GOD IS AN IDIOT
Chapter 8 – The Guide
Ten days had passed since they left Braesla behind. Braesla, the home of Barn, Saim, Ilu, Veda. Braesla, which once harboured almost ten thousand souls. Braesla, which now waited to be forgotten.
Nine days had passed since he first heard a bird chirp after the terrible silence, since he first saw life rustle in the grass after the damned calm, since he first smelled a flower after the tasteless stale of the air.
Eight days had passed since Nigun spoke last a word with Ainz when they had found a deserted post station and horses. Since then… silence. Ainz would simply stop without a word when night broke, and wake him with a little shove once dawn was upon them. Words were not needed.
The clatter of the hooves was their only companion, while lonely snowflakes touched and faded on their faces. The air had steadily become colder as they traveled onward to the high plateau Caput, where Humanitas waited, and dark grey clouds had been obscuring the sun for over a week. Each day began bleak, never turned bright and became dark again sooner and sooner.
Maybe the sun felt with Nigun. Maybe it also wondered.
'What is the point?'
He had submitted to Ainz to safeguard his Dana, to prevent her from meeting the horror now riding in the guise of Gazef Stronoff beside him. He hoped – if he co-operated, if he served well – it would spare not only him and his love, but also the people of Slane, see them as worthy enough, to not claim their lives. He wished it would see a reason in staying its hand.
But it must have concluded, just like him:
'What's the point?'
There was no reason to show mercy, or even a little bit of consideration. With its absolute power, it waltzed over everything in its way without a care, just like he knowingly trampled countless bugs each day without even wondering. So could he blame it for its callousness?
And what would be the point in blaming it? Ainz never cared, neither with affection nor with hate, for anything he did or anyone else. Sure, it was perfectly capable of joking, teasing – or, sometimes, even laughing – but he always heard the same notion hide in those lighter moments: '…, but I know better', 'if you had any idea...', 'it won't matter...'…
Nigun felt like a prisoner of disillusionment, bound in irons of fear and false hope. His compliance would save no one. He would only serve as a witness for the damnation awaiting them all.
But what form would this cursed fate take?
Nigun had seen powerful magi and priest cast spells which hinted at the glory of the gods. He had used the awesome might of his final lieges himself in form of the sealing crystal, and the angel Dominion Authority remained a glorious memory.
The presence of a mighty magic caster affected all souls deep down. Having that presence shift its attention to you, doing so while lighting up with divine and arcane symbols, provoked always one reaction in any sane being: fear. The uncertainty of one's well-being when confronted with alien rape of one's own reality. A sensible instinct bred into most races' survivors, after learning one of the harsh truths of the world.
Magic trumped brawn. History had proven – with exceedingly rare exception – no scholar of the blade could ever compete with their arcane counterpart with rising skill and comparable experience. The less restrictive the rules of reality became, the less relevant the fighters' physical skills became. Hence, it was small wonder the greatest living magic casters, the likes of Fluder Paradyn or the adventurer Evil Eye, were counted to possess the same fighting strength as 10.000 regular soldiers. The likes of Gazef Stronoff or the empire's arena champion equalled only a thousand, maybe two. He had always liked that example when explaining the superiority of magical might to physical brawn.
He did… till ten days ago, when with one spell, more than 10.000 humans died at once. Without a foreboding presence of doom, or a flashy light show, or even a word of warning at all.
It happened.
And they were dead. Whoever or whatever they were, they were dead at once. Without wasting. Without suffering. Without fear. He feared, suffered, and felt his soul waste away in their stead. While they didn't get to wonder, he could do nothing but ask why.
Ainz provided. "Seemed like a good idea."
That was the moment he stopped fearing it, and discovered the cold comfort of hate. Not the rational kind for the enemies of Slane, or a grating triviality and dislike which followed an intellectual causality, but an extreme instinctual rejection. The threat of Ainz' might became one more terrible parameter, instead of the most dominant variable in his considerations. A relieving epiphany, even when it hurt-
"Ey."
-to realize true power rested with the insane-
"Ey."
-and trusting in the gods promise of salvation through merit turned out-
"Ey."
A finger snap to his temple, just strong enough to hurt, broke his concentration, and he snapped back with a lot of spittle., "What!"
"Sorry for disrupting your pseudo-intellectual self-pity, but what is it?"
'Gazef', finally out of his armour and in some plain brown trousers, boots, a shirt, and a rugged leather jacket over it, held up an anorexic baby carcass, still dripping with maggots and skin.
"An elf cub. The pointed ears should have been obvious enough."
"Thought so," Ainz confirmed and threw it away. "And those other corpses are elves, too, right? That's why they didn't bother you. And here I thought you learned your lesson from Braesla."
"What was that lesson supposed to be?" Nigun acidly asked as he focused on the reins and the road. He saw another corpse just 30 meters ahead.
"How should I know? It's supposed to be your lesson."
'Fucking asshole.' Nigun's jaws clenched, but he refrained from speaking his assessment.
"Asshole."
'What? Did I accidentality speak out loud?'
"That's what you are thinking right now." Ainz smirked when Nigun looked back, befuddled, and his squint prompted it to speak on. "What does that frigging ass have to rub it in? Does he get a kick from it? And what is he talking about, now?"
'Is it...'
"No, I am not scanning your mind, Captain. I can just read you very easily."
"Liar," Nigun retorted bluntly.
"Will you ever know?" Ainz countered just as drily without a hint of mirth.
"I now know at least you are no god."
"Bravo." Ainz clapped his hand slowly twice, and gave up on the third time. "What gave me off?"
'Should I tell? It asked and never cared before for insult. Oh hell….' – "You act like a reckless fool with no plan. You might have the power, but you lack the foresight of a true god. No way did you plan on taking Gazef's place from the beginning."
"I admit that was more on the fly."
"…or had any deeper intention behind murdering my brothers and sisters!"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Liar!"
"As I said…"
"And what is the point of dragging me through this hell anyway? You have no need of me. If you wanted, you could easily take all the knowledge from me I would never provide, and be done with the hassle of Nigun Grid Luin! So what is the point of keeping me alive? What is the point of all of this?" Nigun spat back, before focusing again on the road and the previously-discovered corpse they passed. "Just shut up when you have nothing worthwhile to say. I tire of your antics."
'So tired. Just leave me alone. Please.'
"I'll shut up once you stop looking for purpose."
Nigun stubbornly kept looking at the cobble road and surrounding fields. They were bare of plant life and dominated by long mounds of freshly-turned earth, running parallel to the road. A single more-or-less burned-down stump was stuck in each one and the large black flocks, which had been dominating the sky for the last week, readily used them as resting post to gather strength and spot prey.
Thin smoke columns rose over the horizon ahead, barely visible against the pale mountains behind. The snow-capped giants were their last obstacle before Humanitas, but they had been tamed. Nigun once again thanked the foresight of the gods, for while they could easily pass the continental rising, thanks to their teleportation magic, it used to be a tremendous – most time of the year even impossible – endeavour for mortals to reach or leave Slane's capital.
In their wisdom, the Six Great Gods had seen past their own time and envisioned the Coronari, though they did not get to see their work finished. All around Humanitas, fine roads and bridges led to great glaciers of the mountain range. From there bore great twin tunnels, some of them almost fifty kilometers long, to the edge of the mountains. The male one bleed the melting water from the glaciers to the plains below, while female ones had rails and wagons for any purpose: person transport, wares, resources, circuses...
Each wagon or train could be linked to a relay of swimming sails in the male tunnel by steel cords over a pivot bearing. As the sails were pulled down, the trains would be pulled up. Once a sail reached the end of its relay segment, it would fold down and be eventually pulled up again by a descending train. The relays could also be linked to rails running parallel to the great roads, allowing humans to cross the deadly mountains and reach Humanitas in less than a day comfortably and safely.
In case enemies attempted to use the tunnels, selected cords could be cut, hopefully stranding the enemy or, should that not suffice, be flooded.
But that was a day's march away, and he had not felt hungry yet due to his delicious breakfast, sponsored by Ainz. They had passed another six rag-clothed corpses when it spoke, "Once in a distant, even desert, now long-forgotten, lived an old man."
'What is it talking about, now?'
Nigun had no interest in conversing with Ainz, but it was hard to ignore it, as it rode just next to him as his only company. He had no choice but continue listening to the undead.
"He felt no hunger, didn't tire, did not sweat nor felt the cold. He had everything he needed."
'An old man, all alone in the desert? How could he have survived? Probably a magic caster. Why am I listening? It is Ainz lying. Wait, is he telling me...?'
"He didn't even feel boredom, for he wandered the desert till he knew every single grain of the great waste."
'He couldn't really have known every grain, so it has to be a metaphor or allegory, but what for, if Ainz is the old man? What is numberless, beyond counting, asides from sand? Does it refer to humanity or even all life?'
Ainz imitated a walking man with two swinging fingers, before pointing around with his free arm. "The old man had seen all there is and bend down. He stuck his hand into the even sand and started carving a line, till he had enough and started a new line, somewhere else, till he also tired of it and began another one, and another and another..."
'So once it had taken its stock of mankind, it carved a path through it– a great devastation! Could it… C-Could it have been responsible for the emergence of the Greed Kings and Demon Gods? Scouts to test the waters ahead? Centuries are nothing to a creature as powerful and old as it has to be. So if it has finally stepped down itself from the beyond to our world, does this also mean the moment of the final reaping has come? Is time up?'
Nigun couldn't help himself, wanting to hear more, but Ainz stayed silent again as the horses trod on. They passed many more dead elves as they headed for the mountains, each and every one marked by bruises, picked flesh, whip marks and hunger - a feast for the predators above. The fat crows, ravens, and buzzards fed at their leisure, hacking at will only the choicest parts like eyes, lips, and the tender organs, before heading for the next carcass, but the captain did not care for how the animal food chain played out.
Instead, he watched each human group they met or passed nervously, always looking for faces he might recognize, while still thinking, despite himself, about Ainz's story. The sun had passed the high noon mark, but it hadn't spoken again apart from short greetings, often just a nod to the other travellers.
Had Ainz really told him a tiny glimpse of his past? If so, where did the old man come from, or had he always been the steward of the desert? Was Ainz perhaps without beginning and – he hoped not – without end? He found no hint in its words, so he concentrated on the lines in the sand.
Sand could represent so many things: something uncountable, something lifeless, something hiding another below, a greater truth made up of many small ones, the base material for the purity of glass… or simply sand. It was maddening to speculate with so few information, but Ainz had told him the story unbidden, so there had to be reason, a meaning behind it!
The same went on in Nigun's head for the other details. Was it on purpose there was no explicit mentioning of a line pattern, or just an oversight on Ainz part? Should he put attention to the protagonist being an old man? It could have said 'an old one', 'a man', 'someone', or even 'he', but it chose 'old man'. Why?
His head hurt from the unbidden thoughts, and while Ainz watched the processions of emaciated elves guarded by stern-looking soldiers keenly, their horrible smell and whining only darkened his mood.
He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods when they reached the outskirts of Ferabeeka, one of the 14 gates to Humanitas, and one of three largest slaving centres of Slane. The city was protected by a ten-meters-tall wall, but they saw only the watchtowers reaching another 12 meters above it, and the equally-high golden coloured columns, so common in Slane, between them.
Ferabeeka housed over 8000 humans, yet was hidden by the work- and death camps before it, only referred to as Number Two by civilians and military personal alike. It could hold up to 20.000 demi-humans for processing. Those captured elves who survived the relentless march from the Elven Kingdom to here would be divided by they abilities and health, and sent off all over the Theocracy to serve diverse roles: mining ore, breaking and pulling stones, clearing forests or serving as hunting bait – but most were sentenced to field work; a merciful judgment.
They would rise early at morning, be divided by lottery into groups, and march off to the fields under the scrutiny of hardened soldiers and a priest. There, they would fill holes and dig afterwards. The coming day, a new group of elves would fill the last day's holes and dig graves of their own. The priest would sanctify they remains at dawn to prevent the rising of undead, and the process would repeat the next day, until the war with Elven King had ended or no more elves were left. Of course, those options were not mutually exclusive.
The last few hundred meters to the city gate was led by and past two large enclosures, just a few meters to each side of the road. Behind wooden fences, studded with rusty nails like hedgehogs near the top, the knife-ears vegetated in their own waste. The stink was eye-watering – a miasma of sweat, blood and emptied bowels. Nigun had always hated this part of the journey to Tob.
Not because hundreds cried in anguish with their starved loved ones in their arms, or because thousands looked after him with burning hate in their sunken eyes. Not because the scared creatures rocked back and forth in their own filth when thinking of the coming day.
He hated the coarse bellowing of the overseers as they mistreated the inferior things. He hated the greedy foreign slave traders who congregated here to supply the perversions of the lesser nations powerful. He especially hated the pointless cruelty.
Nigun felt no sympathy for the enemies of Slane, but in his mind, Slane was degrading itself with the camps. They were not even economical. Escorting the elves all the way from the Elven Kingdom to here, operating the camps, and securing the cities and resources of Slane against the slaves cost far more than simply slaughtering all prisoner. He had spent months in vain trying to convince his superiors, who clearly understood his arguments, even applauded him for his work… and still did not change the practice.
They called the suffering of the elves a righteous punishment for the sins of their king, but he saw no righteousness in it. All he saw, every time he passed, were bullies falsely inflating their own egos with the degradation of others. Most Slane would have been scandalized and shamed should they ever see a slave camp for themselves, he was sure of it. Perhaps that was the reason only older soldiers, those deliberately prolonging their tour on their own accord, were used to guard these camps, so the disgrace would remain a secret to most citizens. He felt tempted to suggest Ainz to burn down the whole camp, including the captives, but he refrained. Asking an enemy of the gods for favours was blasphemy.
At last, they reached the city gates and, after trading in their steeds, left the stink and wailing behind thick walls, but not the moral degeneration. At first glance, Ferabeeka looked similar to Bresla: high, flat-topped tenements and mansions, the ubiquitous and – often by the inhabitants – lovingly customized, columns between them, and many young adults in one kind of uniform or another.
The few not wearing the blue of the army or a priest's garments were slavers from outside of Slane, who haggled noisily for the gagged knife-ears in irons on the wooden podiums of the market place. Despite the official prohibition of slavery in the neighboring nations of Baharuth and Re-Estize, there were still many men and women of power left who desired the elven captives for their perverse desires or as indentured servants, and he suspected some elves would be also sold as delicacies, to humans and demi-humans alike, by the less scrupulous slave traders. Nigun himself never liked it. Elf tasted like very old pork: though and stringy, without enough fat in his opinion.
"20 gold shillings for the blonde with the green eyes!"
He heard Ainz suddenly join in the shouting, and turned back. 'Gazef' stood in a small group of bidders who looked at him with irritation and amusement alike, while the bald slaver on the podium before them almost choked. 20 gold shillings was far too much for a first bid, even for a fine specimen like this leaf-tattooed male on display. The best slaves seldom earned the trader more than 10 gold shillings, and that's only after most vicious bidding matches. The other bidders must have thought the same and refrained from placing new offers.
The trader caught himself again and hastily spoke, "I hear 20 gold shillings; do I hear a higher bid?"
The others chuckled.
"20 gold the first! 20 gold the second! 20 gold the third! Sold for 20 gold shillings to the handsome gentlemen in the vest!"
While it handed the obviously happy slaver a small pouch, his assistants exchanged the elf's iron chain for a sturdy rope and led the creature down. Even after weeks of marching, starving, and enduring the whims of the guards, the whip-striped body held a memory of muscles and pride, which most other elves had long since lost. It stared daggers at Ainz as the undead accepted the rope. Defiantly, it tried staying in place.
Ainz yanked the rope, as it caught up with Nigun, toppling the elf and dragging it along without the slightest inconvenience. The slave screamed and cursed unintelligibly under its gag, while Nigun asked with a frown, "You don't plan to take that to Humanitas?"
"Don't worry. I won't set him loose in the capital, I promise."
'Oh, dear gods.'
The people started to stare as the elf kept resisting. The slave rooted its feet into every risen cobble it could reach, wound its body, tried to yank back – anything. Ainz was not moved one bit and did not seem to mind, but they were getting an uncomfortable amount of attention.
Nigun had enough when they were just a few corners away from the train station, and reached down towards it with ager-blared nostrils. Gripping the thick, long hair, he rammed its head into the street: once, twice.
"Just leave him alive, okay?"
Nigun did not respond as he pulled the muttering elf to its feet, and hissed, "Be silent."
The captain pinched shut its bloody nose till its panicking eyes started to roll back. A hard backhand hit and denied its release, and it immediately started to curse again, before Nigun pinched its nose anew and stated, "Be silent, now or forever."
'I don't really care for one way or another.'
The struggle stopped, and the slave followed at last with a hanging head.
'Why do I have to clear up your mess?'
Nigun wanted to spit as he took his place at Ainz side with a dark glare and turned the last corners.
The low sun was already hidden behind the roofs when they finally arrived at the train station. It was a functional block of a building, a station with four lanes behind it, yet still nice to look at. The thin columns at its front had been painted by children with motives only an innocent could have chosen. Crudely-drawn bees, flowers, clouds and humans formed an appealing contrast to the flat grey stone of the building proper. Even Ainz raised a brow when seeing it, but Nigun had no idea why it suddenly laughed when seeing the Coronari on the other side the first time.
In the centuries since its finish, the tunnel entrance had been lovingly carved into a veritable piece of art. A pair of great angel wings spread from both sides to almost 8 times the width of the smooth-walled hole in the mountainside, and a kite-shaped emblem with the ornate names of the involved engineers above it watched the coming and leaving trains.
Nigun paid the white clad conductors for a single cabin in the last wagon. It was far from luxurious, but the padded seats were comfortable enough for the coming nine hour trip to Humanitas, and magical lightning would keep the tunnel's darkness at bay.
The train began to rumble into motion, when he returned from the wagon's mini-library with a worn copy of "Navigating the Labyrinth – The Collected Wisdom of Alah Alaf". The still-bound elf cowered on the floor in a corner, while Ainz rested his head on a fist with two fingers to its temples, staring out the window into the darkness of the tunnel. A tasty-smelling wrapping waited for him on his seat next to the door, opposite to Ainz.
As he chewed on the always-delicious bread, sausages, and cheese, he flipped the book open. He always used to read the laymen's religious texts on the way back from a mission. Often, his comrades would join him and they would interpret and discuss together the manifests of the gods. Nigun would educate them on the finer details most laymen overlooked, the building context between the seemingly differing messages of the Six, and sometimes he would also gain a new insight – spiritual or personal – from those lessons.
Now, he read to calm himself. After over twenty years of service, he could almost recite the words blindly, yet he still hoped he would perhaps discover a new insight, or at least a hint, what his lieges expected of him, on how he should act.
'Be honest with yourself and your fellow humans.' Ainz would have surely grinned.
'Be kind and receive kindness.' Had Ainz been treated badly in Braesla?
'Be aware of your place and role.' Ainz acted so unfitting of a god Nigun couldn't suppress a snort, and hastily sent a prayer for forgiveness to Alah Alaf for questioning his wisdom.
He felt an air current, and looked up into blue-and-green heterochromatic eyes. A little blonde elf girl in an extremely expensive-looking short skirt dress stood nervously before him with a gnarled staff in her hands and a backpack. Behind her, he saw a hole in the wall close, and thought he glimpsed another, very pale girl wink from the other side.
Judging by the apparent worth of the gear it is wearing, it must be a lackey of Ainz. What does he need the slave for then, when he already has elves working for him? Or are they simply too young for his needs?
Although unexpected, the moment paled in comparison to shock of Braesla's annihilation. Nigun closed his book and asked, "Yes?"
"So-Sorry for disturbing you, Lord Mo- Lord Gown, but I-"
"Over here, Mare."
It paled visibly and quickly turned and bowed for Ainz, who did not look angered at all. The elf on the ground, on the other hand, got very excited and tried to rise, before a swift kick from Nigun placated it.
Mare waited politely, before starting again, "I am terribly sorry, Lord Gown, but I did not know the shape you had taken, and the humans all look so simi-"
"Mare," Ainz interrupted its stammering, "Don't sweat it. Just get to the point, my boy."
'Boy? It is a 'he'?'
"Right!"
Mare handed Ainz a small black book of its own from its backpack which could have easily fitted into Nigun's palm. It looked pristine compared to the worn thing on his lap, and Ainz skimmed through it, while the boy explained, "Demiurge completed the New World's written language translation into Japanese and English. Aura has begun an encyclopedia of the local fauna, and we have created a provisional..."
Suddenly, a head-sized blue ball of lines of light appeared over the open booklet. A cloud of red points circled around it, and yellow glowing blots were smeared irregularly all over it.
'Is that a frigging...'
"…world map. I marked some selected spots you might find interesting, Lord Gown. I- I hop-hop-hope you don't mind."
Ainz snapped the book shut, and the image disappeared. "On the contrary, Mare, I appreciate it. You all have done well. I'm sure I will enjoy learning what you have found."
"Th-Thank you, my Lord!"
The little one smiled, glad for the comment and kneeled down to the slave, who stared wide-eyed at its racial sibling.
"Take him to the Tomb and see what you and Aura can get out of him."
"Of course, Lord Gown." Mare answered, and stopped inspecting the sweating elf's eyes and skin like it was a horse. The boy placed two fingers to his temples, like Nigun had seen Ainz do several times before. Just a few seconds later, the two knife-ears dropped in a hole which vanished as quickly as it appeared.
The man and undead were alone once more. Nigun stared at Ainz, again.
"You want to ask something?"
"Will you put it through the same madness you forced upon me? Finding his friends and family could prove hard."
"Yeah, I guess your guys already took care of that. No, I have other interests in the elf."
'Then, I feel sorry for it. Huh, this could be a first time.'
"But there is something else on the tip of your tongue. Right, Captain?"
It was right. He needed confirmation, a reason to go on, or at least a false hope... "Have you come here to kill us all? Will you finish what the Greed Kings and Demon Gods began?"
Its face was unreadable, the studying stare of 'Gazef's' brown eyes hard to bear, but he held it stubbornly, if only out of spite. At last, its mouth corner's twitched, and it asked in turn, "Where did you get that idea from? Because I pacified Braesla? I am sure the Theocracy has done the same many times before, and the world is still standing."
'Not with one spell. Not on a whim.'
"But the story you told!"
"What about it?"
"Was it not a metaphor for you; how you brought disaster to world? Was that not the point of it?"
Ainz smiled again, but it was a kind he had not seen before on it. Not the charming one it used to deceive, and not the sneer he had learned to hate. "I am not here to kill you all."
"But Braesla-"
"Was an opportunity – nothing more, nothing less."
An opportunity for what? What could you have gained by massacring all those people? Braesla was insignificant apart from the lives there!
"And about my story..."
"Yes?"
"It's just a random story I made up at the moment. It has no hidden truth whatsoever."
'Are you kidding me?' – "I have been trying to find meaning in it all day, and now you are telling me there was no point to it!"
Nigun was about to explode, but the look in Ainz's eyes stopped him. They looked sad, even tired. "Now you are getting it, Captain."
"Get what?"
He really did not.
"That you see higher meaning, where there is none; purpose, which was never intended; sense, when there wasn't one to begin with. I offered you some random words, and in your dour need for a reason, you interpreted more into them than there ever was."
"But..."
"Compared to you and the people of Slane, I could very well be a god, and still... I have no meaning to offer you, no truth to tell, no real purpose. Could this have happened before, Nigun?"