Disclaimer: I dont own Overlord that all goes to Maruyama-sama

AN: Thank You for reading

A peaceful city, looking from above one would see efficiency in how the people conducted themselves, as if their movement was planned from a logistics team, but that wasn't the case. Theirs was born out of the need to be efficient, the meritocratic lifestyle of Baharuth's citizens. Inside the towering palace of Arwinter was a man taking a bath.

He closed his eyes and listened to the running water, having just washed his body and hair he sits still in the steaming water, allowing the warmth to embrace him. He owed the warmth of the water to a magical rune of fire he had recieved from the dwarven kingdom, it was a failed military innovation but a successful water heating service.

Unfortunately he had also opened the cage of which he kept his thoughts in, a bad habit he had the joy of every time he entered the bath. He sometimes would wish he didn't have to deal with such internal strife, but without it, he wouldn't be who he was, the Bloody Emperor.

Jircniv wondered what could possibly come next with the figure of Ainz Ooal Gown filtering within the shadows of his mind. He both hoped for and against the possibility of someone else being in his position, misery loves company after all.. He didnt't know if he could successfully internalize these emotions without adding to his thinning hairline, maybe he'll start getting wrinkles too.

He began to feel the water cool down as the magical rune's timer must've ran out. An eeire deja vu came over him, a sensation that would make one think they're being watched, Jircniv swallowed hard as he looked around his bathroom. His amethyst gaze turned hard as he cast his eyes to each corner, crevice, and shadow, anything that might have hid what he felt was watching him. Just as he was getting more frantic, the feeling stopped as suddenly as it started.

he stood up from the now lukewarm water before drying off with a nearby towel and donning his nighttime robe. It was a plain white, emblazoned with the sheild of Baharuth over where ones heart would be. He took a minute to close his eyes and breath in, honing onto the feeling of being watched, but there was nothing.

" I couldn't have imagined that... Right?" Jircniv asked not himself, but the empty air around him, and the answer that always succeeded such a question met his ears as he stopped talking. Silence.

'Figures.' He sighed to himself, while adjusting his hair, and finally fastening the robe around himself as made his way to his chambers.

Jircniv, however, was almost isolated within the reality of his own mind, must've walked faster than he expected because he walked face-first into the doors of his bedroom. With actual reality stopping him and his thoughts in their tracks, he laughed at such an allegory,

Out of nowehere comes an immovable object, intent on stopping him in his tracks, if he had only been less absorbed in his thoughts maybe he couldve stopped before he ran into the force known as Nazarick.

Now simply a vassal inside his own empire, waiting for the terms of the contract to arrive. He will have to figure this out another time..

Jircniv, the bloody Emperor, was one that was groomed to rule, he built himself upon testing fate through convoluted schemes and imperial society; enacting the laws that further empowered him with the blood of the destestable nobles that stood against him.

This helplessness was new to Jircniv, he could see a dark path that would lead to an unknown future but he didn't see any other choice. He already resigned himself to fate but letting reality exert this pressure on him wasn't exactly harmless to his psyche.

He needed to do something.

Penmanship was the pinnical of a scribes duties, whether revising old, forgotten historical anecdotes into more accurate epochs, or translating dead glyphs into words the living still speak. Oftentimes the cities used symbols so literacy was lacking among the common folk but it was a neccessity to ascend the hierarchy inside a city such as Arwinter.

"Maybe I should start renovation for a non-military academy?" The thought fluttered away as soon as it appeared, he was busy after all.

Jircniv's hand glid sloothly across the paper of which he was writing, he wrote the characters of his language with flowing calligraphy, each stroke of his quill infused with his complicated emotional state. He stopped to strech his back. After the urge to do 'something' he went to his desk with two parchments and began writing, cataloguing. Yes, he could have sent for his scribes but he doesn't want his own thoughts to be known to everyone, he was a ruler, not a shame fueled masochist.

He stopped for a moment to appreciate the sophistication of his scribes, they had worked tirelessly to invent a quill that allowed for longer writing periods. Their solution; albeit its construction seems to be made by a five year old, was a vial of ink attached to the end of the quill, where the barbs of the feather would normally be. Inside the hollow capillary was a needle that when pressure was applied would act as a vein; opening its ventricle and allowing the ink to flow through the quill and onto the paper.

" Although it's final design could be worked on, its function is perfect. It's far more convenient than to have a capricious quill that either spits ink out or barely writes." Jircniv said as he gently fanned the parchment with his hand to allow the ink to dry.

He read over his writing, squinting at some the things he wrote down, unsure of what to make of his own thoughts. When said ink was dry enough, Jircniv folded the paper marked with his thoughts and inserted it into the drawer of his desk that he used as his 'diary', which was just a bundle of folded pieces of paper, as writing in anything with a spine is tedious at best. Jircniv was glad to dump his slew of feelings somewhere, but it didnt mean they just disappeared. At least an unknown benefit was it seemed to stir his thoughts enough to realize what he should do.

Jircnic could only pray that he wasn't overstepping his bounds as he reached over and pulled the other parchment to him, one of flawless quality by human standards, far more fine than the one he just wrote on. He was to write a letter, or rather more accurately a request, it began with:

" Thee Benevolent Overlord, Ainz Ooal Gown, Master of Nazarick, "


A hopeless quagoa stood near a mountain of lifeless bodies, their now cold blood flows slowly from the crevices of the intermangled figures, it creeps over limbs long detached as if apologizing for having left. The smell was nonexistent, not because the shattered corpses didnt smell, but the lonely quagoa just couldnt smell, in fact, he could barely even think.

Hands severed, legs torn, organs blended; death, all at once. The visions of his best soldiers and clan lords being slaughtered by the tireless red armor, the Quagoan Genocide, he thought that this had to some curse by the evil gods beyond. Why else would they send a messenger to commit such an atrocity? On top of that was forced into committing the last culling upon his own people, sending life that had just come into being, back into nothingness. Their screams echoed inside the quagoa's mind, he started to feel tears swell in his eyes again, so he took his blue cloak to wipe his eyes.

To say the golden furred quagoa, Pe Riyuro, was in despair would be an understatement, he was beyond depressed and the only thing stopping him from being suicidal was the thought that he would be turned into an undead and be cursed to suffer eternally. He tried to think of what will come of his people but all Pe Riyuro remembers is the being called Ainz Ooal Gown, the imposing manifestation of Death, condemning his people to an eternity of servitude, forever being in invisible chains. Pe Riyuro swallowed hard at the memory, he was to lead three quarters of his people to caves away from the dwarves, and the latter forth will be taken to 'E-Rantel'. He could only hope that a swift end befell them.

While trying to compartmentalize his shattered soul, he heard dragons fly away and assumed that it was about the time that he should act on the orders of his new master. The crown that he didn't feel worthy off, instead of wearing it he held it in his claws, he tried to draw upon the dignity that helped inspire the once warring clans to unite but couldn't. He looked around what remains of his clan. He needed to say something... something to at least get his people moving, they stood or sat as still as statues. Pe Riyuro cleared his throat,

"Please my clan, all hope isnt lost, it wont be easy but we are here right? Let's live for the poor souls who gave their life for us, let's live on for them, we have been given a place, away from the dwarves, we just have to make it ours. We can... rebuild." Pe Riyuro said unconvincingly.

While cursing himself for even attempting to do what he just did after the spectacle of the massacre, the crowd was more receptive than he could've thought. Like him, they just needed a little hope and a guide to come to terms with reality.

"We will go north, There is a supposed line of free mountains until the coast, we move now." He said to his clan, he doesn't know how long it will take, but maybe they can rebuild from this, someday.

It was a long trek, the cave systems in the northern tip of the mountains are isolated from the systems that make up the Dwarf Kingdom, had Pe Riyuro known this he wouldnt have looked through the tunnels he already knew to exist. So the group of 7,500 quagoa had to travel above-ground which takes them more effort to traverse, and in turn caused them to need more sustenance, and the cave lizards Pe Riyuro fancied weren't called cave lizards because they were found in grass, so needless to say they had trouble getting food together whenever they stopped their journey to rest for the night.

Pe Riyuro lead his clan to a mighty mountain, its cracks like wrinkles of time carved into it. At the base of the mountain was a welcoming cave reflecting off the face of a creek that seems to wrap around the base of the mountain.

It had been five days and two nights of travel through the turbulent hills and mountainous forests laden with the occasional hill troll for Pe Riyuro to take care of to reach their destination. The food they gathered along the way was mostly be funneled to the children and then up the latter, but needless to say, everyone was fatigued. The first thing that crossed Pe Riyuro's tired mind was why this area was chosen for his clan, he couldn't think of anything so he shook off the thought for now. He and his clan fanned out into their new home.


Ainz Ooal Gown was not where he wanted to be. This alone would shock anyone who knew the mighty Ainz Ooal Gown but it would instead be yesterdays news to anyone who knew the human Suzuki Satoru, and said human spirit still echoed within.

In front of the Overlord was... Paperwork, piles and piles of paperwork ranging from how the logistics of E -Rantel feed into Nazarick to minor incidents such as petty crime, he took note the peculiar increase in scroll material and attributed it to a new technique of Demiurge's. As an absolute ruler, unless discretion was given, one had to act within the confines of his order. There was no room to trickle-down systems, as Ainz's word is law.

As heavy of a weigh that his duty is, it was the least of his concerns at the moment, as within the periphery of his vision is Albedo, simply smiling and watching him, waiting to be of service.

At least that how she would have seemed to any normal person, to Ainz, however, the smile seemed to be formed out of her knowing of his inability to do paperwork, and that was terrifying to him.

Ainz coughs into his fist to clear the uncomfortable atmosphere that only he notices as well as to prompt Albedo.

"Albedo, I'm sure we have enough undead to send Baharuth its leased units, delegate its delivery to Shalltear. We need to improve our land based trade systems." Ainz thought back on how well Shalltear handled the air transport. His mind also quickly fluttered to his friend Jircniv, he wondered how he was doing.

When he looked at her, Ainz thought he could see a slight "glitch" in Albedo's perfect smile when he said "delegate" and "Shalltear" in order. Nevertheless her face was back to normal fast enough to leave him second guessing himself, while she said,

"I agree Ainz-Sama, but in that case, I would suggest the need to improve road infrastructure to better suit the undead as was done inside the city, however, Souleaters will make the current roads the humans made outside E-Rantel more expensive than plain dirt in the way of repairs. "

"Umu, as expected of you Albedo. I'm sure the Dwarves will make quick work of the expansion of the road network." Ainz said knowingly, but in fact, he just knew dwarves were generally better at making things than humans, so he strung that sentence together in hopes of being right.

Before he was able to see if he was right however, a knock came from the door and he nodded at Cixous, the current maid in the rotation that homunculus maids created, to receive the gracious visitor saving him from Albedo.

The being that entered was the butler cut from steel, Sebas Tian, holding what seemed to be a scroll of decent quality emblazoned with the emblem of Baharuth. He knelt before the desk which Ainz was stationed

'That's strange, when did Sebas become the mail handler?' Ainz thought distantly before snapping back to reality. he cleared his nonexistent throat and said,

"Welcome Sebas, you may rise, how is Tuare?"

This seemed to not only catch Sebas off guard but caused him to become slightly flustered as he subtly flinched as he rose, Ainz apologized internally to the butler of steal but he had already said it, it would just be awkward to backtrack.

"Uh. Yes my Lord, she is well. Actually, I was walking with Tuare around E-Rantel when I stopped by the administrative building adjacent to the Adventurers Guild and noticed this in the inbox." Sebas said directly while presenting the scroll to Ainz

Ainz was surprised that Tuare could so easily step back into the city that so violently crumpled her up and threw her away.

' Was I this arbitrary as a human?' He reflected on his prior life, but all that was seen was poisoned air and the complete lack of everything he has in this world. He considered that the decision to spend all his money on a game such as YYGDRASIL was arbitrary in itself so maybe he was similar to her before.

Ainz mentally waved the thoughts away as he reached out to receive the scroll from Sebas, unfurling it and starting to read-

'OH NO! This is all written in the empires script! ' Ainz thought, he could barely stop himself from shouting. He needed to think of something to not undermine his own authority by looking uneducated.

His eyes scanned the calligraphy, looking for any multilingual markings like question marks. If he could read it he would've surely complimented it but right now its just serving him unneeded anxiety.

He looked up from the paper around at his guardians, they have been already looking at him, patiently awaiting their supreme beings command, this did nothing to ease the pressure Ainz was feeling. He looked back at the paper and saw what looked to be an "S" shaped question mark next to a number, maybe he was offering tribute?

He was running out of ideas, but he knew just what to do.

"Albedo, I'm in favor of approving this, what do you think?" Ainz said while handing the paper to Albedo.

As soon as Albedo was handed the letter, she realized it was a request, a loan to be more specific, to build an "Intellectualized academy". Under her beautiful mask she fumed at the fact that a mere human would ask her Ainz-Sama to pay for something.