{A floating castle in the desert…}
"Are you sure another of these 'Players' has appeared?" asked the old necromancer. The great dragon nodded wearily.
"I am certain."
"Is it Jaldabaoth's bane? The Wind God's herald?" she inquired.
"I am not sure of that one's connection to Kikotenshin* or to any of Surshana's friends. If my suspicions are to be confirmed, this so-called Herald is dangerous…"
"First the Sorcerer King, and now this? What does it mean, Tsa?"
"The evil magic that brings YGGDRASIL and its Players to this world… it accelerates. Something has happened to alter it."
"You encountered this Player?"
"One of its 'NPCs', more likely. The NPC lacked equipment, but more than made up for it with his speed and raw strength." The great dragon glanced towards an empty suit of platinum armor standing nearby. Its breastplate sported a vast dent in one side, freshly added. The right pauldron of the armor had a deep gash in it, from a much earlier battle against a different foe.
"Do you think he is connected to the Sorcerer King?"
"Hm… This NPC referred to one named 'Allfather' as his master… You have more connections in the human lands than I. Can I impose upon you to investigate to see if this is a title used by the Sorcerer King, or someone else?"
"Allfather… Curious. I still keep in touch with Inberun. She resides there in the vicinity of this Sorcerer King nowadays. She might have our answers. If Allfather is an alias of the Sorcerer King, it is not a common one, or I would have heard it from her."
"I see… How is she, by the way? Does she go by Inberun these days? I imagine Landfall is not a name she would use in public, even after two centuries have passed..."
"I just call her Inberun between the two of us. Evileye is her current name."
"I see. Does she still…"
"I said it before, Tsa. If you want to make amends with her for your lies, go see her yourself and sort it out. I won't be a courier for your regrets. Not anymore."
The great dragon sighed forlornly. "I cannot go, at present. I had hoped to eventually make her understand that my deception was necessary."
"Well, at least she's immortal. That means you have all the time in the world to sort this out. Unlike the others."
"I know…" Tsaindorcus nodded in sorrow.
"Forgive me, Tsa, that was harsh of me. Anyway, what did you learn about this Allfather? The more information I can bring to Inberun, the better. Physical description, location, anything?"
"I learned nothing else, besides the title. The stranger I fought was arrogant, despite his strength. He claimed to feel no pain and that death had no power over him."
"And yet you lived…"
"He only retreated. Ironic that something as beautiful as the rainbow can bring and take such a powerful being as he. Be watchful, Rigrit, in your journeys. This 'Player' named Allfather may command powers as great as the Sorcerer King."
"I can handle myself, Tsa. See you soon."
As soon as Rigrit left, Tsaindorcus looked up at the pale moon in thought. "The Allfather… the Sorcerer King… Jaldabaoth… Honyopenyoko… the Slane Theocracy… Is there no end to the suffering of this world? One evil is cut down, and two more sprout in its place, each stronger than the last. Is it my task alone to cull the darkness?"
*Kikotenshin Nekonyan, one of the Six Great Gods worshipped in the Slane Theocracy as the God of Wind, and also one of the Four Great Gods revered in neighboring human countries to the Theocracy.
{Silksantex, Slane Theocracy…}
Gathered in a small, somber room, bathed in the gentle blue glow from a skylight, gathered the twelve people, grim-faced, who formed the central government of the Slane Theocracy. The Supreme Pontiff, the Six Cardinals, the Arch-Prelates Judicial, Legislative, and Executive, alongside the Director of the Research Institute, and the Grand Marshall. The Pontiff spoke.
"What the Thousand-Leagues Astrologer foretold to us has at last come to pass. The Catastrophe Dragon Lord of old has risen from the dead, risen from the Great Lake."
"Until we find someone with the gifts of the late Lady Kaire, I fear we may not be able to take any meaningful action other than observe the Catastrophe Dragon Lord from a safe distance," sighed the Arch-Prelate Judicial.
"But what of the other things that have transpired in this brief time? Why would the Holy Kingdom submit to the undead so suddenly?" asked the Cardinal of Death, Maximillian Lagier.
"Our diplomat was a fool to turn away their requests for aid. We should have predicted that the Sorcerer King would take advantage of their desperation," groaned the Arch-Prelate Executive. "I will have that one dismissed once we adjourn this meeting."
The Cardinal of Fire, Berenice Santini, spoke up. "Continuing on the matter of the Holy Kingdom, has any progress been made in positively identifying Jaldabaoth's Bane?"
Raymond Lauransan, Cardinal of Earth, the youngest of this assembly, shook his head. "None. No records that match descriptions of this stranger have been found in our archives. The accounts of the divine Kikotenshin Nekonyan say that he wielded a holy sword and wore the very Panoply of Radiance that resides with the girl in the Treasury. Our placeholder title as the Wind God's messenger has satisfied any questions from the foreign temples, and allowed us to conduct investigations without issue. Quite frankly, I believe any connection with the entity's powers and the divine Nekonyan is entirely coincidental."
"If that is so, Cardinal Lauransan, was it wise to spread such misinformation? Such things could seep into the public belief, and give this mysterious being undue influence in the future. What if it returns, aware of its recent popularity?" asked the Pontiff.
"It's more likely to move against the Sorcerer King, in that case. Not even our Godkin could do what the Sorcerer King did at Katze Plains. Jaldabaoth's Bane will provide some amount of distraction for the undead, allowing us precious time to prepare for war," replied Cardinal Lauransan. Eyes widened in the whole room at the Cardinal's suggestion. "Since the Sorcerer King is undead, and thus innately antagonistic to all life, we must accept the possibility that one day, it will bring war to us. It is as devious as it is powerful, both to a degree far greater than we nitially imagined. With the vassalization of the Holy Kingdom having proceeded so smoothly, it stands to reason that it might have exerted some amount of influence on this Demon Emperor. I cannot say whether the 'messenger' is an invention of the Sorcerer King as well."
Cardinal Santini stroked her chin in thought. "Yes… that is highly plausible, however, there is no concrete evidence for any of this. We cannot simply knock on E-Rantel's gates and make accusations. Such an action would be foolish."
The Director of the Research Institute chimed in. "We need not confront the Sorcerer King directly. It's within reason to believe that the Sorcerer King took the chance during the chaos of the war to plant infiltrators in the Holy Kingdom's leadership, and if so, they would be infiltrating positions high enough to influence the Holy Queen's decisions. We could always begin by having the Black Scripture covertly interrogate that paladin woman or her sister, for instance. Of course, that is not my decision to make."
"For sitting in an office all day tinkering with magic, you sure know politics," chuckled the Grand Marshall.
Cardinal Lagier stepped in. "It's good not to limit oneself. I think the esteemed Director's suggestion holds a great deal of merit. I will speak to the Black Scripture and see what can be done."
"Before we move on to the next topic," began the Director, "I believe I should mention that agents of the Clearwater and Windflower Scriptures were able to successfully gather a large sample of what we believe are shedded scales from the Catastrophe Dragon Lord while performing field reconnaissance at the Great Lake. We will reallocate our funding towards conducting various tests on the scales: mainly durability and the potential for scroll-making. The scales are large enough for such a purpose. We have been met with frustration for decades now in our attempts to create scrolls beyond the fourth tier of magic. Perhaps a change in our parchment substances is the thing we need to advance our technology."
"Good. Anything we can scavenge from a dragon will be of great use to us," smiled the Pontiff. "As it stands now, there is little we can do. We cannot wage war against the undead king. We only investigate Jaldabaoth's Bane. We can only safely observe the Catastrophe Dragon Lord. Given our lack of viable options, I think now might be the time we avenge the late Lady Faine's dignity, and help her daughter find some manner of peace. We have kept the girl idle out of fear of the Platinum Dragon Lord's reaction, but I think that is no longer necessary. To come south and attack us would leave his Council State vulnerable to attack from the Sorcerer King, Jaldabaoth's Bane, and Catastrophe Dragon Lord. Grand Marshall?"
"Agreed, Your Holiness. If we can take the fight to the elven defiler and vanquish him once and for all, our troops can move north to defend the Sorcerer Kingdom border in the event of an attack, fresh off of a hard-earned victory."
"So we are agreed then?" asked Cardinal Lauransan. "We will send the Captain and the Black Scripture to Hoburns, and the girl to deal with her father?"
"Indeed," said the Pontiff. "May the Six guard us."
{The Ninth Floor of Nazarick…}
The Floor Guardians of Nazarick received a few hours every week or so where they would not attend to their duties within their respective floors. Of course, such a thing was hardly their making. If they had their way, they would spend every minute of every day in service to Lord Ainz Ooal Gown. When Ainz himself suggested a vacation was perhaps the closest the Floor Guardians had ever come to openly opposing their Overlord's wishes. Ainz finally won them over once Demiurge managed to convince the others that the time off was for their own self-improvement, and thus to the long-term benefit of Nazarick and the glorification of Ainz, as well as one minor concession on Ainz's part, reducing the proposed vacation to regular off-time.
Being their leader, Albedo made this 'off-time' the appointed hour for a meeting among the Guardians, often whiling away the time in a remote conference room in the Ninth Floor. The meetings so far were spent in devoted analysis of things said by their creators. Most of these endeavors ended in mild bewilderment for those present, such as the Guardians' attempt to make sense of Lord Herohero's 'health exam,' which referred to him having various humanoid bodily organs despite being an Elder Black Ooze. But this time, the matter at hand was something completely different.
"So Albedo, I assume you saw Lord Ainz's new decoration on His desk?" asked Shalltear, seated daintily. "I didn't know severed heads were an aesthetic. I wonder if it's common in the world of the Supreme Beings."
Albedo scoffed. "I do not think so. I intended to bring up the matter here, actually. The so-called 'decoration' on Lord Ainz's desk is his newest advisor, officially hired today, in fact."
The rest of the Floor Guardians, being Cocytus, Demiurge, Aura, Mare, and Shalltear herself, gasped of almost one accord. "Eh?!"
Shalltear's eyebrow twitched. "An outsider? Giving… advice to the Supreme Being?!"
The concept sank in among the other Guardians. Demiurge tapped his finger uneasily upon the table. "It would be impossible for anyone to provide advice to a Supreme Being, as it is already known to Him. Albedo, you said Lord Ainz Himself named this severed head an advisor?"
"Yes."
Demiurge nodded, adjusting his spectacles. "Then clearly there is something deeper at work, beneath the surface."
"As. Expected. Of. You. Demiurge. You. Understand. The. Mind. Of. Lord. Ainz. The. Best. Of. Us," rumbled Cocytus.
"Thank you, Cocytus. But first, I need information to make a more plausible theory. What is the identity of this severed head?"
"Um…" murmured Mare. "I th-think his n-name was Mim? Mimir?"
Shalltear dived into her encyclopedia at once. "K… Kvasir… L… Lyngbakr…"
"You know, Shalltear, using the table of contents should help you find what you're looking for faster," said Albedo, in a patronizing tone.
"I was turning to it just now!"
"In the middle of the book?" questioned Albedo.
Shalltear refused to give Albedo the satisfaction of being right, but intensified her search. "Aha! Found it! Let's see… Mimir… a highly-intelligent severed head who gives counsel to Odin."
Demiurge smiled as if his point had just been proven. "And there you have it."
"What?" asked Aura.
"Oh… Well, remember what we concluded last meeting? Each of Lord Ainz's actions, no matter how great or small, is done for no less than three reasons."
"Can't you explain it to us, Demiurge?" asked Shalltear.
"To use the words of Lord Ainz Himself, 'how can you learn anything if I give all the answers?' How about you all discern three possible reasons this time?"
That was a veritable buffet for thought.
"Well," started Shalltear, "Mimir is supposed to give advice to Odin, so having Mimir here instead of in Asgard is an advantage for Lord Ainz, right?"
Demiurge grinned and nodded. "Good thinking, Shalltear. That was the first one I thought of as well. Any others?"
"Depending. On. Mimir's. Previous. Standing. In. Asgard. It. Is. Possible. That. He. Would. Be. A. Good. Informant. About. Asgard's. Strength. And. Capabilities. Which. Is. Highly. Desirable. To. Lord. Ainz. Since. Asgard. Cannot. Be. Accessed. By. [Gate]. For. Direct. Information. Gathering."
"If that were the case, wouldn't it be easier and faster to have Neuronist interrogate him?" countered Shalltear. "There'd be no risk of him giving false information if we did that instead."
"Then. Mimir. Must. Serve. As. More. Than. A. Source. Of. Information. For. If. You. Asked. That. Question. Shalltear. Then. Lord. Ainz. Must. Have. Considered. That. As. Well."
Knock, knock, knock! The conference room fell silent.
"Albedo, you didn't call anyone else here, did you?" asked Aura after a brief moment.
"No…" replied the Overseer. "Be ready for anything." She got up, and leaned against the door and uttered the first part of the sign. "All the glory of the world…"
The strongly-accented voice on the other side of the door replied. "Riddle-activated doors? Neat! It's just me, Mimir, Lord Ainz's new advisor, by the way. Any chance you could direct me to the Guardian Overseer? I just had a few things to ask about settling in to the new job."
"Leave," replied Albedo.
"I am on Lord Ainz's orders, you should know. Got them in writing… Or do I need to solve the riddle first? I'm good with those."
Albedo frowned, but even the possibility of ignoring Lord Ainz's was not something she would even consider doing. If the severed head was lying, however… there would be hell to pay.
"I will return shortly," she said to the others in the room. She opened the door, and quickly closed it behind her. Sure enough, Mimir, being carried by the Death Knight, was there. A roll of parchment was in the undead's other hand. "Now then, Lord Ainz's written orders? Give them to me. Now."
"Right, then! Uh, Death Knight, do you mind?"
The summoned undead presented the parchment to Albedo. She scrutinized the red seal, which, surprisingly, was genuine. She glanced incredulously at the severed head, and then broke the seal, and unrolled the paper. Sure enough, the message was written by Lord Ainz's own hand, a dark, modestly written script.
To Guardian Overseer Albedo:
Ensure Mimir is properly and comfortably situated within Nazarick. Also ensure he becomes acquainted with yourself and the other Floor Guardians. I am aware of the widespread disdain you and many within the Great Tomb of Nazarick hold for outsiders. My command is that you and your subordinates practice a high degree of restraint and patience in your dealings with Mimir, much in the same way tolerance towards Fluder Paradyne is given. That includes excusing any indecorum of his in my presence. It is paramount that he freely and willingly relays pertinent and vital intelligence about Asgard and the rest of Nine Worlds. For anyone with authority in Nazarick to treat him cruelly will limit the extent of his cooperation, and thus hinder the long-term goals of the Utopia Project.
Another matter of importance is that Mimir remains ignorant of anything that may cause him to reconsider aiding us, as he likely does not possess the same views as the majority of Nazarick. This encompasses such matters as the Imperial worker invasion, the demihuman invasion of the Holy Kingdom, and many of Demiurge's other projects. I will ask that you and your subordinates once again step into the shoes of an outsider (figuratively this time) and draw upon that perspective to make any further determinations as appropriate.
Further instructions:
Mimir is permitted free unescorted movement in the following areas:
Ninth and Tenth Floors (to include the Throne Room, Royal Suite, and recreational facilities).
The following areas are completely off-limits to Mimir without written or verbal permission from myself:
Treasury
Eighth Floor
Frozen Prison
Black Capsule
Floor Guardian Escort will be required when visiting the other floors of Nazarick, except those listed above.
You are more than welcome to consult me during work hours if any points of clarification are required for you to faithfully execute these orders.
I am relying on you.
Cordially,
Ainz Ooal Gown
Albedo had to concede that this was no fake or forgery. It was a genuine written order from the hand of Lord Ainz Himself. Of course, being possessed of transcendent intellect, Lord Ainz's plans were far beyond her, so clearly He could see some utility in this reanimated head that she could not. It all made sense. Albedo's look of suspicion was replaced by her usual mask of a facial expression: her soft smile.
"Lord Ainz's orders are understood. Please wait here."
{The Corpse of Thamur, at that same time…}
Atreus and his father climbed out from a tower. "Whew…" sighed the boy.
His father sheathed his axe, bloodied from a deadly fight with draugr just moments before. "You did well."
"Thanks!" said Mimir, his head dangling from the grizzled man's hip.
"The boy."
"Just having a bit of fun, you big grump!"
They made their way to the enormous hammer of Thamur, the dead Jötunn stonemason. Its monumental head rested against the tower they had just left.
{The Ninth Floor of Nazarick…}
"So then, Mimir. Tell us all about yourself. How do you stand out from the rest of those who may seek to serve Lord Ainz?" asked Demiurge to the severed head, currently set upon the conference room table.
"A good question, Master… Demiurge, was it?"
"Correct."
"Right then. If you want me to go through all my qualifications, we might be here a while, so I'll be brief. I'm an advisor and an ambassador. I've got centuries of experience in the trade. I've been all over the world, speak over a dozen languages as if I was born with them, and brokered more peace treaties and trade agreements than the collective number of hairs in this room. If it's got the word 'politics' in it, I'm bound to know something about it. That being said, most of my past gigs have ended since my employers let me go, or stopped listening to me, or most recently, imprisoned me in a tree and tortured me on a daily basis out of sadistic paranoia."
"Odin?" asked Albedo.
"Aye. But his tale is for another day, I think. For now, I believe I'm the subject at hand for this… lively interview panel, right?" The only response to Mimir was a set of confused stares. He started pulling at straws. "Alright then… er… since there aren't any more questions, mind if I ask one? What do you do for fun around here? I saw a lot of work being done but little in the way of rest and relaxation."
"Such concerns are unwarranted. We have the means to negate basic bodily needs," replied Albedo proudly.
"So you mean to tell me you work all day, every day? No time off? Not even an hour or two to slip away to the tavern with the lads?"
"Besides such times when Lord Ainz commands us to rest, we are at work."
"Well, now I know why they call this a tomb. You lot must be dead tired."
The ambient confusion intensified.
"Oh, come on, that was funny!" frowned Mimir.
Before anyone could say anything further, the room shuddered and rumbled faintly. Something was happening on the surface…
{The Corpse of Thamur…}
Atreus' father lifted the Giant's gigantic hammer above him, perching the head of the hammer on a shelf of ice just above where he and his son had fallen. He turned towards the boy. Mimir spoke up first.
"You're cracked, you know that? Bringing a giant hammer down on the ice… cracked but brilliant."
Atreus' father slapped Mimir lightly with a growl. He then turned his attention back to Atreus. "You are well?"
"Uh huh…" exhaled the boy, the adrenaline rush of falling hundreds of feet and nearly being smashed by an enormous hammer still fresh.
"Good. We should keep moving."
Author's Note: War has begun in the review section. Good.
