I am not completely sure of things anymore. Everything has changed. Everything is in flux. I can only credit the gods that we have not all fallen into the same madness that grips the cowards, that we stayed and remained true to the ideals of our ancestors."

"That is certainly true. We stand here now, on the precipice of history. It would be a shame to pass up this opportunity." Raeven filed that response for later. Demezan sounded more than a little too fervent about his latest statements. It indicated many things, and at the moment, none of them sounded good to Raeven. "Still, it will be interesting to discover if that Princess really is brewing up a plot. Mayhap she intends to seize the throne herself?"

"That would be… scandalous," Raeven hedged with his words, wary that Demezan was himself part of Renner's plot. "And stranger things have already happened. Still, at least then I would be able to actually know what she's intending. We cannot all dance on tenterhooks. The truth must be known!" He hoped he managed to portray his bluster well.

"Then I shall endeavor to do my best, my lord. I also wish to sate my curiosity to some extent."

Raeven smiled. "Thank you, my friend."

They exchanged a few more mundane pleasantries, but both parties were aware that the most important part of the meeting was over, and that it only natural to end it soon.

"To the Kingdom, Marquis," Demezan said, toasting his last glass of wine.

"Aye, to the future!" Raeven said, letting none of his true thoughts slip to the other noble. He was currently quite displeased with the other man, and had already written him off in his mind.

Later, after seeing Demevan depart his chambers, Raeven left his personal quarters and set off in a different direction of the Palace. His expression was blank, but his mind was a whirling torrent of activity.

The purpose of that conversation with the Baron had not been to gain his assistance with the Princess—it had been to sound him out as regards his opinion on the ascendant Prince. Had he been more neutral with his views, he would have given him the sales pitch to recruit him to his side. Alas, even he could no longer leverage his position to force the other noble to fall in line with his plot. And so, Raeven gave him the excuse of a "favor" to mask his intent of inviting the man for some tea, in order to avoid suspicion. In fact, Raeven was even doubtful that the man would become useful as regards to the Princess. Perhaps he was even a part of her plot already.

He presently arrived at another secluded wing of the Palace. Everything was silent and hushed, considering the fact that at this time of day most of the nobles were either still breaking their fast or were already gathering at some other place. If there had been more nobles remaining in the Capital, there was a sure chance of someone being present. But no one, not even the low-level noble workers, was present.

He went to a certain chamber, and made sure to lock it. The chamber was another sitting lounge, a place where nobles could receive guests. In here, another nobleman was already waiting. He wore a white beard, and his face was wrinkled and scarred. He held himself with a quiet venerability, his eyes glowing with a quiet intelligence.

The man coughed as Raeven crossed gazes with him. "Judging by your expression, Marquis Raeven, you were not as successful as you'd expected?"

Raeven sighed and shook his head. He stepped closer and sat down on the chair opposite. He laid his cane over his lap and settled into the cushions behind him. "It's just as you predicted. I don't know if it's because he was able to climb to his position, or if it's something else. A 'loyalist' though he may be, he is clearly someone who will be against the new King from the very start."

"Hoohoohoo. Well, I can't say I didn't warn you."

This man was the current head of the Royalist Faction, after all others had been killed or had fled. He had long been a staunch supporter of the King, as evidenced by his age and the many scars he claimed to possess on his body. Raeven knew he was one of those officers who had survived in King Ramposa III's many past wars in their youths, and that had secured his loyalty and that of his house to the Royalist faction, even if his ranking in the hierarchy of nobles was on the lower end. The man joked that if he had not fought in those wars he could well have become the King's household butler for his whole life. Instead, his battlefield record had awarded him and his house the status of an honored veteran, with the accompanied royal privileges. Since he did not occupy a more prominent position in his faction, he was therefore useful as one of Raeven's contacts on the other side of the fence, and used him to feed and receive information that was used for past intrigues.

Presently, as the man who had taken charge of the Royalists since the King's abdication, he was also able to provide Raeven with opportunities to help his cause. He was one of the few people he trusted enough to inform about his current plans, as he was also a known advocate for the Kingdom's stability.

Their current scheme, of course, was something born of desperation. It had been something cooked up by Raeven's mind as a last-ditch effort to salvage a difficult situation.

They would take over the government and proclaim themselves the interim "rulers" of the Re-Estize Kingdom, establishing a military council. Their first goal would be to conclude the disastrous war with the Roble Holy Kingdom through a separate peace deal that would not involve the Sorcerous Kingdom. While doing so, they would consolidate their power inside the Capital, essentially liquidating those who were not loyal to King Zanac.

Then, they would negotiate to free Zanac from the Sorcerer-King's clutches. Once he was freed and safely back inside the Capital, they would immediately transfer all of their temporary powers to the King, and from there assure the peaceful, if not orderly, transfer of power and responsibilities.

It was a plan fraught with many holes and difficulties. Chief of these problems was that neither Raeven nor his compatriots had any significant resources to leverage something that would buy Zanac's freedom. Raeven himself was already struggling to cover the costs of the constant parties he needed to organize as his obligation. They needed more men, more rich loyalists who could help shoulder the burden, with the promise that once the King had sorted out the Kingdom, their rewards would be repaid fully and more. Raeven had even figured that the lands of treacherous Marchers would make for a fine reward for those who assisted them with this endeavor.

Aside from the leader of the Royalists, Raeven had only been able to gather a few others. Most were staunch allies of Zanac, who were keen to see their support repaid now that the Prince was confirmed as King by his father. A couple of others were opportunists from lower houses, swayed to their cause for various reasons. They were less useful, being essentially destitute nobles, but a body was a body.

Yet all the while, time was rapidly running out. The situation at the Capital City could not last forever. Sooner or later, Pespea would have to face the Holy Kingdom's final assault. And they would have to figure out a way to answer the Sorerer-King's ultimatum.

It wasn't looking good. His latest attempt at recruitment with Demezan was a dismal failure. And it turned out that there were only just a handful nobles remaining who could reasonably be turned to their cause. The others were clearly "loyalists" in name only; nobles whom Raeven had fully expected to actually become Marchers, but hadn't for their own secret reasons and remained inside the Capital. He would wager they were already Marchers in their hearts, which meant that it was entirely possible they would use the Capital itself as the staging point of their rebellion. He had long written them off, intending to help the King liquidate them later should the need arise.

"If I may ask, what made you think he was not going to be useful in our little plan?" the man asked.

"He insulted the Prince," Raeven replied curtly. That alone was enough signal that it was no use trying to coax him into their little plot.

The man grimaced. "Ah. There's no bigger red flag than that." He shook his head and dabbed at his bald pate with his kerchief. "That is strange… He never once mentioned his feelings to me when we had our meetings. In that case, I do apologize, Marquis Raeven, for sending him your way. It was clearly a waste of time."

"I'm quite sure he only did that because he was talking to me," Raeven said. "The mask was gone, and he was free to speak his mind freely to… one such as I." Especially to a guy like him.

"Hohohohoh… And they all still think you to be the one most likely to become a Marcher. They don't even know the truth of it, even now."

"It has helped me do my part in preserving our kingdom. And that should be the most important thing in their minds. … But they are still men, and mortals on top of that. I will not fault their ambitions for being there; only that it should be so crippling now of all times."

"We must carry on, lord Raeven," the man replied, making a fist and shaking it firmly. "I did not live to my age, through how many seasons of war and blood, to see all that I have helped forge rust away into chaos. To see it all destroyed in less than a year! The Kingdom must stand once more. It must reforge its broken body. It must cut away at the rot that festers on it. And I hope to help see that vision through, before death claims my feeble body."

Raeven bowed, grateful to hear such eloquence and passion from a venerable man like him. "I too, want for nothing less than the best for our Kingdom. And though I was but young when the King rode in his last war, I too remember my father's deeds, and of the words he imparted to me. Together, we are strong."

"Your father was wise beyond his years. He too did not act like some lowborn unbefitting of his status. Skilled in valor on the field and blessed with a cunning mind at court—it is a shame that it no longer holds true for most of our nobility nowadays."

"They still might be there…" Raeven muttered, his brow furrowed in thought.

"…In any case," the man said after a long pause. "What will you do now? That was the last of the royalists I could throw at you? And of course, when I say 'last', I mean the last who can really be trusted to cleave to the plot. After your revelation that Demezan was a remarkable dissembler, I can no longer recommend some others. I could not sense it from Demezan, but I could smell the rat on these others. If even the good baron is suspect, then…"

"As said, we must keep the faith," Raeven said. "Please do not worry. The solution will present itself to us soon enough." And he was absolutely determined to find that solution.

They parted ways soon after that, as he did not wish to linger too long and risk discovery of Raeven's collusion with the "enemy" faction. Though at this point, it was hard to discern where the lines between the factions blurred and where it ended—as everything had been thrown on its head.

He spent the next evening back inside his quarters, scribing several letters that were to be sent back to his home. With things as dismal as they were, Raeven was now thinking of turning to his last resort.

It would be a full liquidation of the assets inside his domain, to be sold to no less than the Eight Fingers themselves. He knew he possessed prime farmland that was located next to a river that would be very strategically important for those criminals. By selling all but the land surrounding his mansion, he hoped to gain a lump sum of gold that would serve as Zanac's ransom. Then, if that was successful, and the Kingdom was put to rights, he would then just need to scheme to get his ancestral lands back, even if it would take a long time. It would probably be a task that would be left for his son.

In his mind, it was imperative that Zanac return to take the reins officially. But it was not completely for the sake of the Kingdom as he had proclaimed to the noble from before. He would save the Kingdom from ruin, yes, because he was part of it, and pride demanded that he and his house should support it to the end.

But there was another reason.

He also wanted to wrest control of the Kingdom from "them".

"Them" referred to a secret cabal of powerful individuals who seemed to lurk in the deepest shadows of the Kingdom. Where the Eight Fingers grew their malevolent roots through the underground, while the various nobles spun their webs just above it in view of the sun, this "cabal" lurked in the very shadows, cloaked in a guise that made all others oblivious to their presence. Even he had not been aware that such shadows existed, or that this cabal lurked there, plotting things from the very shadows.

He was half sure that they were not even from the Kingdom itself. They seemed more like powerful, well-connected people who watched over everything from above, like gods somehow, all while advancing their personal, unfathomable agenda. They claimed to be doing so for the "good of humanity", but he didn't buy that crap.

He couldn't go to anyone to inform them of the existence of these saboteurs. First, he could not trust that he would be talking to their minions or lackeys (or even to an actual member of their shadowy fraternity). Then, there was the very real chance that none of them would ever believe him. It was hard to entertain the idea of some mysterious outsiders, as it could have easily been explained away as a plot by the Eight Fingers, or some unscrupulous espionage by a foreign nation. Even he had thought the same, until circumstances had placed him directly in their insidious path.

It had all begun in the aftermath of that evil Jaldabaoth's invasion. He had been at his estate at the time, overseeing an upgrade to the mansion's security. In those "peaceful" days, there was a very real concern among the nobility that Jaldabaoth and his demons would end up raiding the Kingdom by ravaging distant demesnes. An effort had to be made to at least heighten the security, and if nothing else, provide an additional layer of alertness that would enable him and his family to escape unharmed should there have been an actual raid. There had even been talks to incorporate the Adventurer's Guild directly as an unofficial arm of the Kingdom, as it was clear that only the likes of Blue Rose and the mysterious Momon the Dark Hero were equipped to deal with the demon.

One day, a letter had been delivered directly to his mansion. They introduced themselves, and gave him well-wishes in the form of flowery words. He was suspicious, as whoever had sent the letter had not named themselves, and when he made inquiries, no one was even sure if a letter had indeed been sent. Even the messenger himself seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. And there were no reliable witnesses among his guards, or those who had seen the messenger approach. Even the one who had received the messenger, his head butler, had described the messenger as an "average-looking peasant", which did little to narrow things down. (In hindsight, it was clear there was some magic involved, after he had consulted with a few experts later on)

He was too prudent to dismiss it outright as some prank. But he did think nothing much of it, assuming perhaps that this was a ploy to recruit him for some sort of espionage by a foreign power, perhaps even Jircniv's goons in the Empire. The Baharuth Empire was known to keep a robust arm devoted solely to espionage, mostly masquerading as adventurers who were allowed to enter the Kingdom because of their affiliation with the Guild. It was a century-old scheme, dating to the time of Raeven's own great-grandfather, or perhaps even older. That was the reason why foreign adventurers were scrutinized extensively, even that Momon the Dark Hero—despite him signing up as a member of the Re-Estize Kingdom branch.

For a while he thought nothing of the matter. His thoughts then were more focused on the very real threat of Jaldabaoth; along with certain court intrigues that in hindsight seemed especially quaint and petty when considering their current situation.

And then there came the Katze Plains.

In the aftermath of that nightmarish massacre, they sent him another message.

He had been holed up inside his mansion, terrified of the memories he had brought back with him from that accursed battlefield. He had been determined to live out the rest of his life as a recluse, to leave it to his son to carry out the duties of his house in his stead.

Then the letter arrived, right when he had hit what seemed like the deepest point in his life. It felt so much like they were trying to goad him, to infuriate him to do something stupid. No one else would have dared try to incite a greater noble. To his shame he had even let his wife witness his anger and fury, thought thankfully it had only been a few bottles thrown at the wall.

That time they had "requested" that he return to the Capital. They did not need him to do anything at all beyond that, simply to show up and make himself visible at the Royal Palace. On that occasion, a return address was indicated, though when he hired an adventurer group to help track it down, they botched the job, and did not catch the letter receiver in the act. He had wanted to curse those fools for their ineptitude, but upon receiving their report, the reported events seemed to indicate that there really was something malicious that was actively working to hinder his efforts. It was as if they were aware that he had hired adventurers; and not only that, they knew which ones to target and obstruct.

Another letter came, confirming to him their hand in the events, and chiding him for acting so foolishly. They then repeated their demand for him to return, but this time they expressed their understanding of his skepticism in their existence. They then claimed they would give him three signs to watch for, to prove that they were indeed something real and present, and that refusing them would have consequences. Three events would occur in his own domain, close to each other, which would confirm the presence of their invisible hand.

Still doubtful, he waited for the next day, and there witnessed this cabal's terrible influence infiltrating his place of refuge. First, three peasants were involved in a terrible accident involving a wagon—two were gravely injured, while the last died with his head crushed beneath the wheel. That was exactly as the letter claimed, specifying three peasants and a wagon, and the terrible accident that would befall them.

Then another peasant came running, from his village that the cabal had also specified. They wailed that the well they used for water had been cursed: now there was fresh blood churning in the depths, so disturbingly fresh as if it had been drawn from a seeping wound. He himself had gone over to inspect the place, and had indeed found the well to be exactly as described in the letter—it now gushed blood as of a wound in the earth itself. Everyone was forbidden from touching it, and the village was evacuated immediately.

Lastly, as he surveyed the horrifying sight of blood, there came the third sign. The sky, which had once been clear and blue, darkened with clouds in just a blink. They rumbled with thunder, once; before instantly clearing, as if they had been blown away by a fierce wind—a wind that they did not feel. Needless to say, his peasants had been much disturbed by the sight, and sent representatives to him to demand a call for priests from the temples to cleanse what they thought was a curse. The priests were called for, as well as magic casters to analyze the blood. The former did their rites and assured the people that nothing was amiss.

But the magic casters, nearly all old men, supposedly skilled in much lore, were stumped by the blood. Diagnostic spells had been unable to truly discover the source of the blood. There was nothing strange about the blood itself, nor did it have any properties other than being just blood. Someone put forward the disturbing suggestion that it was like human blood, as they had been able to cast a ritual spell successfully by substituting the blood component with blood from the well. The whole village was sealed off by his orders, and a grant was sold at a pittance to these magic casters to research the phenomenon, as well as to attempt to solve the issue.

When faced with this casual exertion of their influence, he could do naught but acquiesce: he rode the fastest carriage he possessed to the Capital City on the next day. But he did order a general reorganizing of his retinue, not trusting in his man-at-arms anymore and suspecting that any one of them were accomplices to this cabal. And it was thus that he returned to the Capital City once more: having fled it in the face of overwhelming power, he was now forced to return for pretty much the same damned reasons.

His first suspicion was that it was an agent of the Slaine Theocracy who had managed those feats. No one else could possibly have possessed the raw power that could manifest the weather like what had happened. And it fit, in a way. Everyone who had brains between their ears already knew that the Theocracy had been using their powers to influence the human nations ever since they were established centuries ago. Any scholar worth their salt already recognized their hand behind many significant moments in history. And naturally, any high born who did not neglect their lessons also learned that tidbit, though they could never really prove it.

And there was one thing that the Theocracy always did: they never showed off their power unless absolutely necessary. They were known to be ever so jealous of anyone else acquiring their power that they hoarded it completely, even as the centuries passed. If they would not lift a finger to save an empire from crumbling dust, then they were unlikely to expend their power to move him across the board. The things that had been done to his estates were too flashy, too public, and ultimately far too wasteful to spend on him alone.

Next, he thought that it was some other rival nation, who wished to subvert the Re-Estize Kingdom through him. But if they were looking to coerce him into doing something more than show up at the Capital, they needed to re-examine their espionage methods. He wasn't a man who suffered being made to do things, especially if it went against what he stood for. They would need to actually place an enchantment on him, or he would seek to rebel and find some means to subvert their plans. Even now he was thinking up countermeasures for their influence, such as by keeping watch for any suspicious activity. He was even ready to die if it meant being forced to violate some important precept, like helping to assassinate the King. If they chose him for that, then they had another thing coming.

Of course, for him, the most likely suspect was Jaldabaoth and his minions. They seemed like the sort of outsider who would not be aware of how exactly things worked, and therefore could have chosen him at random as a "noble to corrupt". And the demon lord would definitely have the necessary power to do all the things it had done in his estate, as evidenced by what it had done later to the Holy Kingdom. It made things just a tad bit more nefarious, but nevertheless he was already working on a counter for even the demon. He had his secret means of communication with the Adventurer's Guild, and thus even if he did end up becoming manipulated or dead, they would at least get his information—allowing him to strike back at the monster from beyond the grave.

When Jaldabaoth was later reported to have been killed by Ainz Ooal Gown, he breathed a sigh of relief. For a while, it seemed that his suspicions were right, and that the demon's demise had helped free him from shackles. Nonetheless, right as he had returned once more to his estates to recuperate, another letter came; once more demanding his presence at the Capital.

And to prove they were serious, they then proceeded to burn an entire village.

All the villagers survived, and the burnt buildings could be rebuilt. But it was such a naked expression of power that he was forced to grit his teeth and acquiesce. Further investigation was not able to reveal the truth behind the arson—no one knew if it had been done with magical aid or if it was just mundane. In any case, right before departing he also ordered another restructuring of his guards, giving them the public reason of failing to properly take care of the fire before it had consumed everything. He also withdrew the grant for the blood well: a day later wreckers and purifiers arrived from the temple to destroy the abandoned village, using the power of the gods to leave the village as nothing but a burning cinder.

That decision had ended up trapping him inside the Capital, as the times of trouble had been brewing by that point. Still, he was determined to quietly search for means and methods of discovering the real identity of this cabal and exposing their presence, even in secret.

It didn't take long for him to piece together his hypothesis that this cabal was the one responsible for everything that was currently happening, including the so-called war with the Holy Kingdom and the rise of the Marchers. He could almost sense the shadow of their invisible hand over everything, manipulating people and events to their advantage.

It was clear what their goal was. A broken, disunited Re-Estize Kingdom was one ripe for the plucking, and it was easy to see how such malicious minds could have orchestrated the events so that it would lead to precisely this situation. And he absolutely hated the fact that he was just a pawn being used in the game, and that he had no idea what sort of role he had unwittingly played in their grand plan.

He sighed, and then put away his pen. Then again, this could all just be in his head. Perhaps there really was no grand conspiracy at work, and all of this was just the fault of human ambition colliding together in one great chaotic mass. In truth, it could really just have been the demon lord. Perhaps he was not really dead. How could anyone really trust the word of Ainz Ooal Gown about that? Perhaps they were colluding in secret, or the undead had somehow brought the other creature under its control. Perhaps it had faked its death, and Jaldabaoth was out there somewhere, biding his time in the shadows. He could certainly see the demon doing that, were he in its shoes.

He coughed and rubbed his aching forehead. It was all too much. "Got to sleep."

It was already close to midnight. He retired to sleep, fearing for what new damnation would spring up in the future.

It didn't take long for him to find out.

On the next morning, right after breakfast, he had been just about to settle in for another day of writing correspondences, as preparation for his emergency plan. Then his servant opened the door, and in came his comrade from before, the leader of the Royalist Faction.

He was breathless, his face red with exertion, panting and wheezing. It was clear that he had come here with considerable haste.

He rose at once, forgetting the papers on his desk and holding the man upright by the shoulders.

"My dear lord, please do sit! Please do calm yourself—you, get him something to drink at once!" He offered the man several kerchiefs to help mop the profuse sweat from his face. It was easy enough to conclude that something had happened to cause the man to exert himself more than his age allowed. "What on earth has happened?"

"It's—It's a disaster!" the man replied, squeezing out each word in between wheezes. "All—one—big—disaster—Lord Marquis Raeven!"

"What? Whatever do you mean?"

"Go!" he said. "Go. Audience—chamber. They—gathered. Disaster!" The man looked faint, as if he was just about to expire right there on the spot. For a moment, Raeven was torn, clearly intending to stay here and attend to the man until the doctor came. But by his furious look and the jerky gesticulations he made, his command was something Raeven had to do prioritize first.

"Very well. My servant shall attend to you here." Raeven stood and adjusted the front of his coat to look impeccable. "I shall do as you bid, my friend."

With a heart filled with trepidation, Raeven, went out towards the King's audience chamber, where court was usually held on normal days. With the advent of war, the court gatherings had been officially discontinued, but that did not stop the audience chamber from becoming a central point where the nobles mingled. It was as if they were all drawn to the allure of power represented by the throne, however empty it was; and they all wished to bask in its invisible presence.

In the wake of the abdication, the chamber had taken on an even greater allure: as a prelude to the official coronation of the new King, and as a museum for what had come past. Many young nobles had boasted of being present "at the turning of history", and clustered the chamber at daytime as if they were trying to become a part of the furniture or something.

There was one such gathering now, and Raeven was able to hear them before he saw them. Being on the second floor overlooking the chamber from above, Raeven pushed past a couple of armor-clad guards rustling past and looked down at the crowded chamber below. Many other noblemen also gathered at his sides, looking down with curiosity at the hubbub below.

He was immediately able to spot one striking member—Princess Renner herself, standing out in the middle of the large crowd that had gathered there. Her otherworldly beauty made it hard to miss seeing her, as she seemed to exude such a charismatic presence that it was impossible for any eyes to not be drawn to her first above all. Even the light from the windows and the lamps only seemed to illuminate her golden hair, and it was no exaggeration that it was breathtaking.

Raeven wondered what she was even doing there. But at the same time, seeing her in the middle of this group of nobles—which consisted of a number that were distressingly troublesome—gave him an instant spike of foreboding. This gathering would finally answer what she was plotting all along, but he knew it wasn't going to be anything good.

And to top it all off, there was the Baron Demezan himself, standing proud amid the throng, gazing all around him with a self-assured look on his face. Raeven could only shake his head at the man's audacity—then again, it appeared as if he had thrown in his lot with a group that was looking to be more successful than Raeven's own attempt. There were quite a few others he recognized among the assembly below: nearly all of them had publicly made their displeasure of the Abdication and Prince Zanac's succession. And when such a group gathered close to Princess Renner herself, there really were only a few conclusions on what this was about.

And none of them were good.

"What is this?" boomed the voice of a noble. He marched in from the side, his chest puffed outward, looking self-important as he approached the throne. He was one of the most outspoken of the War Council, a noble who had clawed his way up the Greater Noble faction with the tenacity of an actual rat. He was a puffed-up blowhard in Raeven's opinion, but that did not mean he was weak or useless. "Why have you gathered thus in front of the King's throne?"

It took Raeven all of one second to recognize a bit of pageantry when it was happening right before his eyes.

"Hear me brother, as well as all the rest of you gathered here!" said one of the nobles, his voice projecting out loudly and bouncing off the walls. It was another outspoken noble, an experienced dissembler and orator who had been an ardent supporter of the Roble war. "We apologize for our presumption in taking up so much space here in the King's own hallowed chamber! But we have come to enforce our old, inalienable rights granted to us ever since the dawn of our fair nation! Our voices will be heard! And our will shall be done!"

"And what is it you are here for? The King is not here. He has formally abdicated; and the next King is not yet here to take up the responsibilities of crown and scepter." The way the noble said it almost succeeded in concealing the bare-faced contempt on his face; but Raeven was not so easily fooled. The man's feelings for the Prince were all too clear to see.

Suddenly, he felt a flash of insight, as to what exactly they were here for.

"Brothers and sisters of the nobility," the representative said, "We also lament the fact that the King is not present here to proclaim His wisdom from that exalted throne. In fact, what is more egregious: he has abdicated his Throne! He has made such a grim and catastrophic decision, and right when this fair Kingdom needed him most! We are therefore left leaderless, floundering, while our enemies still batter at our doors, fools and barbarians who would take away all that we have accomplished for their own selfish ends! I ask you, was it right for King Ramposa to act thus?"

"The King…" said the other noble, shaking his head so vigorously that even his jowls moved. "Must have had his reasons. Perhaps, if we can no longer trust him, then we can trust the replacement he has chosen. Prince Zanac." Raeven did not miss how the man pointedly referred to Zanac as a mere Prince, denying him of the title which—according to all the laws of the Kingdom, was already his. To deny it was inviting treason: and if Zanac was here, then he was well within his rights to have the offending noble arrested.

The noble's answer, delivered with a sly look, only highlighted his open disdain for the King-in-name. "Ah yes, the Prince. While he indeed is the rightful, and perhaps, legitimate successor to the Exalted throne, in this again do we believe King Ramposa has erred in judgement. The Prince is a youth, aye, and he is brilliant—allegedly—and has many friends even now among us all. But he is still an untested youth, a man who has not yet been bloodied by the realities of ruling—indeed, a man who has sacrificed himself on a foolish quest that sent him against the feral hounds of the accursed Sorcerer-King himself! And all this before he has even been named 'King'? I ask you, oh noble ladies and gentlemen: is this really the sort of monarch we all aspire to serve? Is this failure not a great stain on the great history of our nation, that such a bumbling, naïve fool be allowed to take the helm of command?"

"You are speaking treason!" the other man shouted, though he didn't look at all furious. All around the gallery, Raeven could see that there were also other nobles who shared the same righteous anger. He was unsure if they were really angry, or if they were also just putting up an act. "You are allowed your opinions on the Royal Line, but it is not up to these 'opinions' that will decide reality! Prince Zanac is merely young; and the blame for the recent events cannot be solely placed on him."

"On the contrary, my dear count, we can most assuredly place all the blame on Zanac, and so much more!" The representative was now grinning widely, as if he was privy to some secret that only he knew—some juicy morsel that he was just waiting to toss into the fray of the watching nobles, to sate their collective appetites.

Accordingly, he raised a finger, and his face took on an unspeakably smug expression. "Our group possesses witnesses who can provide written testimony that will lay out the cold, naked truth to everyone here! Not just from certain people here, but also from others who yet serve in the front-lines, who have all been deceived by this second-rate schemer, this second-son, this simpering serpent-tongued sycophant!

"By leading this ill-fated assault on the Sorcerous Kingdom, we have now subsequently been beset by a creature most foul, who has already taken thousands of our worthy citizens, and upturned the very order which our Kings and our fathers and forefathers had carefully cultivated from years gone by! Now we are assailed by threats of more violence, of these absurd 'ultimatums' that will reduce us to nothing more than slaves, like that fool Jircniv who has already showed his belly like the craven he is! Are we then all expected to bow our heads as he has, and allow this undead monster to carve up our dominions piece by piece, all while we are forced to pay lip service to unworthy demihumans? If the news from E-Rantel are to be believed, it is law for them to associate with even the worst fiends from the Abelion Hills! Tell me, oh noble lords and ladies, do you wish for your children and your children's children to be free to fornicate with inhuman beings?" There was a great murmuring at that, and it was clear that the man's words had struck home. But he didn't rest to linger on the point too much. He continued his blistering invective:

"And who planned this absurd, ill-advised expedition? Why, none other than Prince Zanac! We have witness accounts, sworn affidavits, all laying the blame for the operation at his feet. It was he who insisted, quite strongly, over the objections of Marshal Pespea, over the other members of the War Council including yours truly, that this was going to be a 'miracle plan' that was to save us in this heinous war against the wretched Holy Kingdom! But he was as much a failure of a planner and a schemer as he was as a commander, as we can now see proven: his army obliterated, himself captured, at the mercy of the sworn enemy of all life, the Sorcerer-King! How are we to assume, if even he was freed, and brought to us, that he will assume the Throne not as himself, but as a pawn of this lich, made to dance to his tune like puppets? That he will end up leading the whole Kingdom into willing thralldom and servitude to this unholy creature? Can we really take such a chance, ladies and gentlemen? To risk everything that we hold so dear?"

This time there was no rejoinder; there didn't need to be. Those who were watching were already talking and whispering among themselves, their voices like the buzzing of many bees that had been disturbed from their hives. Judging from their expressions, they had all listened closely to the representative's words, and had even found some merit in them.

But it seemed that the speech was not yet over. The man raised his hands and shouted, "I beg peace! I beg peace! I have more to say! We have more to reveal!"

As soon as the buzzing words were silenced, the man continued to orate: "The prince's mistakes do not just end there, my noble ladies and gentlemen. In fact, he has a lot more to answer for. For not only can we lay the blame for inciting the Sorcerous Kingdom against us once more on him; he is also the main reason why we were forced into this war in the first place!"

At that, there came a collective series of gasps that went throughout the whole gallery. It felt so orchestrated that he initially suspected that everyone else in the room really was in on it. But if that were so, then what was the point of their grandstanding? There was no one else but the nobles here, and the guards wouldn't care. So, the only remaining conclusion, though sad to consider, was that it was wholly genuine.

"Honored lords and ladies, my discourse is still not complete. For the litany of accusations that we lay at Prince Zanac's feet are many still. Now, we have important testimony. Testimony from a witness that is beyond reproach, who has been privy to the Prince's thoughts for the longest time. If there is an important inquiry to be organized, then we shall certainly reveal it there. For now, to prevent this key witness from being waylaid by any sinister agents of the Prince who are present here, to protect his interests." It was obvious to Raeven who they were referring to. As someone who knew both people,

"But what is this testimony? Suffice it to say, honored ladies and gentlemen, it reveals one hideous fact about our Prince. An inescapable fact that will shake the very foundations of our current tribulations."

He paused, obviously for dramatic effect.

"Here is the truth that has never once been heard before, concerning our own Prince Zanac. It was on his word that war was decided between our nation and that of the Roble Holy Kingdom."

At that, the noise returned, actual shouting erupting as the nobles watching from the galleries started to argue amongst themselves. Some cried, "liar!" while others cursed the name of the Prince, shouting, "how dare he!" The proclamation had the intended effect: no single one of them could protest the claims in that oratory as vehement condemnations sprung from all around. And of course, the so-called defender of the throne watched silently, as if his earlier protestations had never happened.

"It is certainly unbelievable, ladies and gentlemen, that such knowledge passes my lips. But our witness is prepared to swear, before all our forefathers, before all the gods above, that it is as they claim. From the start, the Prince was all set on pursuing this gravely unwise choice, to pit his Kingdom against another in some misguided attempt at glory. Did he not care for all our soldiers who have since died? Did he not care for all that we have been forced to sacrifice to fuel his ambition?

"You might wonder why the other nobles did not object, like myself. For certainly the Prince was not yet King, and he could not alone proclaim war. But his lackeys were everywhere, whispering foul words in the King's ears. Prodding him back to war, pointing out enemies where nothing existed, pressing for urgency when there was none!

"And of course, those in the War Council, who now stand with us here as fellow comrades, did not suspect anything. They expressed their misgivings, but they assumed that the war had honest intentions, that supporting it would be to the good of the realm. None of them were aware of the Prince's true nature, of the vile plans that lurked in his fiendish heart." They seemed to be using a lot more of that strong language now, unafraid of damning the Prince with their words. By right, he was already King, and the guards here should have arrested him for his impudence. But Raeven saw that even he could not have called for such an arrest. The gallery seemed firmly in the other side's favor, and would have acted much like peasant mobs to tear him apart for daring to express a different opinion.

"And so this unworthy scion cajoled his aging father, spinning him promises and pulling on their connection by blood. And our King, gods bless his years, still reeling from grief from losing his heir, had no other choice but to listen to this second son, to indulge his fantasies as any father would for a child. The King was not blameless in this, but he is as much a victim of Zanac's crimes as any of us here.

"And so, King Ramposa stood up there on the throne and proclaimed the declaration that dragged us into yet another disastrous war, from which we have yet to escape. The promise of swift victory was unfulfilled when the Prince's dogs were soundly beaten, caught in the shameful act of banditry by our enemies. And Marshal Pespea was forced to make the best of the situation, for we were not prepared to prosecute a war so soon. He took our honest soldiers and our fellow nobles, and guided them as best he could, though it is clear that it is a hopeless war. Even now, as Marchers proclaim their defiance, the Holy Kingdom ravages our lands, and Pespea can do nothing but sit and watch and wait, hoping for a miracle from the gods." And now they were even spouting blatant lies, though Raeven knew it would be a fruitless effort to throw down the gauntlet and debate it. He had no witnesses to call upon but himself, and as there were those in the War Council who were now down there in the crowd, it would be pitting his word against theirs. The attempt would be doomed from the start, and he might just find himself clapped in irons for his effort.

"And then the Prince goes and provokes the other hornet's nest, all but dooming us. And worse still, in our darkest hour, our kind-hearted lord, our rightful ruler, chose to put his faith in such a devil of a prince, giving him the reins of the Kingdom that he does not even deserve!

"Well, we say no! Enough is enough! The Prince's incompetent attempts at statecraft have failed! It is clear that what this Kingdom needs is good, strong leadership! One that shall end this war on our terms, that will defend our sovereignty from that marauding undead and his 'ultimatums', that will see our glorious land put to right as we execute all Marcher traitors! And we shall all do it united, under the Throne!"

A loud cheer rose from the gallery, from those who had been moved by the words—or were otherwise in on the plan, playing along. Needless to say, a cheer was exactly the wrong thing that should have greeted words of treason.

The other noble now said, "But the King is… He is not here anymore. He has given his word and has abandoned his duties. It would be a grave misstep for us to demand his return, if you claim to follow the ancient laws and ways."

"Indeed, it would have been best for His Majesty to return to us in full. But we recognize the futility of such an act. Therefore, we shall enter a state of interregnum, and we shall call for a regent to be appointed! Until our problems are ended, they shall govern and administer the Kingdom, in place of the evil prince!" Raeven had to raise a brow at that.

"And who is this regent?"

"She stands before you all. You all recognize her, of course. The other blessed scion of the illustrious bloodline that has ruled our nation from its founding. Princess Renner herself."

Sheer silence followed. Even Raeven felt shaken to his core by the announcement. In a flash, everything seemed to click in his head at once. This was clearly a coup. A coup that had the Princess at its core. And these idiots wanted one thing: to proclaim a new government with the ringleaders at its head.

"What? You intend to seat her as King?" the noble exclaimed with surprise.

"Of course not. We are still bound by our laws. Though she is the daughter of our King, she cannot lay claim to the Throne. But she has the necessary blood, the blood that will be continued to spark the birth of a new line. A new, prestigious house that will see us to the glorious future we deserve!

"We cannot yet name whoever one of us will ascend to marry their lines with the Princess'. There is much to be done. And that is the reason for this brief regency. The people shall know their new Queen-Regent, who shall perform the duties as is expected of her. And then, we shall all decide, as one Kingdom, who among us shall lead—as the new King, as founder of the new dynasty!"

At first there were tentative claps. Then, as if confirming every last fear in Raeven's heart, the claps crescendoed into a full-blown applause. Nearly every noble there was clapping their hands, cheering, whistling—approving the proposal without any protest. They did not need to verify the claims put forward—it was enough that the solution to all their problems was right there before their eyes. Nobles like Demezan, whose lands had been threatened, would be able to breathe a sigh of relief as his lands would be saved (in his mind, at least), and that they would be able to take part in the founding of a new Kingdom.

Of course, that meant going along with the conspirators' sentiment. They would defy Ainz Ooal Gown's ultimatum—to their peril. One way or another, the Kingdom would end. Raeven could already see it: his plans, his home, and everything he had ever fought for—crumbling to dust all around him, ushered in by the excited clapping of a room filled with the oblivious, and the mad.

And in the middle of it all, through the ringing applause that seemed to shake the very audience chamber to its foundations, Raeven saw that there was at least one other who did not share in the joy, in the cheer, like him.

Princess Renner looked up, and smiled gently at him. He did not know why the sight of those warm, glittering eyes chilled him right to the bone, as if he was now staring into the soul-less gaze of a predatory insect.

---

When one normally beheld Zesshi Zetsumei, who now lived in the furthest depths of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, they almost always assumed that inside her half-elf mind teemed myriad plans ranging from the devious to the idiotic to the downright unfathomable. And naturally, one's opinion on the quality of her inner thoughts were colored by their perception of Zesshi: enemies would view her completely differently compared to her allies.

Of course, the reality, as Zesshi herself was more aware of, was vastly different. As she sat there in the middle of the Mother's Hall, most of the thoughts swirling in her mind were firmly set on one thing and one thing only. Her lover and father of her children, Ainz Ooal Gown.

It was therefore far more accurate to say that for Zesshi there was nothing else but Ainz, Ainz and Ainz. Ainz was embedded deep in her psyche, like an entangling plant. Every single thing she did seemed to remind her of Ainz. When she ate breakfast, she imagined Ainz-sama eating them hungrily from her naked body. When she bathed she reminisced of Ainz-sama being there with her, indulging in her wet, sweaty body.

Whenever she lay down on her bed, feeling so cold and alone if not for the presence of her lovely children growing inside her, she would recall the feel of Ainz-sama's touch, of his strong arms lifting her up and carrying her to the highest points of bliss. Inevitably when she woke and was reminded of his absence, she would start rolling around on the bed, back and forth, punching the mattress repeatedly as she wailed, "Waaaaaah…" before apologizing to the triplets for her violent behavior.

This state of hyper-focus had begun some days ago, when Ainz had bid them farewell to see to recent events in the Re-Estize Kingdom. Ever since then Zesshi and all the mothers of Nazarick had been entirely deprived of Ainz-sama, as if he had disappeared from their very lives. Zesshi herself felt that had it not been for the knowledge that Ainz-sama was more powerful than any god and could return to her anytime he wished, she would have gone mad from worry. She would have tried almost anything to go out and chase after him, even to the peril of her babies.

Instead, she remained in this seething, simmering state, her thoughts enveloped by memories of Ainz-sama and the ever-present painful, burning need in her heart (and in her lady parts) for His return.

All the other plans she had remained on hold. It was correct to say that if Albedo or anyone else deigned to execute them on this moment, she could have done nothing to raise a finger to stop their schemes, aside from defending herself and her babies if they tried attacking her directly. Her pent-up frustrations from the lack of Ainz kept her in a jumpy, energized state, with nowhere to vent it safely aside from His return. Even masturbating lost all its meaning for her: while she was able to get off pretty quick, it left her cold and wet and uncomfortable, and never relieved. Her mind still constantly burned with Ainz's image.

A distant part of her recognized that this was potentially dangerous for the children she was carrying. If she'd gotten to the point that she was regularly forgetting to take care of herself just because she was deprived of Ainz's presence, then that might also extend to her care for her children. Still, even doing the bare minimum was an excruciating thing, like a chore she was forced to do—though she did love her babies very much.

It was only that the madness was strong, and it would not take long for it to thoroughly consume her.

"Oh, is it just you here? That's a surprise," came a voice. Her mind subconsciously responded, even if the rest of her soul was adrift in a sea of memories, helpless and trapped in the yearning for her love.

"Good morning, Clementine," her voice responded, as she turned her head to smile brightly at the other woman that had just entered the Mother's Hall. "If you must know, I wasn't feeling all that good, so I went here to grab some tea."

"Why didn't you just ring the bell?" the blonde human asked with a shrug, reaching for a stray piece of bread from the food tables. She bit into it before sauntering over to sit on the corner cushion. It was the woman's favorite seat at this point; most of the mothers had taken to referring to it as "Clementine's Seat".

"It's more that I wanted to be here," Zesshi said pleasantly. It was a testament to her status as a descendant of the Players that she was able to stop herself from jumping out, pinning Clementine to the wall and scribe "Ainz-sama" repeatedly into her flesh using a bread knife. Of course, the rational part of her brain was able to keep the madness at bay by reasoning that Ainz-sama would be very disappointed, perhaps even mad, if such a thing had really happened. And of course, she wasn't the type to attack someone bearing Ainz-sama's quickened seed. It was disrespectful to the one she loved.

Deciding that talking to another being was preferable than seething impotently in silence, she placed her hand under her chin and said, "And if you must know, I'm also monitoring the remote mirror." Obviously, it wasn't to try and find Ainz, as he was protected by anti-divination wards more powerful than anything the Theocracy possessed. Though it was still useful to find where Ainz might be if a certain area was obscured by the remote mirror. Then again, Ainz-sama had stressed that he would be able to detect the presence of a remote mirror attempting to scry him; and he would instantly know it had come from Nazarick, as that was the only known location where the spell had been set up—barring the appearance of a powerful creature on the same level as Ainz himself. Zesshi was curious how he'd react, but not to the point of tarnishing her spotless record. Perhaps if she could insert the idea into the head of someone expendable instead…

Clementine chuckled and made a humming noise. A sly look came over her face. "Is that so? I knew it. You're just as bloodthirsty as all of us, Zesshi Zetsumei."

She rolled her eyes. "Did you already forget all the years you spent at the Theocracy? You do not get born as I am without learning the art of bleeding the enemy dry. Mastering it even."

"It's one thing to train born killers," Clementine said with a shrug. "It's another thing entirely to revel in the murderous thrill."

"Like you?"

Clementine's smile widened. She almost scoffed out loud.

"Personally, I don't get much thrill watching battles," Zesshi countered. "It's all so mundane. So boring."

Clementine's grin faded. "Ah, well, perhaps we really don't share much of the same mind after all." She looked off to the side, looking as if she had become completely bored of the conversation.

Just then a homunculus maid came bustling in, carrying a tray that she set before Zesshi. "Here you are ma'am. A pot of tea for your aching body."

"My thanks, Decrement," she said, smiling gratefully.

"It's no trouble, my lady," the blonde replied, curtsying.

At this point, she was confident in having gathered for herself a reliable source of information in the homunculus maids. While she had not suborned them all, it was still a respectable amount of them, who were allowed to go to every corner of Nazarick and pick up whatever bits and pieces of gossip that could be flying around at the time. She had deftly accomplished this by appeasing the maids' fantasies and thoughts about Ainz-sama, especially with regards to treating her as "the first" of the Mothers. It was a status the maids seemed to respect above all, and she was ruthless in exploiting it for her own ends.

She wasn't so naïve as to think that they were completely loyal to her. For all she knew, they were reporting everything they told her to someone like Albedo, or one of the Pleiades. But it was important that they give her information freely without suspecting what she was using it for. That not a single one of them would ever realize she was actively fishing for information, to make up for the fact that she really could not do anything more inside Nazarick.

She began with something simple. "How are things at the fifth floor?" She was referring to a certain "mess" that had occurred there. It was just gossip, just banal stuff, but it obscured her interest in the really important stuff.

"Oh, Mare-sama was able to take care of it in a jiffy!" Decrement replied.

"Were you called to help?"

"Oh no, we aren't really equipped for the sort of mess," she said. "They used Aura-sama and Mare-sama's servants for that. Oh, and that cute leaf girl also helped." By that she referred to the dryad that Ainz had also taken in from outside, which had been granted a generous home here deep in Nazarick.

Next, she moved on to asking the really important question. "… Well then, was there anything new…?"

"Oh yes," Decrement said cheerfully, slapping her hands together. Off to the side, Clementine perked up, suddenly seeming very interested. "There has indeed been a change my lady, and I'm sure the news has been going around Nazarick quick as you think."

"Oh?"

Decrement looked at Clementine, then back at her. "The Re-Estize Kingdom's refused Ainz-sama's ultimatum," she intoned in a no-nonsense voice. "The orders have come to Nazarick. Many have been called to mobilize in the invasion of the Kingdom."

Zesshi sat back with brow raised. "Indeed? Well, that is quite a development." Not that she really expected anything less from dumb mortals, but she did hold out hope that there were smart people among their number. Did they not realize that Ainz-sama was holding up a very real sword over their heads, and that only circumstances had prevented his hand from descending and crushing them all beneath His power?

"Really?" Clementine exclaimed, sounding a tad doubtful. "Those idiots! Fuhahaha!" she slapped her knee. "Those idiots really don't know when to stop!" She guffawed again. "Oh this is rich..! Ahahahaha…! Oh, there'll be a big bloodbath in the Kingdom, that much is certain!" And it seemed the two of them were of the same mindset. Well, it was obvious, really. The humans "on the ground" really had no idea of Ainz-sama's true power, and so were only able to make their decisions based on what they themselves knew.

"Thank you for the tea, Decrement," she said quietly to the maid. "You may leave."

"As you wish, my lady," the maid said, bowing.

As the maid left, Clementine was still howling. "Oh man… I can't believe… damn, my sides hurt."

"Don't laugh too hard now," Zesshi said chidingly, as she poured herself a cup of freshly brewed tea. "You're as likely to push the baby out."

Clementine snorted. "Fine, fine. But you have to admit it's really damned funny. What on earth would possess them to defy that Ainz at all? They've seen what he can do. And they didn't think they'd get crushed now?"

"Hmph. Well, I personally don't these in particular."

"And why not, Zesshi Zetsumei?"

Zesshi sighed and put away her teacup. She was able to prevent herself from just rolling her eyes at the oblivious woman. "Don't you see Clementine? Now Ainz-sama is going to be stuck in there for a couple more days. Let that sink in for a moment. At least a few more days of Ainz-sama not being here for us." She raised a brow. "Or are you still claiming you don't much care about it?"

"Ah, well…" Clementine stopped and trailed off, her laughter fading. "Shit. That is damned annoying."

"One can only hope for a quick end to their pathetic resistance," Zesshi said. "I don't care how it ends, only that it ends—"

Clementine said something in reply, however Zesshi was no longer listening to her. She was bent down, a hand on her belly. She felt something there that the healers had warned her would be happening soon. These "contractions" that were actually signs to herald the start of childbirth.

Her heart started jumping wildly in her breast in excitement. Her triplets were ready to come out. They were ready to be born at last.

---

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".