GOD IS AN IDIOT

Chapter 6 – The Idiot

"What do you think happens now?" The deep voice asked.

"I do not know. I answered all your questions, so I will die, no?" Nigun defiantly said. His words sounded calm and at peace, but the nightmare on the other side of the simple wooden table fanned all kinds of feelings in his chest. Unease, fascination, naked fear –certainly not calm and peace.

How could it have done otherwise? It was a powerful lich, an undead, a nemesis to all who lived, and instead of doing all in its terrible might to kill him, it just chatted. It had pulled up a seat in the rich tent, where he had found himself and just chatted with him.

"Kill you?"

"Of course. I won't tell any military secrets, and I am trained to resist torture. You won't get any information out of me I am not willing to share."

A brazen lie. Nigun knew from personal experience sooner or later, everyone broke. Given enough time, even heroes succumbed to torture, and he had no illusions he would fare better in the end. Maybe the undead thought the same when it placed a finger on its chin. Or maybe its face just itched. Nigun could barely read the body language of his opposite number, let alone the flesh-stripped skull. The red glowing pinprick in its eye sockets was his only tenuous connection to the thoughts of the monster.

Four years of learning human and demi-human psychology proved useless against the perfect poker of a grinning skull. Nigun was not ready, but expected anything, when the finger dropped from the chin again.

"Captain Luin, why would I do such a thing?"

'Why indeed. You are an undead monster – maybe more civilized and cunning than most, but you stay a monster.'

"You hate the living." Nigun saw no point in elaborating the obvious.

The skeleton did. "Since when?"

"Since you rose from your grave."

He did not like the game it was playing with him. Was this perhaps the beginning of his torture? A little cat-and-mouse tease to give him an idea of his host's true nature? Would he be already stewing in his own sweat once it started for real?

It sighed, despite not having taken a breath in the entire exchange so far, and then said, "My good captain, let me set some things straight for you. First, I don't hate the living. I may not be technically alive, but I still employ several living ones. Most of my lieutenants are alive, in fact.

"Second. I have no wish to harm you, Captain Luin."

Nigun considered a snort enough of an answer.

His host did not seem to mind the offence and spoke on, "I gave you two healing potions, did I not?"

"A dead man cannot talk."

"Like such a nuisance would stop me." The skeleton waved off his comment like it was no big deal, but to the captain, it was. If the monster spoke true, and resurrection magic was nothing special to it, then what other powers did it command? If. Maybe it was just a lie to impress him and soften him up further. It had to have limits to its power, if it bothered speaking with him at all. On the other hand, it effortlessly destroyed "Dominion Authority", one of the Theocracy's strongest weapons – allegedly in self-defence – so those limits could be so far beyond his own scope, they might as well not exist.

Nigun would indulge it for now, and said, "Maybe, maybe not."

"Let's not find out," it said, and...

"No." Nigun agreed to the almost warm words. He had to be careful. The undead was surprisingly charming. It acted not like a time-lost beast from of a dusty catacomb; it talked like the next guy on Slane's streets. It was a trick – it had to be – but for now, he would play along and amuse it, so he asked, "Two potions? I remember only one."

"You got a little bit… let's say excited after we fed you the first bottle, and one of my servants' hand slipped."

"I cannot remember that, so I will have to trust you on that one."

"I would have been surprised if you did," it said, and Nigun thought he heard mirth in the words.

Maybe now was a good time to fish for information himself. He said, "I told you my name and rank."

"And not much else."

"Right… but I did, nonetheless, so I think it would be only civil if you did the same."

A daring move on his part, but risks were unavoidable to a man in his position: Alone and in dark of his location, his host, and fate. His heart raced as he dared the red pinpricks to answer, while the cold sweat ran down his temple. Its hand moved, and for split second, he thought he gambled too high.

But half the way the claws stopped in offering and it said. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown."

Nigun looked only warily at the offered bones, till Ainz let them drop again.

He drummed a few seconds on the table's wood, before he said, "I see you don't trust me, Captain. I can certainly understand your reservations, but please, try to see it from my point of view. I have to think of my and my servants' safety. Surely you, as a commander of men, understand the need to keep you in the dark, at least for the moment."

"Then you will also understand I cannot disclose information."

"Of course!" Ainz agreed. "And that it is a good thing. You see, you and I..." It pointed at Nigun and itself while speaking so. "We are finally forming a connection. We are both in the same uncomfortable situation. Our duties and consciousness require us to hold back, what the other wants to hear. A stand-off."

"Hardly, when I do not even have a blade."

"We both know that is not true, Captain. Even without a sword, you are far from harmless."

"Then you should let me go, if you acknowledge the danger I pose," Nigun said and knew, of course, Ainz would not follow up on his suggestion. He doubted himself he posed any sort threat to the undead, but it still felt good to fire something back.

To his surprise, Ainz nodded and said, "Oh, I fully intend to do so."

"Preferably not as a shambling corpse."

"What kind of monster do you take me for?" Ainz asked jovially. Nigun could not tell if the resonating indignation was real or not, but he did not care for comity. Apparantly, Ainz did when he added, "Captain, I promise you, I won't harm you."

"You promise?"

"My word is my bond," Ainz pledged with a hand to his chest.

Nigun felt torn. The one promising his safety was an undead, after all – the antithesis of life. There was no reason it should feel any sympathy for his species, but still it acted cordially so far. In fact, it had not threatened him once. A small hope grew in him, despite knowing better, and he said, "So I can leave?"

"Soon, Captain Luin, but please give me at least the chance to be a good host. Would you like to have some tea?" Ainz offered, and Nigun's eyes almost plopped when it promptly fished up a steaming porcelain teapot from under the table.

"No, thank you. I do not feel thirsty," Nigun rejected stiffly, but his host was not dissuaded.

Ainz let the teapot vanish again under the table, and instead produced a carafe with sun yellow and fruity-smelling liquid. "Some orange juice, then?"

Nigun had no idea what 'oranges' were and did not want to find out, despite the good smell. When he shook his head, Ainz removed the carafe quickly and placed a condensation-covered glass of beer on the table.

"And how about a fresh pilsner?"

"No." Nigun declined, and Ainz simply went on placing and removing delicious-smelling drinks and foods.

"A glass of wine?"

"No."

"Sparkling water?"

"No."

"A tender steak?"

"No, I am not hungry."

"A bowel of stew?"

"No, like I-"

"A broiler?"

"I said-"

"Or some vegetable soup?"

"I am not-"

"Have some cake."

"-hungry!"

"Not even a lemon drop?" Ainz offered yellow candy in a multicoloured metal can. He sounded almost sad.

"No, thank you. I am not in the mood for any drink and food. Have I made myself clear?" Nigun slowly lost his last shreds of calm under Ainz pestering. Why did it not understand he would not accept any of its offerings. Was it some kind of idiot? And how did it hide all those foods in its pockets without spilling anything in the first place?

"You are making it very hard for me to be a good host, you know?" Ainz sighed and scratched again his temple, a very human gesture in Nigun's mind. The thing did not match any of the captain's expectations. Although he had only ever fought mindless members of its kind, he had also read in the Theocracy's archives about the few intelligent undead mankind had encountered.

Each and every one had been driven by the need to eradicate the living given the slightest chance, not offer them frigging candy. Perhaps the gods had not abandoned him yet, and he had indeed stumbled upon the sole intelligent walking dead too dumb to follow its instincts.

"You are my jailor, not my host."

"Can't I be both?" Ainz asked with a triumphant snip of his fingers. "Now I get it. You don't need sustenance, you crave companionship. I can introduce to some lovely ladies, if you'd like."

"I have no interest in your women!" Nigun snapped back. Never before had he met such an irritating monster. Even the blue pygmies the Scripture rounded up last year did not strain his patience as much as Ainz did.

"My bad. I'm sorry. I should have considered you are a man of faith. But fret not, I'm sure I can find you a cute boy-"

"NO!" Nigun yelled and knocked over the table. "No, gods damn it! I DON'T want a boy, you sick moron; stop pestering me! I am a happily-married man!"

"You are? But I thought you are a priest." Ainz pointed out, and Nigun would have liked nothing more than to bash in its grinning skull for such a stupid question. What did being a priest have to do with his marital status? How stupid and ignorant could that empty head be?

"Yes, I am!"

"I find that hard to believe. You are not lying to me, are you, Captain?" Ainz crossed his fingers and legs with no discernible anger.

"Her name is Dana!"

"Sure..."

"Everyone in third district knows her! Don't you dare to question my love!"

"Sorry, she must be very special to you."

"She is-"

A terrible realization hit Nigun. The ignorant… the idiot was him. In his arrogance towards Ainz, he carelessly let his feelings run free, and made a terrible mistake. He was certain Ainz would have grinned, even if it had not been a skeleton.

He heard his heart pound and felt dizzy, when he looked at the clean spot where before the table stood. Where had all the food he rejected gone? If it had been a conjuration of Ainz, why did he never hear him activate a spell? Conjuration magic was common enough, but it could only make simple and pure substances, like salt, water or sugar – not an entire prepared meal. Nigun had suspected his host was exceptionally powerful, but he must had grossly underestimated him.

With leaden steps, he reset the knocked over furniture and sat down.

"You look pale, Captain. Do you feel alright? Perhaps it is really for the best if you leave. I can find my way to your place to continue our conversation later." Ainz's words echoed distantly.

Nigun's mouth felt dry, as his consciousness looked left and right: to his oath to the state and his oath to his love. "I... I will be fine, Lord Gown. Just a sore throat."

Ainz shoved a fresh glass of beer over the table, which Nigun clutched on with both hands like it was the last drop of water in the world. It tasted wonderful, fresher and better-balanced than any beer he ever sipped from in his life.

He set the empty glass down and wiped the residual foam from his lip, all the while Ainz waited patiently. Nigun was damned, with no correct choice left. All he could do now was act in the best interest of those he loved. "You had questions, my Lord?"

"We all have." He heard Ainz speak.

Nigun no longer sat in a tent, but in a large room covered in white marble. Black columns supported the dome ceiling over the wide round table he found before him. A foreign symbol dominated its center and 41 luxurious chairs – his included – encircled it.

'What happened? How did the room change all of the sudden? And who arethose two?'

Ainz, on the other side of the table, fifteen meters across, was no longer alone. To its left sat a handsome elf with swept-back hair in a precious-looking orange suit. He regarded Nigun behind his mirrored glasses with a pleasant smirk, which moistened Nigun's skin with cold sweat. Nigun met many horrors during his service to Slane, but his instincts told him the elf eclipsed them all.

For a moment, he hoped the divine beauty with the black wings to Ainz right could be an angel coming to save him. He felt his trousers tighten while he mentally traced the perfect curves of her white dress. Nigun could almost feel the big breasts under the spiderweb necklace. Had this nightmare turned into a wet dream?

The cold stare of her cat-like golden eyes drained all the attraction from him at once, and he finally noticed the ram-like horns breaking through her thick black hair. She was no heavenly harbinger, just another monster of Ainz's menagerie… maybe even more dangerous than the elf.

"Who are you people?"

'And where have I ended up?'

Nigun wanted to know. They had casually dispatched one of the Theocracy's most powerful weapons, they commanded supernatural powers he never heard of before, and he suspected – despite Ainz's claims – had killed the Sunlight Scripture in one swoop.

Could they be gods? Had Surshana, the god of death, returned from the underworld, or was he already dead and facing his final judgement? If so, why had it killed its loyal subjects and kept company of a knife-ear? The Scripture had always served faithfully, had it not?

"Be silent, pest. You will only speak when asked to do so," the woman said. Her tone was cold and contemptuous, yet he still wanted to hear more of her sweet voice.

"O-"

Nigun wanted to say 'of course', but thought better of it and only nodded. He was in no position to argue with his captors, and Ainz seemed to think the same, as it let her reprimand him without complain, before it asked in turn, "What do you think?"

Was that sarcasm; a rhetorical question? Ainz's blank face offered him no hints, so he answered truthfully.

"Gods, Lord Gown."

Nigun could not hear what poison the damn elf whispered in response to Ainz, or imagine what made the beauty's eyes soften. Had his assumption amused them, or was it cruel anticipation of his sentence? His lot was to wait and nervously drum his fingers on his knees while they discussed his answer.

Both newcomers seemed to try persuade Ainz of their own opinion, but the skeleton's red pinpricks remained locked on him, till it silenced them with a raised hand and said, "You may call us so, if only because your sanity would be the first prize for gleaming the details of our nature…"

It sounded pleased with his guess as the elf looked, but Nigun couldn't fathom why it made her frown. How could his answer have offended her? There was no higher praise than to be called a god, was there?

The elf drew from his jacket a notebook and pen. and continued speaking in his master's stead. "What gods do you revere, human?"

His words were melodious, soft and dripping with unspoken malice, but Nigun swallowed his dislike, even tried to sound polite. There had to be a reason why Ainz trusted the creature, and he would not offend it by showing his aversion.

"Every righteous man or woman prays to the Six Great Gods.

"Alah Alaf, the God of Life,

"Fuji Salfer, the God of Fire,

"Kamohoalii, the God of Water,

"Yalla Himi, the God of Wind,

"Plutonios, the God of Earth, and finally

"Surshana, the God of Death."

Had his answer pleased them? All he saw was the elf scribbling down far more words than he had used. Most likely he also noted his body language and expressions, maybe even the tone of his voice. He would have done so in the elf's stead.

The Great Gods taught mankind much of its current knowledge, including secrets it would have taken hundreds of generations to discover on its own, if at all. Psychology was one of their most precious gifts. The ability to read human and intelligent monster alike without the use of magic had saved countless soldiers of the Theocracy, although few recruits grasped the lore's real value when taught the first time.

Today, his empathy had deserted him.

"Have you ever seen your gods?" Ainz asked.

"No."

"Then how do you know they are real?"

Was this another potential test? Why would it doubt the history it could find in every decent chronology of the Theocracy or other nation? Anyway, he would recount it if it kept his host happy. "Because they saved mankind from destruction and founded the Slane Theocracy."

Ainz did not comment and signalled him with a hand wave to speak on, so Nigun would continue retelling history till they had tired of it.

"About 600 years ago, mankind was on the brink of annihilation. Monsters and demi-humans threatened to wipe the last remnants of man off the world, while the callous Dragon Lords sat by and did nothing. Then, the Six Great Gods descended from the divine realm and stood up for us. With their unparalleled power, they held back the nightmares feasting on us and taught us the means to fight back on our own. The Tier Magic was perhaps their greatest gift, but they showed us so much more. Architecture, forging, agriculture, the written word... In the span of a few generations, they established a mighty culture, where before existed little more than loose tribes who lived in huts and used only stones, wood, and bones for tool making."

The elf dutifully noted everything, no doubt churning with envy behind his arrogant smirk at the favor the gods had shown mankind instead of his own race. Nigun did not recognize the elf, but his instincts kept telling him the demi-human was extremely dangerous and capable of horrible acts Nigun could not even imagine. There was a good chance having to note down man's blessings was Lord Gown's poetic punishment for the knife-ear's crimes.

"Today, Slane counts among the mightiest known nations. Who, but the gods, could have raised mankind from the bottom of the food chain to close to the top?"

For a second, he thought he heard the woman and elf chortle, but looking at them, they still appeared as before. Nigun focused his attention back at Ainz, who waited with crossed fingers.

"They-"

"Where are they now?" Ainz interrupted him.

"Pardon me, my Lord?"

"Where... are... they... now?"

'It... It doesn't know? Why doesn't it know, if it is really a god?'

"They passed away. In their love for mankind, they had taken human avatars to walk this world… and like all men and women, theirs was only a limited time. Only Surshana took the immortal form of an undead, but he fell 500 years ago when he fought for us one last time against the terrible Greed Kings."

"So you are once more defenceless," the woman observed.

Nigun shook his head without looking away from Ainz. "No. The other gods left us their unbelievably powerful artefacts, and they blessed us with the descendants, the God-Kin."

"God-Kin?" The elf asked, and Nigun was almost glad he asked for details for another proof how mankind had been favoured by the divine, instead of the scribe's race. "God-Kins inherited some of the god's blood. It is thicker in some than in others, but each one can wield powers beyond even the mightiest human heroes."

'Although I am not sure even one of them could have dispatched a Dominion Authority so casually. No need to tell them that, though.'

"They have the strength to triumph against monsters even adamantite adventurers, the very pinnacle of mankind's potential, could never best. As far as I know, only the Dragon Lords could possibly equal them."

"How many God-Kin are there? Do other Nations have access to their services?" He asked again for his master. Nigun would have liked nothing more than to rile "Wouldn't you like to know?", but he thought better than to follow his petty need and answered, "As far as I know - it is highly classified - not many, and they are all loyal to Slane only."

"Then we should extend our care to the other human nations, don't you agree? Meanwhile, I will make my own impression of the Theocracy," Ainz declared. Nigun could not discern if it was talking to him or its advisors.

Neither thought pleased him, and despite the woman's reminder to not speak unasked, he blurted out, "Then you should take me with you as your guide!"

"Agreed."

Nigun was suddenly sitting under a cloudy sky and staring at the back of a heavy-set black horse, which almost whipped him with its tail. The round table and the marble room, wherever they had been in the first place, were gone. Men and women toiled in the distance on the green-golden grain fields to his right, past the poplar trees lining the plastered road.

'What? How did it...? Just what kind of power is this?'

A four-wheeled wagon creaked under him, as he shifted and stared incredulously to his left. An expensive-looking black-lacquered armor held the horse's reins. A rich red mantle hung from its shoulder, and Nigun wondered for a moment who was hiding behind the all-enclosing helmet, before he saw a red pinprick light up between the view slot.

An iron grip pressed his shoulder, and him with it, down into the seat, before he could jump off the wagon.

"Sit, Captain," Ainz's voice spoke from under the helm, and Nigun had to accept, his nightmare was not over. "You won't bail on me, won't you?"

"No, Lord Gown," Nigun helplessly said and stopped the futile struggle against the undead's unnatural strength. Resistance was pointless, so long as he was under its scrutiny. He would bid his time.

Maybe he could make a move and contact the Theocracy's leadership once they reached Humanitas, for where else could they have been heading? It had to be planning to enter Slane's capital incognito, although he did not understand yet why it did not choose a less attention-drawing form.

If Ainz suspected him of treason, it gave off no sign of it… or, maybe – and the idea frightened him – it did not care.

"Call me Momon while I am wearing the armour."

"Momon. Momon who? Please pardon me for asking, but you cut an intimidating shape. People are bound to ask."

Ainz nodded. "That's right. So what do you suggest, my good captain? Who could have saved your life, after the troll lair?"

"Anyone will raise suspicion, Lord Gown. If you are interesting enough, the Theocracy will trace your steps. You should not count on simply posing as a foreigner."

"Pah!" Ainz complained, before handing him the reins and leaning back. "So you figured out the problem in my plan."

"Perhaps you should earn some good will by acting openly. The cardinals would certainly be willing to introduce you to our fair nation, Lord Gown." Nigun suggested in a vain hope it would reveal itself early.

"And omit many of its most interesting sights?" Ainz mocked with an accusing finger.

"No, that's not an option. But what do you think about Plan B?"

The undead lifted the helmet.

Despite all the monster had done to him, the murder of his comrades, the manipulations, the plain disregard for his existence as a person with another idea for fate...

He could not help but grimly smirk in recognition of the bold devil hiding behind Gazef Stronoff's friendly grin.