A/N) I ship Me/Poor Writing Decisions
but hey i never claimed that this was well-thought out. maybe not having progressed the plot for half a year has muddled my memory of what it used to be
Don't expect very fast updates from now on. This chapter just so happens to be a companion-piece to the last one, meant to be posted as fast as possible.
Chapter 12 - One Late Night, One Moderate Dose of Existential Dread
"Seriously!" Karatus howled. "I got—" The ranger lifted a burlap sack filled to the brim with Chai's Tears and a myriad of other herbs Ainz could only assume were precious in some way. "—all of this, while you were... What were you even doing?" There was something slightly judgemental (curious?) in the way he spoke that last sentence.
Darkness had finally fallen, completely enveloping the shaded woods. And there they sat, in that little clearing, the orange glow of a carefully assembled fire pit illuminating the group that were seated around the source of the crackling warmth.
The campfire sat in the middle, with Cherry Stem comfortably seated around it- the tents being a step or two away. Only the sputtering crackles of flame and strange sounds of exotic nocturnal insects could be heard just beneath the din of energetic conversation. ...Though Karatus' practical shrieking made the situation significantly less calm.
Milla just gave a snorting laugh, pouring a watery stew into a scratched and dirty wooden bowl before handing it off to Yon- who had been distributing old bread to all those present.
"Seems kinda obvious to me~!" She tittered, setting aside the ladle and reaching over to poke Bard in the ribs. "A dainty mage, all alone in the woods with his BIG, strong warrior escor-"
"Right, right. That's quite enough outta you." Yon huffed, cuffing the chattering farm girl in the back of the head with a piece of bread- which was stale and dry enough to equal steel in terms of toughness.
Karatus gave an exaggerated eye-roll while Bard merely smiled. Though the latter had a thoughtful look in his eyes that Ainz didn't like the look of. Shizu appeared more enamoured by the campfire, either not caring or not understanding what the "grown-ups" were talking about.
"I'm pretty sure that the Faith of the Six would consider such a relationship to be heresy." The resident archer deadpanned, and Momon made note of how the dwarf failed to fully hide a wince at the mention of this supposed religion and its enforcers.
"Hey." Milla grimaced. "It's just a joke, it'll be fine. Besides, none of us are inquisitors!" She passed off another bowl to Karatus who accepted it with a courteous nod.
"That you know of." Shizuka (of all people) said conspiratorially while still managing to keep her tone clipped and flat.
The others seemed to share a laugh at the little girl finally cracking a joke, as the littlest maid took the opportunity to scoot closer to the Supreme Being for the fourth time that evening.
'She'll end up in my lap at this rate.' Ainz noted. '...Though that might be what she wants.'
"Right you are." Yon followed up with an amused tone of voice, hastily handing the two newcomers a soup-filled wooden bowl each. "No cutlery." He grunted. "Just mop it up with this instead." The dwarf tossed the disguised angel a piece of rock-hard bread.
"Oh!" Milla exclaimed a bit too loudly. Everybody else- naturally- turned their heads towards the offending party. "I just realised that we'll get to see Mister Mysterious' face for the first time!" The armoured woman grinned a wolfish grin and waved a piece of bread in Ainz's general direction. ...Bard's muffled snicker at this didn't go unnoticed.
Yon, however, was less amused. "Oh come now, Missy. If you work yourself up like that you'll be disappointed." Momon's enhanced hearing barely caught the caster's mumbled "as if".
"I think I'll settle for this for now." Ainz replied cheerily, pulling up his visor to reveal a blinding smile but nothing more— Bard's reaction still fresh in his mind.
...
"Uh..." Karatus began. "I thought you'd be more... Grizzled." Karatus' befuddled visage disappeared in a blur as he screamed and ducked out of the way of one of Yon's bread-wielding swings.
"Oi!" The dwarven warrior barked. "No making fun o' someone's critical beard-deficiency!" Despite his scolding the tone was ultimately one of amusement. The sole woman of the original Cherry Stem, however, had a certain gleam in her eyes that Ainz hadn't seen since he spoke with Albedo not too long ago.
"He looks plenty grizzled to me." She noted, scratching her lightly scarred chin with a gloved hand. "...With a jaw like that one could guess that he's got a habit of chewing loose masonry?"
'What? ...I feel as if that would be wholly destructive and detrimental to the development of a proper jawline.'
She looked past a bickering Yon and Karatus to meet the eyes of a certain spell caster. The two of them had a look that was reminiscent of when Ainz communicated with somebody else using [Message], though the angel was quite certain those two weren't doing that— though some form of unspoken conversation was going on. And whatever they were silently agreeing on, Momon wanted no part of.
"No." The clear voice of Shizu was heard over the low crackling of the fire. "Masonry is too soft. Momon-san probably chews adamantine instead."
'Shizu, why.'
Milla chuckled at that answer, and Shizuka was—
'Was she grinning just then?' The Fallen Angel had to double take, seeing no trace of an expression on the automaton's face beyond that initial glimpse that may have been imaginary. '...Am I being teased? By Shizu?'
It was... A good thing, sort of. It meant that the Pleiade was comfortable enough to engage in a conversation where he wasn't so vastly superior in standing that no discourse could be had. The wide gap between the two was being bridged. But at the same time, the Supreme Being wasn't too sure if Shizu emoting was good for her programming or not.
Clearly, despite his face being mostly covered, whatever remained visible had to have shown off some level of emotion reflecting his confusion- as the entire camp (bar Shizu) broke out laughing at his non-verbal reaction. ...At least the automaton had the decency to seem sheepish. Ainz too cracked a smile, breaking away from the slightly constipated expression that he wore.
"Yeesh. Relax, Momon~!" Milla cackled. "It was very clearly a compliment!"
Evidently so, since the automaton's voice still contained that very same reverence and respect. The comment was likely less of a dig at him and something more resembling a sincere compliment. ...Either that or the battle-maid had taken his instructions about acting normal a bit too seriously- and ended up learning 'normal' from the closest thing they had to acquaintances.
'If she returns to the Tomb with a snarky attitude I'm factory-resetting her.' The Fallen Angel thought with no real conviction— clearly not considering making good on his silent threat.
"Yup. I swear, you have to work on it a little, the whole 'aloof warrior' approach won't work when you're not intimidating an entire guild!" Karatus joked. Bard's nose scrunched up a little, clearly remembering their slightly more... 'Genuine', interaction from before.
Momon allowed his shoulders to slump slightly, simply enjoying the atmosphere for a bit as the members of Cherry Stem struck up merry conversation. His mind was once more brought back to the subject of his guild-mates.
The moon, bright white, hung high above in the sky.
The trees, foliage and thicket surrounding the relatively barren glade were unyielding- dark enough that torches or spells would be necessary to traverse such a place, the light of the moon being soaked up by the dense treetops.
And in the clearing a crackling fire and a myriad of crude jokes drowned out the sound of the wind and leaves. Heat from the flame tickled Ainz's face, and whenever he turned away the chill of the night-air burned pleasantly in his lungs.
It was all oh so real in a way that Yggdrasil never was— never could be.
Earth was a toxic and broken place, where he had sought solace elsewhere. DVR was simply the best choice for socialisation, and in Suzuki's case- the only real option. He had thrown himself into it, and even when he was left as the one and only person in Ainz Ooal Gown, he had kept going.
The days of going out to meet people in person were long gone— if you intended to leave the comfortable safety of an air-filtered building, it was good to have an idea of where you were going. Online bonds became more quintessential and were generally deeper.
Or at least, that's what Suzuki thought.
Yggdrasil's popularity had fallen off, and while he remained...
No one else bothered. They simply moved on. Shared (spewed) their heartfelt (worthless) pleasantries and left. Not that the tired salary man could fault them on any level. He wouldn't even go as far as to call himself angry(, at least not at them).
(At a certain point it just felt like a funeral service. Where they'd all give their unoriginal condolences with the same boring wording that comes off as insincere as unintentionally possible.)
Eventually the threshold was crossed, and Suzuki Satoru wasn't even sure he was having fun anymore.
When did it become an obligation (with him feeling caged? Unable to let go)?
At what point in time did Yggdrasil go from an escapist fantasy into the second job he never realised he had taken on?
Wasn't it the slightest bit naive? Idiotic? Sinking so much time into relationships that could be (and indeed were) severed overnight? Did it never occur to him that his guildmates didn't stake their entire identity on Yggdrasil alone?
(Of course, most of the bitterness was directed towards himself, rather than the perfectly normal people that made perfectly understandable and rational decisions.)
...
'...I still want to see them. They don't deserve to be stuck back on Earth. Childish as it is... I wish they were here.'
"Er... Momon-san? Are you quite alright?" Bard inquired, causing the Supreme Being to be roused from his thoughts.
"Of course." Momon deflected smoothly, with little to no inflection in his voice.
"Really?" Milla scoffed. "'Cause you looked like you were glaring at the stew like it had personally wronged you." She grimaced, eyes shifting between her own bowl of soup and the dark-clad warrior. "Hey, I get that it probably ain't all that good— made with budget jerky and all that— but you haven't even tasted it yet."
Ainz cleared his throat though it came off as more of a nervous cough. "Maybe. Perhaps I'm more hesitant about the bread?" He joked, hitting the log upon which he sat with the hardened slice he had been given, eliciting a loud 'thunk'.
"It's fine." Shizu answered, dipping her slice in the stew before taking a bite.
'So she can eat?'
The automaton finished chewing before continuing on. "...Momon-san's the strongest. So his jaw is the strongest too." The dark warrior huffed indignantly as the other adventurers laughed at his playfully exaggerated misery.
"Strongest, eh?" Yon added thoughtfully, though the topic was forgotten before long— as energetic conversation sprung forth, with Cherry Stem eager to either learn more about the duo, or to simply share stories with them.
'This... Is nice, in a way.' The Supreme Being realised. 'They aren't the other Supreme Beings... I mean, nobody else could be. These people aren't replacements or shoo-ins. ...Friends aren't like tyres to be changed. Nor do I believe that making friends will be something that can be done in a day, a month or even a year.
...But this...?'
The corner of Ainz lips pulled up into the barest of smiles at the bickering group of adventurers, feeling something akin to pride as Shizu also took part with the occasional word.
Even if the soup and bread wasn't fantastic, it was more genuine than anything he has had since his mother's cooking. That alone was enough to bring a smile to his face.
'...It's a start.'
Much to the Supreme Being's hidden glee, the party did end up chatting long into the night.
"Aha~! So clearly, since the victim was stabbed, then the manservant did it! Since he got the— uh— mail breaker!" Karatus exclaimed, attempting to unravel the mystery story that the sole dwarf of the party had spun for them.
"...If acorn-for-brains actually gets it right I am crediting his deductive prowess to the local flora." Bard spoke under his breath.
"Nay." Yon denied, shooting down the ranger's theory with practised ease. "...Actually 'twas the quagoas. In their grand scheme to thwart the stability between the masters, they plotted Illidus' downfall." He declared triumphantly, though Karatus didn't share in the dwarven warrior's joy, if him chucking his wooden bowl into a nearby tree in a fit of disappointed rage was anything to go by.
At least Milla seemed appropriately amused, doubling over wheezing. Coinage once more traded hands, with the tanned adventurer forking over some cash to Bard and— Shizu?
'On second thought, maybe these people might be a bad influence. ...Did she even have money to make a bet?'
"In all fairness, it was Yon's story. I suppose this was the expected outcome." Momon mumbled, remembering the info the de facto leader of the group had imparted on him before they headed back to camp.
"...Can't be the quagoas every time." The mollified plant-enthusiast complained, causing the caster to sigh and share a meaningful look with Milla.
"I assure you that it most definitely can."
"Don't get the fascinations people have with weapons, really." Bard decided to throw out with little warning, effortlessly managing to draw the ire of the two original warriors of Cherry Stem.
"Ay watch it!" Milla huffed. "Have you ever seen some of the enchanted weapons that the top-tier adventurers use?! Surely ya are able to appreciate that much, at the very least!" The dwarf gave a low, growling cough before backing up the red-haired adventurer's statement.
"Aye. Surely yer able to appreciate the magical aspect o' weapon-crafting, snooty scholar." He grinned and hoisted one of his worn and torn horseman's axes over his head- showing off the inscriptions that glimmered ominously under the light of the campfire. "Dated as it is, can't beat good ole' runecraft. ...Even if better alternatives are 'ere." Yon sounded almost pained to admit that last part.
Ainz's ears perked beneath his helmet as he made a silent note to look further into this 'runecraft' at a later date. Even if the dual-battleaxes presented by Yon were rusted and in poor shape, there was undoubtedly some manner of magic in play.
"Respectable." Karatus nodded, hoisting his bow. "I've heard people griping about how some bows are disgusting because some have their string made out of animal tendons." The archer sighed.
"Hm..." The combat-maid began. "...I like ranged weaponry. Feels better to fight from a distance, I think." She spoke softly yet clearly, not really intending to elaborate further. Though her two cents still drew adoring coos from Milla and an encouraging nod from Karatus. Since Shizu spoke no more, the eyes were naturally drawn to Momon.
"Lemme guess~!" The gold-ranked archer pushed his index and middle fingers against his temple and took on a look of deep concentration. "... I think you're passionate about... Big swords-!" Yon scoffed, eyeing the positively monstrous obsidian great swords adorning the imposing warrior's back.
'Truthfully, I'm more of a staff or wand-type of person.' Ainz noted matter-of-factly in his head.
"...Er, I suppose so." He admitted, contrasting his innermost thoughts. "...Though frankly, I don't much see the appeal. As long as it is able to cut." His lukewarm response earned him disappointed groans from one half of the camp, and a contemplative look from the caster.
"Not wrong..." Bard mumbled. "Personally I believe Momon-san has a fair point— a weapon is made for combat. Anything else is secondary. ...Though the arms he wields are far more elegant than the rusted trowels you two classify as weaponry."
"—WHAT WAS THAT, WHELP?" Yon roared. "Maybe ya'd get some NEWFOUND LOVE for the ELEGANCE of my SKULL-SPLITTER AXES when I RAM 'EM UP YER BONEY ARSE!"
Needless to say, it ended with several 'uwah's from Shizu while Karatus and Momon stepped in to stop the infuriated midget of death, all while Milla looked annoyed by Bard's mild amusement.
"Well, you see, fungal infections are actually very interesting, because the mycel—"
"OH IN THE NAME OF THE FOUR, SOMEONE SHUT HIM UP!"
"...I'll say it again, keep shouting and you'll be drawing even more attention to our camp."
"Been awfully quiet," Milla noted with her eyes sweeping across the impervious darkness that covered the woods.
"It most certainly has not." Bard scoffed. "...If any of you showed even one iota of sir Momon's level of level-headed professionality, maybe I'd concur."
"I meant in terms of glorious glorious violence. There ain't a hint of anything dangerous around here. Nothin' to beset us."
As if to refute her words, the distant howling of wolves could be heard, confirming that they indeed were out in the wild.
"You were saying?" Karatus snarked, pulling away from whatever one-sided conversation Yon had pulled Shizuka into.
The platinum-ranked adventurer snorted. "Not like that, blockhead. I meant that we haven't been jumped by goblins, trolls or— ya know— the wolves!" Her hearty exclamation silenced the other ongoing conversations and drew their attention. "Half the reason this job pays well is due to the roundabout journey, and the other half is due to the things that try ta' murder us during that journey!"
"So—"
"Why aren't we being murdered?!"
A few chuckles and snorts could be heard at the genuine confusion in Milla's tone.
"Do... Do you want to be murdered?" Karatus tittered.
"HELL NO!" She got out of her seat with a roar, the sudden movement nearly startling the dwarf out of his. "...But things have gone well so far. Too well!"
"*Cough*. Masochist. *Cough*."
"Zip it, dwarf! Just you wait, Bard's [Tripwire] will fail to activate and we'll have to tussle with wolves in the dead of night! I mean... The fight itself will be helluva lot better than just lyin around, but getting ambushed? No!"
"Someone's paranoid." Bard mumbled, clearly annoyed by the sudden ruckus. Milla clearly didn't budge, instead blowing a raspberry at him.
"Paranoia is what keeps people alive sometimes." Momon suddenly interjected, turning a few heads towards him. "—Carelessness can kill."
'Evidently I've disregarded my own advice... Since Shizu and I are here in unfamiliar territory right now. Surely it can't be that bad— if creatures as weak as adventurers can thrive, there's no reason I cannot.'
The dark warrior looked around, noting the suddenly awkward mood.
'Ah.'
"Apologies, I did not mean to bring you all down."
"No, no." Bard replied, looking a bit more browbeaten. "...You are correct. In our line of work, some paranoia is necessary. In fact, I believe it's a common trait among the higher ranking adventurers for, uh, obvious reasons."
...
"...Can we start bullying Milla-san again?" Shizu flatly stated without so much as a warning— Yon and Karatus cackling at the snubbed expression on the red-headed warrior's face. As the inevitable chitchat began to pick back up, the dark warrior leaned in closer to the sole mage of the party.
"[Tripwire]? I don't believe I've heard of that spell before," he stated, not having recalled ever seeing such a basic 2nd-Tier spell in Yggdrasil.
Bard raised an eyebrow at that. "...Is that so? I was under the impression that it was a rather common spell. Although..." The caster's face scrunched up into a grimace. "No, I understand. I could explain it to you, if you so wish?"
"I'd love that." Momon replied politely, eager to learn more about the actual application of magic outside of a game-system.
"...Supposedly, sprinkling salt at the opening of a mine is considered good luck." Yon explained. "Rock-salt was oft used as expensive seasoning for the rich ones- not to mention a way to get even richer via trade— so to waste a precious commodity by salting the entrance to a mine would apparently yield rewards of some sort." The dwarf snorted.
"Absolute nonsense." He declared. "They can waste their bloody salt if they wish, while I'll be eatin' like a king!" Yon laughed triumphantly at the idea of owning a large quantity of salt, and the group shared in his jovial spirit of a little while before he gently elbowed Karatus. "How about you? Any stupid superstitions to share?"
The ranger hummed. "Ah, I believe that the number eight was considered a sign of ill fortune in my village... Due to the Greed Kings, I think... Though I'm not too sure." Ainz made note of the mention of yet another few legendary figures from this world's past.
"Fascinating." Bard filled the silence. "That's undoubtedly one of the tamer examples, at least in terms of origin. ...I really must wonder how some of the more outlandish superstitions began."
"Right-o." Karatus chirped. "What about you two? C'mon, gotta say something when Milla or I go off on a weird tangent!"
"Oh, this will be good." Milla singsonged, leaning forward with a grin on her face, presumably interested in learning more about the enigmatic newcomers.
Shizuka turned to slowly look at her father(?). So too did Momon subtly take a glance at the maid upon hearing movement from her turning towards him. Indeed, the Pleiade looked as interested about what her master had to say as the strange humans they were travelling with.
The only person that looked apprehensive or cautious was Bard, who had gotten a slight peek behind the curtain, though even his trepidation gave way to curiosity upon noticing how Shizuka appeared to look closely at her father-figure.
'Do they not come from the same place?' He wondered. The image of a hardened warrior hailing from a hellish biome adopting an orphan popped up in the spell-caster's mind. Each time he was offered a glance of Momon's character, the more impressed he was by what he had seen— the mage's respect for the dark warrior constantly growing.
As Bard quietly praised the character of Momon that had been built up in his mind's eye, Ainz quickly wracked his brain— he knew little to nothing about this world's culture or superstitions, but still felt somewhat obligated to share with the others. The disguised Angel quietly sucked some brisk night-air through his clenched teeth, eyes flitting between the expectant faces of his new comrades.
'...Oh, they're all expecting something. Maybe just some old wives' tale from back on earth...?'
"Well. The number four is often associated with death due to how similar they both sound." Ainz recalled.
"I see." Bard nodded. "That does make sense, and is indeed consistent with many other similar beliefs. If I may ask, what would 'four' and 'death' sound like in your native tongue?"
...
'...What? What do you mean? Can't you hear the similarities between four (四 - Shi) and death (死 - Shi)? ...The written language of this world is unfamiliar, yet the spoken language is Japanese... Isn't it?'
The Supreme Being's mind quickly flitted between the possibilities before opting for the easiest solution:
"No comment."
Clamming up and not giving a proper answer.
His lacklustre reply seemed to garner a lukewarm response from the gang, ranging from annoyed to mildly amused. That would have to do, as he quietly contemplated the possible answers to this particular titbit of information.
'Aaand now they're disappointed. Quick~! Redirect!'
"No matter," he waved a hand dismissively, though the disappointed expressions on Milla and Karatus' faces seemed to disagree. "Yon." The dark warrior called out.
"Hm?"
"I recall that you... Referred to Cerebrate as 'Wick-Boiler' at one point. I— can't say that I am too familiar with such a term," Momon explained, as a few members of Cherry Stem appeared quite excited to engage in another rousing game of 'Bash-The-Dumbass' with the aforementioned adamantine adventurer as the communal punching bag.
The dwarf offered a wicked grin in return. "Aye. Unlike the silly superstitions some people have, the insult isn't without reason. 'Tis rich with history!"
Shizu hummed. "Like dumbass?"
"Shizuka—!" Momon scolded, sounding more than a little shocked at the maid's use of an expletive. "Don't say that."
"Sorry, Momon-san," the young maid replied, looking sufficiently cowed by the Supreme Being's discontentment.
Bard offered a fond sigh, entertained by the dark warrior's surprise. "Yes. Like 'dumbass'," he confirmed. Ainz merely shook his head, wondering if he had made a mistake changing the subject on a whim.
"Well." Yon continued, paying Milla's bewilderment and Karatus' laughter no heed. "Wick-boiler is a term for a stupid or incompetent person. 'Cause it'd take a lotta effort to accidentally boil a candlewick with wax when doing somethin' as simple as making candlesticks.*"
"Huh." The Supreme Being replied wordlessly— filing away that particular fact under the segment of his brain where he keeps the oceanic quantities of 'bullshit trivia' he has picked up over the years.
"That's not a lot of details." Milla noted quietly as she skimmed through the yellowed parchment that contained the request. "...Honestly, if you keep picking these weird ones I oughta read through them before blindly following along."
The fire has since dimmed a little, with the group having worked through the rather substantial hoard of firewood Shizu had gathered. Milla paused for a brief moment before reaching over the fire pit and handing off the request to Karatus.
The ranger's brows knit together tighter as he read. "A rather strange request." He decided. A request to check-up on someone is already a bit 'out there', though what stood out the most was how little evidence the family needed to write the man off as dead.
"...There exists a possibility that we may find nothing more than an empty home when he's out for a walk. Yet they would still declare the man dead?"
Bard shrugged. "Could be any number of things. The man might not be too well-loved. Or it could be a matter of inheritance— in which case it is easier to hire an outsider to do the bare minimum of the work needed to that a name can be crossed off a list."
Karatus seemed to bristle before speaking. "Maybe. But the remote location in tandem with everything else smells a bit sour." Of course it was fishy. Ainz wasn't completely oblivious— it was merely that the possibility of adventure beyond pest-extermination seemed exciting. Like and itch he never knew he needed to scratch.
"...You think something slipped through the guild's filter?"
"Seems unlikely, methinks." Yon added. "There are stricter rules for posting requests than becoming an adventurer— 'specially when bad jobs could kill the guild's own. Zuranon sure don't need more corpses for their twisted means."
The ranger clicked his tongue, and it took a while before the group was able to return to jovial conversation. ...Though the possibility of things going south still lingered in the back of their minds.
Whether they pressed on without a complaint was due to a sense of duty or a sense of pride was anybody's guess. Momon did manage to catch a certain dwarf repeatedly staring at Bard whenever the man placed his attention elsewhere. It was not necessarily an accusatory look— more so confused, if not a little disappointed.
The only thing that could be definitively decided was how the heavy steel blades weighed heavier and heavier on the Fallen Angel's shoulders- with the man in question itching to give them a proper 'initiation'. Even if he enjoyed himself, the faintest sense of anticipation- the promise of a thrill, eroding his previous sense of paranoid caution- was far more alluring.
"I don't think there is a world where Tirius' works could be considered in any way inferior to the old greats. ...Even if he has written a lot of weird stuff." Karatus decided, to which Bard seemed to agree.
Even Shizu gave the pair a barely audible 'mhm'.
'Oi. You don't— couldn't know what those two are talking about.' Apparently the dark warrior's confusion was plainly visible for all to see, or Bard was finally starting to catch on to how— much like a dementia ridden grandfather in his nineties— Momon was out of the loop on just about everything.
"Tirius Voremson? The author of 'To Tie a Knot Upon a Cherry Stem'?" The caster prodded carefully. "...The story that serves as the namesake for our group...?"
'Uh. No.'
The lands in which their camp lay has long fallen dark, and so too have the crickets stopped chirping. Quite unfortunate, as the sounds of crickets would have been remarkably fitting in this instance.
"Er— right." Bard murmured, his formal exterior breaking apart a little from the disbelief. The man looked even more dishevelled than usual, much to the amusement of all the others, with Milla and Yon sharing a few gossipy whispers sounding suspiciously like "haven't we been here before?"
"Then... What is it about?" At this point, Ainz wasn't sure if he was asking for the sake of formality, or because Suzuki Satoru's habit of stockpiling a wide assortment of random knowledge has grown outright malignant to the point of driving his motivations.
"Someone gag him before he starts reciting the entire god damn novel word for word," Karatus scoffed. ("Isn't that your thing?" Yon seemed to whisper back.)
"Well—"
"Four sentences or less!" Milla interjected, causing the mage to shoot her a dirty look. She returned a bright smile with gusto. Another resigned sigh came from the caster, reminding Ainz an awful lot of himself whenever the antics of Nazarick left him particularly exasperated.
"It's... A short novel about the son of a rich merchant meeting a noble girl in a cherry orchard," he began.
The Supreme Being shot Bard a slight grin. "Sounds like the makings of a classic tale of romance already."
"That it does." The mage conceded with a slightly melancholic smile. He cleared his throat and adjusted his fine robes before continuing on— the remainder of the adventuring team uncharacteristically quiet, almost as if they were listening with rapt attention.
"The two of them fall in love, of course, but the son of the merchant gets sent off to war and-"
"Things go tits up." Yon offered with a subtle grimace pulling on his strong features. Bard nodded sagely.
"...Things go tits up." He affirmed. "A crucial battle was lost, and when the son returns home, he's down a family, down an inheritance and down a limb." The caster gave pause, looking distant, almost. "And yet the noble girl still wants to spend her life with him."
What could only be described as the faintest of smiles could be seen on the Supreme One's lips, as he quietly wondered if love is that loyal outside of fairy tales. (Some softer crevice of his mind lingers on a certain succubus who was most definitely waiting for him to get home. Hopefully in one piece. The very idea of it warms him more than the fire does, somehow.)
"They simply sit there— in the cherry orchard in which they first met. The son no longer has material wealth, and in order to propose he makes a ring... By tying a cherry stem around her finger."
"That's... Quite romantic." Ainz managed.
"It is." The caster smiled warmly. "Since I know you are able to read... You should have a gander sometime. I don't believe that my very brief summary does it justice."
"Shame they die when the front lines reach 'em." Milla noted bitterly, tossing another stick into the fading fire as Ainz looked on incredulously.
Bard frowned. "That's open to interpretation." He bit out.
"Yeah? ...Well, I don't much like their odds." Karatus mumbled, barely audible with his head tilted all the way back.
"BWAHAHAHA~!" The redhead cackled at Karatus' misfortune as the ranger in question flushed a brilliant cherry red. Even the mostly neutral-faced Bard allowed himself a tittering laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Milla... Please—" The tanned adventurer began hesitantly, though his plea was drowned out by Yon laughing himself hoarse while slapping his knee. Even Shizuka had pursed her lips a little, as if holding back a smile.
"No no no, lad...!" Yon managed. "Yer not getting outta this one! Momon, did he really?"
The dark warrior chuckled good-naturedly. "That he did," the disguised Supreme Being confirmed.
"So—" Bard paused, having to hold back another wave of snickers. "—One of the first things you did upon meeting Momon-san and Shizuka-san was to scrape junk off the bottom— of their boots?"
"Yes. He was weird." Shizu stated simply, drawing more laughter from the adventuring team.
"Oh gods!" Milla breathed. "Thank fuck he just asked Momon, I don't know what coulda happened if he ran up to the literal child—" she gestured at Shizuka's petite form— "and started to rant and rove about seeing her feet."
The camp erupted into more uproarious laughter at the ranger's social difficulties, much to his growing mortification.
"Well, nothing left to do at this point but to hit the sack," Karatus declared, having shaken off his remaining chagrined embarrassment, though he knew for sure that his teammates would never allow him to live down his awkward first interaction with a certain dark warrior.
In response, Yon simply hopped off his log and stretched his stubby limbs, eliciting loud pops from his stiff joints. "Aye. Who's taking the first shift then? Better to avoid being caught with our pants down. I didn't walk upwards o' six leagues to be shivved by a green-skin."
Ainz lazily raised an armoured hand. "Me and Shizuka can take the first shift. We'll wake you up if need be." Milla grimaced slightly, looking ready to make some potentially distrusting remark, though a slight glare from Bard shut her up.
"Then... We'll leave it to you." He gave the dark warrior a weak smile, and the combat-maid a slight nod. Some odd sign of trust it would seem— leaving the dark warrior wondering about their last private conversation, and whatever impression he must have made. "...I'll be turning in for the night."
With that, the crew of adventurers retreated into their two respective tents, leaving the pair hailing from Nazarick to their own devices.
A good long while passed with neither of them saying anything, enjoying the simple yet gentle atmosphere brought about by a fading flame and the faintest sound of swaying foliage. One well and truly would have had to pay close attention to notice the eavesdropping-countermeasures that were activated in that moment.
"...So." Ainz spoke up, with not a little mirth colouring his voice, which had now regained its mischievously elegant timbre that was so familiar to Nazarick's denizens. Though the orator in question may have appeared rather menacing— being a bulky armoured form hunched over in a wooded forest after nightfall— his soft-spoken tone hinted at the more pleasant nature beneath the surface.
"A 'father', was it?" He questioned. Though inquisitive, it was plainly evident that he was neither accusatory nor the slightest bit upset. Merely curious, if not a little hopeful. (Though the Fallen Angel would have fervently denied it if questioned).
Perhaps he would have been outwardly happy that someone viewed him as such— but in the end, there was still no guarantee that what he was and what the Tomb perceived him as would line up properly, or what Nazarick's inhabitants might do should his bluff be called.
And then, in a stupidly impulsive move, he went ahead and opened up to Albedo (if only slightly), all before running away to a whole other kingdom on a whim (because he felt trapped, or because of some other deep-seated issue?).
Such behaviour was unbecoming for a supposedly 'Supreme' being.
Not to mention quite strange.
To be so... carefree, after the period of near-maniacal vigilance, simply taking off as fast as he could, as if trying to escape something. Though such a thing could be attributed to general restlessness, Satoru felt that a pattern had begun to emerge, if only ever so slightly.
Here he was. In the middle of uncharted territory. It was hardly safe, and yet he felt at ease.
Gone was the scrutinizing eye of Nazarick, and to an extent, Momon was free to do as he pleased— the worries of living up to the idea of a perfect entity no longer looming over him.
To a certain extent, it was freedom.
Freedom gained from running away from the second home that ever valued him.
Selfish.
Reprehensible.
Short-sighted.
The crisp night air of the New World suddenly tasted a lot like bitter ash. And with this, the Supreme Being reached something akin to an epiphany.
It was pathetic, was it not? To value Nazarick's opinion higher than your own life. To distance yourself, just to get away from whatever lofty expectations they had of you.
Suzuki slowly turned his head, his slightly-obscured eyes meeting the singular piercingly green gaze of Shizu— the Pleiade that had joined him on his mission. She looked so perfectly doll-like, a descriptor that sounded like a compliment to anybody else, sure, though the ex-human couldn't help but feel a sour taste at the comparison.
Shizu was a whole lot more than a doll. Or a robot, for that matter.
'Even if you compared them all to ones and zeroes not a week prior to this.' A treacherous corner of his mind seemed to whisper to him. How strange it was— to be both beyond your creation and beneath it, both at the same time. Truly, balance was something the office worker severely lacked.
In that sense, Suzuki Satoru felt unworthy of Nazarick (of Albedo), even if he had a hand in their creation.
If the creations of an artist had come to life without warning, could the creator stake a claim to it all? Was the creator entitled to his creations, when they weren't ever intended to be anything more than fictitious?
What if they worshipped him like a God?
Deep down, Suzuki Satoru did not think he was entitled to this, even if Nazarick had been his pride, joy and home away from home. Rather, it was a wedge that existed between creator and creation. One that now felt a bit painful to acknowledge.
Getting to terms with what he had done to Albedo was deeply therapeutic, but still just the tip of the iceberg of inadequacy that he was ramming his head against on a now daily basis.
Because Suzuki Satoru was just a human. A regular salary man. Someone Nazarick would consider 'a lower lifeform' and 'utterly expendable' if they were to meet him without context. How was he supposed to measure up when everybody else around you were so... Beyond everything you are?
From that perspective, the Great Tomb of Nazarick was not Suzuki Satoru's home, as it had been in the game.
Now that it had been made real, it was Momonga's home.
Momonga, or even "Ainz Ooal Gown".
Leader of the 41 Supreme Beings.
Not Suzuki Satoru in an avatar body— A hypothetical actual being, with a Supreme mind to match. A creature that in every way lived up to the made-up title of 'Supreme Being' without having to resort to roleplay and method acting.
Had the human-in-disguise any less control over his features, his lips would most certainly curl into a frown. Though with Shizu by his side, and with his visor partially raised, he settled for a subtle clenching of his teeth.
It was almost funny, how it took one single day away from the endless positive affirmations of Nazarick for him to realise that he was so in over his head.
And yet that was exactly why the charades had to continue. Why Suzuki Satoru had to feel uncomfortable in his own skin— despite his avatar-body feeling far more familiar and right than his original human one.
Of course he wanted to get closer to Nazarick's denizens— to Shizu, to Albedo, to Cocytus, to Aura and Mare... Floor Guardians, Pleiades or whatever else. Even if the disguised human feared the possibility of him not being enough for any of them, the second he let them close.
...What you want and what you can have might not always overlap. —And Suzuki Satoru was used to that all too familiar disappointment.
'I can have whatever I want.'
A slight shuffling movement could be heard within the noise-cancelling field, and Ainz turned to face his petite travelling companion, who looked about ready to give an answer— it seemed that the enhanced processing speeds of a level 100 allowed him to squeeze entire internal monologues into his conversations. A realisation that might have tickled him a little, were it not for his now downcast mood.
"Apologies, Momon-san." The automaton replied, still keeping any and all warmth out of her tone— though the lack of emotion wasbrought about by her being stoic rather than cold. "I thought that being 'father' and 'daughter' was a good cover for us."
That hadn't been the sole reason. And both of them knew it, at least to some extent. ...Even if the Supreme Being, after his introspection, felt a little torn about how to feel about yet another role being added to his suite of responsibilities and expectations— instead offering an ever so slightly bitter smile. Which was visible only due to him having lifted his helmet's visor to eat hours prior.
It took less than a fraction of a second for Shizu to pick up on his discomfort. Her unobscured eye widened marginally. A subtle change in expression on any other person, but a whole lot more impactful on the otherwise apathetic-looking Pleiade.
"Sorry." She spoke, just the slightest bit too fast to seem 'neutral', in spite of her tone. It was as if she had plainly been able to see the Supreme Being's discomfort (and had misunderstood it spectacularly). "I didn't mean to offend you, my lord." Her going back to 'my lord' stung more than it should have.
If Ainz's ability to read her was on point, the automaton was doing the closest thing she knew to panicking. Of course, being the level-headed leader that Nazarick looked up to, Ainz did the only logical thing; panic in tandem. His visor-obscured eyes widened the barest margin, and his mouth hung open ever so slightly.
"W-wait a moment...!" The Supreme Being barely managed to spit out, the way he tripped over his own words seemingly going unnoticed by his automaton companion. Shizu froze ever so slightly at his words, slowly looking up towards her master.
"I... I don't mind it at all, Shizu." Ainz spoke slowly, as if cautiously tasting every word that moved past his lips— carefully prodding for a reaction.
"Truly, Momong— Momon-san?"
"Y— Yes. Truly." The dark warrior affirmed, giving Shizu as comforting a smile as he could offer. Which, in all fairness, was a bit more wobbly than Ainz would care to admit.
"I do believe that it can serve as a good cover, as to not invite any strange questions. And aside from the obvious merit, I would be..." He paused, trying to decide whether or not he was being too forward. "...Quite happy to play the role." His earnest thoughts slipped out before he was able to apply any filter beyond 'Excessively Formal' to it.
A pause followed, making the Fallen Angel wonder if he had been too pushy.
"Mmm. Me too, Momon-san." Shizu replied quietly after a while, genuinely managing to come off as relieved. "Then... Father?" The little combat-maid looked at him. A singular crosshair-adorned eye of saturated green meeting his own, taking on a strange orange shading in the gloomy light cast by a dying campfire. Some thought Shizu to be without expressions. Though Ainz couldn't bring himself to say that they were objectively wrong, he couldn't disagree more.
It was so plainly obvious that Shizu looked hopeful in spite of her outwardly blank face. ...And Momonga's smile grew more self-assured at that.
He may not be an actual paternal figure— not really. But it sounded nice nonetheless. A title that would be worthy of the burden of expectation if it made someone a little happier.
Not to mention how it was just one of those titles that Suzuki Satoru had wanted on some level (to be to someone like his mother was for him). Though he may not be able to live up to such an ideal, it still seemed to be a title that came with far more achievable standards than 'Leader of the 41 Supreme Beings'.
So... It wouldn't really hurt if he just... Humoured her a little longer, right? To take on a role that he'd never would end up in otherwise.
'It's just a fun little thing that she can call me as Momon. It would invite less... Strange assumptions than whatever else people may imagine with Cerabrate as the gold-standard.'
"Indeed." Ainz's utterances took on a languid pace, his august voice suddenly sounding a bit lower— contemplative, almost. "...'Father'."
A brief period of silence followed, with the little automaton turning her focus back to the fading fire pit. The Supreme Being himself sat hunched over, with hands folded awkwardly and elbows resting on his armoured knees, quietly wondering if he had misspoken as to push the aloof Pleiade away again.
His moment of self-doubt was quickly dashed by the rose-gold haired maid wordlessly scooting closer to him, as she had done for most of the night— albeit forgoing the subtlety this time. Ainz was taken aback at first, left pondering what his next move would be, while the Pleiade seemed to savour his mere presence.
With a shuffling movement, the Fallen Angel raised a gauntlet-adorned hand, wondering if it would be proper for him to ruffle her hair a little. Though, it seemed, he lacked now the conviction to do so without hesitating— his gauntleted hand instead awkwardly hovering above a head of rose-gold hair.
Pushing aside whatever remained of his doubts, the armour encasing the Supreme Being's hand quietly slipped off, seemingly unravelling into nothingness with little more than a soft blue showing of light and sparks.
Yet another beat followed before Ainz finally lowered his hand, gently stroking Shizu's head. Both of them seemed to heave a subtle sigh not heard by the other.
Though Shizu had of course noticed the Fallen Angel's initial hesitation and lack of conviction. The way he hadn't been completely determined to act.
...The Pleiade didn't consider that a negative at all, however.
Instead it seemed that the ruler of Nazarick himself— in all his perfect glory— also expressed himself a little differently, even if it was to a very limited extent. For the first time, Shizu felt a kinship with someone other than her sisters. A bond that ran deep. With the exalted leader of the 41 Supreme Beings himself, no less!
Would it not have been so much easier, had Ainz Ooal Gown reassured the automaton that her perceived faults were no faults at all? ...So too the insecure aspect of the Fallen Angel could have done with the combat maid affirming that her respect and love was unconditional.
The night fell silent once more, the fire having dimmed further.
Quiet as a mouse, Shizu huddled a little bit closer.
Despite there being a solid inch of cold, dusky steel separating them, She felt only warmth.
...And that was enough.
'Well~. That was kinda awkward. I mean— she's literally calling me dad, so... And I did give Enri head pats, now that I think about it! ...But Shizu is from Nazarick, so we have a working relationship. Some professionalism and... "Supremeness" is to be expected. Erm... Right?'
Suzuki Satoru was used to passivity and reactivity. More often than not, Albedo and Demiurge took the lead, and he worked around it. Even his exploits in Carne Village was something born of necessity, with the Supreme Being reacting to the reprehensible actions of the invading knights.
Albedo's advances aside, the fact that he had considered initiating such an intimate gesture with someone he has a working relationship with was odd, to say the least. Beyond simple handshakes and basic physical contact, Suzuki Satoru didn't have much experience with touching or physical intimacy, be it hugs or head pats. It was why Albedo so suddenly grabbing his hands had thrown him for a loop.
Simply put, Shizu and him were boss and employee in a sense. Though some closeness was to be expected, Suzuki simply wasn't sure about how far he'd be willing to go. Not when there wasn't some skeleton in the closet or repressed guilt he had to deal with, as he had done with a certain Guardian Overseer.
One could even go as far as to say that he feared it to some degree.
Suzuki Satoru, who startled at the idea of engaging in physical intimacy— of the platonic variety in this instance— without the other party making the first move. Especially when in a supposedly professional environment.
And yet something had changed during the short week he had been a Supreme Being.
Honestly, the fact that he could mow down an entire squadron of mages, living breathing humans, without so much as batting an eye by the third day should have tipped him off. Though it seemed that his confidence came and went, sometimes leaving the Supreme Being feeling more like an inconsistent pile of nerves.
Ainz's musings ended, and his normally breathtaking form nearly leapt out of the obsidian armour he was wearing when Shizu suddenly slumped against him. Instead, the angel turned (a little too quickly) towards the automaton. With a deep breath quickly drawn into his lungs, a fine amount of self-control prevented the Fallen Angel from pouncing the Pleiade to confirm that nothing had gone wrong.
In some odd way, it seemed as if the combat-maid had simply nodded off, comfortably leaning against her master (father figure)?
'O-oh, good. I was worried there for a second.'
...
A slight smile broke out on Ainz's face, though the Supreme Being couldn't for the life of him determine why. ...Admittedly, Shizu going into sleep-mode when leaning against him might have had something to do with it.
'Huh. Lots of things I don't know about Yggdrasil races, it seems. Or maybe it's just a character-quirk implemented by Garnet? Like how she is able to eat and drink...?
And... My armour isn't all that warm. She won't get a cold, will she?'
At first, the Fallen Angel sat still, not wanting to wake(?) the sleeping(?) automaton(?), though this did not last long. With a barely audible shuffle, he moved, for once not thinking too much about his actions— neither wracking his brain about the correct thing to do, nor worrying about whatever misstep could make him seem weak in the eyes of Nazarick.
In one swift motion, his dashing red cape was released from the clasp, instead finding a more comfortable resting place draped around the maid's little shoulders like a blanket.
...A soft 'mm' was all the response Ainz got, allowing him some comfort in the idea that he hadn't interrupted whatever resting-procedure Shizu was going through.
Such an act hadn't been necessary by any stretch of the imagination.
But it was his choice.
Made without hesitation or worry about upholding some hypothetical status quo.
It had not been an act spurred on by some strange emotional high, just like how it wasn't one motivated by duty or obligation. As utterly insignificant as this may have been from the perspective of someone with but an inkling of social competence, it still felt like victory, however small that victory may have been. Somehow, it was as as if some stuffy and uncomfortable part deep within his being had loosened its grip on him— if only a little.
...The Supreme One wondered if he would have been quicker to have that heart-to-heart with Albedo, without the several day period of radio silence and vacillation, had he felt like this earlier.
...
'...We've been out here a while. Maybe it's time for someone else to take a shift?' The Fallen Angel thought to himself, tired eyes seeking patterns in whatever remained of the dancing flame of the firepit.
It had been a long night, but Ainz couldn't find it in himself to be anything less than satisfied with it.
.
.
.
Thus far, every day had been what the Supreme Being would classify as a nice day— whether it was blue skies and sunshine all the way or overcast with a heavy blanket of grey clouds. Though, admittedly, since his standards would view a 'marginally less toxic day' as a good one, there probably didn't exist a meteorological phenomena Ainz would consider 'bad', lest it resulted in the end of the world or the subsequent destruction of an ecosystem.
Today was no exception— even if it fell under the category of 'dull and monochromatic', with that aforementioned blanket of clouds taking centre stage. Though, interestingly enough, in spite of the cloudy weather there was nary a drizzle or even the slightest gust.
Not that anybody intended to complain about something so trivial— with the oh-so-safe subject of the weather keeping the chatty group occupied for another hour on the hiking trail, discussing whatever mundane topic that came up.
The scenery remained unchanged for the most parts, with the winding path that they proceeded down sometimes disappearing entirely. It certainly did lend a feeling of being in some long-forgotten limb of a country that the wilds had begun to reclaim.
The only real reprieve was a few stacked stones serving as signs and the occasional abandoned structure that hinted at a populace that had once existed here.
Only when tree stumps grew to be a common sight, the dark warrior was certain that they had been going the right direction, heading for a supposed sawmill.
And finally, after what felt like one of the longest days of Momon's life, Cherry Stem broached the thicket of the forest, arriving at what appeared to be an artificial clearing. A place that had once been a swath of forest, with the trees having been felled to make way for a now decrepit sawmill/lumberjack's hut hybrid to fill the space.
Where the ground had been slightly elevated, it sat comfortably atop a small hill— surrounded on all side by tall, yellow grass that had replaced the vibrant greens of the forest.
A sad old structure, standing tall as a cenotaph representing the decay of a once great kingdom.
Old and withered, resting quietly in the middle of a forest. The Draconic Kingdom was dying, it seemed. The way the settlements found in its furthest reaches and frontiers shrivelled up and died seemed a testament to that fact.
The paths in which they came may once have been a road intended to aid in the transport of lumber, but had instead faded— becoming little more than stamped dirt, overgrown and barely visible.
And yet, someone had remained out here.
That alone could be seen as a monument to human adaptability... Or idiocy.
"...So," Yon drawled, stomping into the man-made clearing where waist high (in his case shoulder high) grass—yellowed and dried— covered every inch of the dead meadow, save for the tree stumps. "Lovely place." He snorted with a voice laden thick with sarcasm. "...'Tis a shame that nobody seems to be home."
"Oh dear heavens above, please tell me we didn't sign up to camp outside if he ain't here." Milla complained, following her dwarven companion, dead grass rustling as she moved towards the silent structure. "Could have at least bothered to clear up his front yard."
"Ah, zip it." The dwarven warrior retorted. "—The pay is good, and that is enough for us~."
Bard merely furrowed his brow, whereas Karatus held a significantly more pensive expression. Shizu, however, looked as unimpressed as ever, almost bounding after the other two as the remaining three stood at the edge of the clearing.
"...Guess we're in it for the long haul." The caster sighed, using his staff as a walking stick as he begrudgingly took off after the others. The Dark Warrior stood tall with his arms crossed. Though appearing as a stiffly stoic obsidian obelisk, he was anything but— instead wearing a frown as his discerning gaze swept over the area.
The lumberjack hut and sawmill hybrid was quite large, and might have been quite a sight in its prime. To have a large property to yourself, isolated away from the world, without taxes and the claustrophobic density of a city... Ainz could partly see the appeal. Though that may have been the wageslave living in a mega-complex talking.
His eyes drifted, following the forms of his companions moving down the faded path that trailed through the field of dead grass, as well as the four others practically frolicking through it. Or at least, that's how it appeared at first glance.
It soon became apparent that they were prepared, with hands resting on their arms, ready to draw on a moments notice. Even the formation that they held wasn't as haphazard as it seemed, with the warriors leading the way and covering for the two ranged combatants.
So too was Momon serving as a wall of steel between Karatus and any potential offenders.
'Guess they're not as relaxed as they seem.'
Eventually his inquisitive stare landed on a building slightly further away, just beyond an aged well. A barn, though Ainz could not say for sure due to his relative inexperience with the layouts of these types of locations.
Looking at all of this it wasn't hard to see how one could survive here with such a cloistered lifestyle.
The barn-like structure provided ample storage, and there seemed to be a well in the middle of the buildings that could serve as a supply of water, in the event that an enchanted pitcher ran dry. With salted and dried meat one could last a very long time out here— and that was when one didn't take into consideration magical tools to aid in that process.
Considering the liveliness of the surrounding woods, anybody with even a bit of knowledge about scavenging or hunting would be able to survive the warmer seasons without extra provisions, provided they were lucky enough not to run into anything unsavoury.
... Although...
'Lots of dead grass.' Momon noted, cautiously eyeing the dried undergrowth. As if to directly contrast the meticulous layout and orderly nature of the golden fields of wheat surrounding Rhakyuu-Iéll, the rugged tracts of wild grass were unsightly.
It also contradicted the nigh-impenetrable weald of green that surrounded the dry glade, seemingly out of spite. Where once stood trees— tall and lively— now lied mangled stumps, curiously rotted, as if uncaring of its dessicated surroundings.
It was a shame how brilliantly leafy green underbrush had made way for the unpleasant faded yellow that now covered the arid meadow.
Deforestation, harmful as it was, should not have such a large effect, though Ainz lacked the knowledge to say for sure. Instead he was left bitterly wondering if human interference had a hand in this, calmly telling himself that an industrial revolution and systematic destruction of this world's nature was unlikely.
Evidently a lot of his frustration seemed to bleed into his movements as the rhythmic sound of metallic clicking drew Karatus' attention. Though slightly befuddled himself, the ranger still caught onto Momon's heavier than usual mood. Something that was made obvious by how the dark warrior stood with crossed arms while impatiently tapping his armoured bicep with an index finger.
The wind carried scents. Most prominent of all the pungent floral bouquet that was so befitting of summer. But there was something sweet that Ainz was able to pick up on. It felt vaguely familiar, and if he had to guess, it'd be—
"So... Uh," the ranger began, clearly uncomfortable. The dark warrior's neck practically swivelled to look at the gold-ranked adventurer. "—This... This doesn't sit right by you either, right?"
"It doesn't." Momon agreed, turning back towards the meadow. The remainder of the group wasn't as lax as they had been prior to arrival, with Milla clenching the hilt of her sword. "...Though that seems to be the general consensus."
The two fell quiet for one second before Momon mumbled something under his breath and started crossing the field in a brisk pace, the archer following suit.
"Undead. Maybe." He said plainly, making the dark warrior look at him again. "Nobody's saying anything since that's the expected reason for... This." The adventurer waved his hand exaggeratedly.
"But it, uh, Shizuka and you might not be as familiar. But don't worry! Seems perfectly empty and calm now. —Besides, they aren't smart enough to organize an ambush!" At this point Karatus seemed to be assuage his own discomfort rather than Momon's— though the angel-in-disguise nodded along nonetheless.
"Just a bit too quiet around here," Karatus groused, kicking a rotted tree stump as he walked past. The adventurer certainly had a point. It was a bit too quiet, with how the wind had settled and how the clearing lacked perches for chirping birds.
'Either that or...'
"Quiet?" Momon wondered.
"Ah, er— things are a bit too dead for me to hear anything. And the mould doesn't seem too chatty, heh~."
"...I see."
"Oi! Open up, Ceyx Wildsoar! Friendlies~!" Milla roared while banging on the surprisingly hefty wooden door. "Your sister..." She extended an arm towards Bard, who handed off the request-poster with a sigh. "...Aelia...?" The redhead read loud enough to be heard through the door.
"—Your sister Aelia is worried about you!"
A beat of silence followed.
"Yeah, I've got nothin'," Milla admitted, turning around and leaning against the locked door. "This request is stupid as hell— why aren't we just breaking down the door already? If his visit is three months overdue, the poor bastard is probably dead in a ditch and picked clean by little wild ones."
"It's not very nice to break in." Shizu rationalized.
"Sweetie, it's in the job description." The redhead huffed, looking towards the rest of Cherry Stem that was clustered around the door for reassurance.
Yon's bearded face pulled into a tense frown. "Eh, we'd be proper hognuts if we knocked down a door when the man could be on some strange mushroom-picking trip." The dwarf took a few steps away from the door and plopped down in the grass. "He ain't sleepin' outside— so I reckon it'll be another long day."
The sole mage of the group merely sighed, pulling the quick-release strap on his bag and allowing it to drop to the ground will a dull thump. "...I suppose you believe that waiting for at least a short while would be a courteous thing to do, though I fail to see the point in doing it."
A few half-hearted agreements trickled out from the group, with none of them being particularly excited by the prospect of waiting for someone to return— least of all Milla, who already was itching to bash something with that big sword of hers.
So they did what they could, taking a seat on the dry ground. Yon was wondering whether or not he'd have to pitch the tents for yet another night outside, or if they'd be able to get by. Though the mage was the first to put down his bag, he instead wandered around the premises with Milla in tow— likely setting up a few [Tripwire] spells again.
"Hah~." Karatus sighed, rooting through his own packing before pulling a deck of cards from its depths. "Shoot. If we just broke in now and left we'd be back in Rhakyuu-Iéll by nightfall."
Just then Bard and Milla came around the other side of the building.
"...Rather large place, this. There's a mill area, an empty barn... And this main building from the looks of things." The caster's lips pursed as he stroked his scruffy chin. "But it doesn't look lived in. No animals and no stored food. ...And certainly no surprise that all the straw we found was rotten."
The red-headed warrior gave an annoyed click of the tongue. "So everything's up the creek without a rudder. Good to know. Can we just break in and call it quits?" Her eyes zeroed in on Momon, who was standing around, inspecting the immediate area. "C'mon, you're with me on this, right?"
The dark warrior locked eyes with the other melee combatant before looking towards Shizuka— apparently having some form of silent conversation. "It'd certainly be faster," he admitted. Though the Fallen Angel definitely was starting to get bored with the lack of action in this little venture, that alone was not enough to warrant drastic action.
However.
Ainz walked up to the door, the entirety of Cherry Stem now focused on him.
Momon simply lifted his helmet's visor ever so slightly but not moving to break down the door, much to the confusion of the others.
"Tsk, guess we're in for a long wait now." Milla groused, unable to keep all of the disappointment out of her voice.
"Might as well." Karatus mumbled before brightening up. "But hey— we've got cards!" He cheered, waving a battered old deck around.
Yon sneered dismissively. "Bah. No point. I ain't playing with you sticky-fingered lot. Milla keeps counting cards and you use herbs to cheat."
"That won't be necessary. I vote we just break down the door." Bard sighed, eliciting cheers from Milla and a few unenergetic disagreements from Yon and Karatus. At this rate, Shizuka and Momon would have to serve as tiebreakers.
The bickering went on, a little quieter than normal. It was plainly evident that tensions were still running high. There were too many glances over the shoulder— too many times hands found themselves on familiar weaponry for this to be considered 'casual'.
Momon paid it no heed.
'My body... It's senses are a whole lot better than when I was human. Eh. Guess it's because nothing has been corroded by the toxic everything like back on Earth.'
There was a reason the Angel had lifted his visor, as he inhaled deeply through his nose.
'Huh. This... Got a little bit more interesting.'
He had been able to pick up on so many things since he had arrived in this New World. Most of all through his enhanced sense of smell offering a whole new dimension to his experience of the world.
The fruity zest of the glass of juice he enjoyed every now and again.
The pleasant hints of umami given off even by the rather bland stew put together by Milla.
The subtle yet elegant fragrance of whatever perfume Albedo wore.
The way Shizu used some form of citrus-scented products to stave off the sterile air characteristic of constructs.
Even now Ainz felt his environment and the people populating it with intense clarity. How the adventurers smelt of sweat, with a unique character mixed in. Like Karatus' floral tones and Bard's use of some likely expensive body product. There was the way Milla's hands faintly gave off the stench of manure— and how Yon could be confused for a large chunk of charcoal when using one's nose.
Whenever the wind decided to pick up, it wasn't difficult to pick up earthier tones, pleasantly tinged with hay and blooming flowers— and less pleasantly by mould and the rotted old wood that made up the buildings.
But even with the unending medley of aromas assaulting his nose, Ainz picked up on something else...
...Hiding.
Masked, but not well enough.
A gauntleted hand was rested against the solid wooden door— the Supreme Being's stare now intense enough to shatter it into small pieces.
A scent, barely buried beneath all others emanating from behind the door only to be detectable when the wind died down again.
̶A̶ ̶h̶o̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶h̶i̶l̶l̶.̶
̶̶̶C̶o̶r̶r̶o̶d̶e̶d̶.̶
̶I̶s̶o̶l̶a̶t̶e̶d̶.̶
̶A̶ ̶c̶a̶r̶c̶a̶s̶s̶,̶ ̶g̶n̶a̶w̶e̶d̶ ̶d̶o̶w̶n̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶b̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶y̶e̶t̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶i̶n̶f̶e̶s̶t̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶.̶
̶S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶a̶n̶g̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶a̶i̶r̶.̶
̶T̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶c̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶r̶o̶t̶,̶
̶s̶o̶ ̶s̶i̶c̶k̶l̶y̶ ̶s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶.̶
̶W̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶d̶a̶r̶k̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶k̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶u̶r̶s̶t̶,̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶m̶o̶s̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶r̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶d̶u̶c̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶c̶e̶ ̶u̶n̶c̶o̶i̶l̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶m̶a̶c̶h̶.̶
̶
̶T̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶o̶l̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.̶
Chapter End
* I am entire basing this off of the stuff we did in school back when I was 8, in which we repeatedly dipped candlewicks in molten wax to make candlesticks.
A/N (Worlds longest Author's Note))
Told ya it would be a mess of a chapter. One step forward, two steps back.
I view Chapter 7 and this Chapter as diametrically opposed— contrasting, as they both give insight to Ainz's psychology, while simultaneously offering two different views. I see Chapter 7 as more catering towards the Fallen Angel side of things, with his self-reflection and innermost thoughts being instigated by a mood swing, showing off the more aggressive, confident and self-serving side of Ainz.
...Whereas this Chapter covers more of his reactiveness, feelings of inadequacy and fear of disappointing others— qualities that I'd imagine carried over from the stressed out wageslave of a dystopian Earth. Basically what's left when the emotional high and reckless-streak starts to fade. The part that freezes when stress-motivated obligations disappear and when he's handed the reigns for once.
The Fallen Angel race's emotional impact on Ainz as a character is a central theme, though I wanted some development for his core being beyond the occasional times the man's confidence shoots through the roof courtesy of some wild emotional instability.
Suzuki Satoru is described as a (internally) very awkward person who roleplays his way through Overlord. And that's fine. But I wanted him to slowly (very slowly) but surely start taking the initiative rather than having to deal with situations as they arise.
In other words, evolving him from a reactive character going along with his subordinates' whims to a proactive one capable of putting his foot down. Something that has begun to take shape with Chapter 5— when he and Enri steel their motivations.
Though, of course, we'll be starting with baby steps, as seen here. One could say that the catalyst for this change is his more emotional avatar, but I didn't want to have him rely on that alone for character moments.
I love canon Ainz, it's just... He's still uncomfortable, out of his depth and dancing along to the tune of his subordinates even in the latest volume.
Though I have no intentions of making Karma Weaver Ainz a glowing-brained genius that lives up to his subordinates' expectations and then some, don't expect him to be awkward, outclassed and fumbling around by the end of the fic.
(If it is a Supreme Being you want, it's a Supreme Being you'll eventually get.)
