Marcus slept for far longer than he intended to, he knew that, because the sun was rising when he opened his eyes. His new companions were not in the room with him, he looked around. Their beds were neatly made. 'Orphanage upbringing.' He thought to himself while he got up, stretched, and turned to make his own.
He pulled the blanket up and started to tuck everything into place, then glanced over his shoulder to look at how they'd done it. He put his hands on his hips and stared down. His was a wrinkled mess, theirs were so tight he could have bounced a platinum coin against the surface.
He yanked the blanket back with one hand, then started again, he pulled the blanket down, tucked it beneath, and then tried to make a neat little corner fold at the back right side, and for a moment he smiled down at it. "There." He said, and as if to mock him, the fold popped back out, his neat little diagonal crease was gone. He pulled the blanket off and tried it again.
"How did the maids do it…?" He mused as he tried to recall, and then immediately realized why he couldn't. "Oh… right, you never stayed to watch. You flung off your blankets and rushed off to whatever, and left that task for them." He pursed his dark lips together and scratched the horn on the right side of his head. "Did my grandmothers ever do this?" He wondered out loud and tried again.
After the fourth such attempt, he went to the beds of his companion and began to look at their pull more closely, the way they folded back down near the head and tucked beneath the cheap stuffed sack that passed for a mattress. Marcus crouched down at the corner and eyed the fold, only looking over his shoulder when he heard Ranger speak.
"Ew, pervert, why are you sniffing my blanket?" She asked with her hands on her hips.
Marcus shot to his feet and turned around. He waved his hands frantically, "No! No I wasn't. I was just…" He rubbed the back of his head and looked past her at his failed effort.
Her eyes followed his to the mess that was his own bed. She smirked, "Ohhh, rich boy doesn't know how to make a bed! Better at bouncing in it with a randy maid than making it up afterwards are you?" She chuckled at the faint ashen hue of a blush that came to his face.
"Yeah…" He admitted sheepishly and looked back at her perfect one.
"Oh so you admit to lascivious lewdity with the help?" She grinned broadly and he blushed even more deeply. Her dark tan ears twitched.
"Wait, no!" He replied and waved his hands frantically again.
"Oh so you're a virgin?" She kept her smirk on her while she ribbed him.
"Wait, I didn't… ugh…" He slapped his palm over his face, "Look can you please just help me?"
"With your bed or your virginity?" She cocked her head slightly and he pointed sharply to his unmade bed.
She looked at the bed where he pointed, then slowly back to him. "My question stands." She said dryly.
"Help doing it properly…" He began, then suddenly snapped loudly, "Making the bed I mean!" He stamped his foot lightly and let out an exasperated sigh.
She laughed richly and put her hand on his shoulder, "C'mon rich boy, let me help you out. You take that side, I'll take this one, and pull it tight…"
Three minutes later it was done. "Well, that was easy." He said with satisfaction, and the jesting, mocking expression was gone from Ranger's face.
"You're right, it was, because we did it together. You could try for an hour by yourself and not get it." She took out a copper and cast it to the center of the bed, it bounced twice before settling into place. She then took it up and put it away. "But with help, it's easy. This is how we were taught in the orphanage, it encourages teamwork, it's how we started off learning to work together, trust each other. The few elves who spent decades in that system, the few like me, who had a long way to go before we were ready to enter a society, became employees as much as residents." She huffed a little, "I actually taught Mage, Bard, and Fighter how to do this. Thief actually taught me. By working together, something hard becomes easy, and something impossible, becomes reality. This is where our lessons began." She perked up and slapped him on the back, "Now come on rich boy, we've got to see what you're made of, everyone else is waiting, they sent me to come get you."
'He's carved out of metal, I swear it.' She thought as she rubbed the hand she'd slapped his back with. She could feel the flesh beneath his armor, and it was far from the softness she'd half expected she'd find.
"Yeah sure, good lesson and all too, but could you… maybe just call me Marcus? Or Jabara, if you prefer last names." He replied after picking up his weapons, and followed her out of the room and down the steps.
"Nah, we'll see if it's worth bothering to remember, first. Then? Then we'll see." Ranger replied and led him down the steps, out a side door, and to a space at the back of the building.
The rest of The Adventurers were waiting on him, true to her statement, and Bard waved him over, still holding a short steel sword in his hand. "Rich boy woke up did he? Bout time! Alright, Fighter, you're up!"
Bard stepped away, and Fighter stepped to the fore. Clad head to toe in well made iron armor and carrying a steel sword as well as a kite shield, he was a hair taller than Marcus, and broader built to boot. He slapped his sword against the face of his shield. "Come and get it rich boy, let's see what you've got!" He declared boldly as they made space for him.
"Alright." Marcus replied and going to a barrel, he replaced his real arrows with the ball headed practice ones, and laying down his sword, he took up a heavy wooden version close to the same design before taking up his position.
'OK so I don't want to humiliate him, but it won't serve anyone if they don't get an accurate gauge of what I can do.' Marcus thought as he went straight for the bow.
[Lesser hardening][Ability Boost] Fighter activated his martial arts, much to Marcus's relief.
The arrows shot out and hit Fighter's shield 'So he must have gotten at least his first knight level skills if he can use his shield as well as that.' Marcus reasoned and charged in, stowing his bow and drawing his sword.
Fighter took the arrows to the shield, 'My arm… it's numb, I can't feel my shield arm…' He thought frantically and charged full tilt at the charging half breed.
Marcus's eyes centered on his prey, the eyes of terror, the gift of his grandmother, ripped into Fighter like an arrow fired at wet paper. He could already feel the young man's heart wavering.
Fighter swung his sword overhead, Marcus avoided the blow and closed against the shield, he hooked his hand around the edge, grabbed, and pulled. [Undead Strength] He whispered so softly that Fighter wouldn't hear it over his warcry.
Marcus pulled, spun, and slammed his sword into the back of Fighter's helmeted head, staggering the large human forward.
Fighter spun around, catching his balance, and came on again. His shield was up and he shouted in fury as he charged. Marcus went for the bow again, and fired an arrow straight into Fighter's kneecap.
He staggered at the blow, and Marcus rushed in, sending a kick to the other unprotected leg, then drew back with a counterclockwise spin, hooking his foot behind the bend of the knee and pulled Fighter up, toppling him onto his back.
The wind flew out of Fighter's lungs when he landed but Marcus was already in motion, he grabbed the left ankle, and twisted. A cry of pain came out of Fighter's lips, and he tapped out. "I yield."
Marcus stepped closer to Fighter's head and extended his dark hand, the human took it, and his eyes widened a bit as he was easily brought up to his feet.
"OK, you're strong." Fighter begrudgingly admitted as he planted his feet firmly on the soft ground.
'He tore Fighter apart like a rag doll… and it was pretty obvious he could have done a lot worse.' Thief thought to herself while Ranger went up and shook his hand.
"Good job, rookie." She said with a cocky grin on her face, "Sure showed our meat shield a thing or two."
"I s'pose you did." Fighter added reluctantly and reached back to rub his backside.
Marcus shrugged, "I have better equipment, and I've been taught this from the time I was old enough to walk. You have good instincts, Fighter. And a strong will, my father and mother both agreed on one thing, that both will take you a good long way."
"Hey, Adventurers!" A creaky, grouchy old voice shouted to them from a few yards away, "I got a job for you, get your asses in here or I'm doubling the price of breakfast for you and quintupling it for the rich brat!"
Their heads swivelled together toward the short old goblin woman. "Ready for work?" Fighter asked of Marcus as the young half demon-elf put away the practice equipment and reclaimed his sword and arrows.
"Now I am. Let's go." He said, and set off at a light jog toward where the old woman waited.
Ainz sat atop his throne and listened to the one kneeling at the base of the steps leading up to the throne of kings. "...So we've purged twenty three mountain nests of beastmen this year, and though there are still more out there, we now consider the road east to be largely secure. We can accept smaller numbers of travelers and end the large caravan numbers that have stunted trade for the last few years." The Demon-Elf woman was clearly proud of what she was saying, her voice echoed against the walls and her red eyes shone brightly in the pulsing light of Nazarick's glory.
"You have worked hard. Well done. But you forgot the pleasantries." Ainz said and gestured to the wall, a small, pretty blonde human woman wheeled out a cart with a small bottle and an empty glass. "Please, rise, and tell me how your child is doing."
The demon-elf beamed even more happily, but blinked a few times. "He is his father's son." She said with amusement, "Hell bent on proving himself on his own terms, he left home to go to the colonies. I barely managed to talk the stubborn brat into taking his grandmother's equipment, and wouldn't have managed that much if his great grandmother hadn't promised to sic shadow demons after him if he acted like an idiot."
She managed to titter as she stood up and Tuare poured the cup and handed it to her demurely. "To your eternal reign, and stubborn children." The demon-elf said happily as she raised the glass.
"A good toast." Ainz said pleasantly. "The colonies though, he chose a very difficult place to try himself. Since the Red War and the Great Submission, it's been chaotic getting new places settled, exciting times and opportunities for many… but even for my faithful, just living can be a challenge."
"I know, sire. Even Pas'en doesn't have a full complement of undead judges yet, and our mages capable of mind control or other mental domination have to reserve their mana for the most serious crimes." She bowed her head, "I'm not criticizing, I understand why. Our area already has some justice system established, so it is more important to get it to those areas closer to home that have none."
"Astutely observed." Ainz remarked, "Gottfried did not choose a fool for a mate."
She turned a small smile up to him, "I try, Majesty. I try. But may I ask, is it true that the colonies don't have 'anyone' using the justice system of great kingdoms?" A mother's anxiety in her tenor and the slight shaking of the wine in her glass that gave away her well hidden tremble of fear was answer enough as to why she asked.
"It is. As the colonies are little more than trading outposts at the moment, and have little enough crime, we simply can't spare the mages or the undead administrators. The way east is just too big and the other kingdoms we've absorbed have… issues, of their own. But the colonists there are a hardy people, the ones who go west over the sea, usually are." He extended a hand down to her as if to help her to rise above her place, as she had risen from her long fall in the past, and to help her rise above her fears. "They can manage. So can your son."
She inclined her head gratefully. "My Lord, I am grateful to the depths of my heart for your kind words. I suppose all mothers feel as I do. Your daughter wrote about this very thing in her journals. About the day Zyanya, Gottfried, and Mu'Trieu all left her and their siblings behind to ride east after the Minotaur Civil War and the new Ard Rhi offered his submission and called for your aid for his people. She wrote of her fear that they would not come home, her fear that if they did come home, they would come home wounded the way she did. Marcus is the child of his grandparents line." She drank deeply from the glass and set it back down on the tray, then folded her hands behind her back.
"Cenna's whimsy was passed onto Gottfried, and Neia's wrathful eyes and buried nature are below the surface. It makes him a great and passionate warrior, like none of his cousins. But he's naive, I sheltered him, I'm afraid, now I find I'm terrified for him." She laughed a bit, "War and adventure… the dread of all mothers."
"Would you like me to send a shadow demon to watch over him? I'm sure I can spare one." Ainz could not smile, but she could feel his generosity of spirit washing over her like only a god's could.
She bowed her head and shook it, "Very much so, Sire. But if he ever thought it was there, he'd forever question my trust in him, and forever doubt his accomplishments. I will have to be brave, and see his absence through."
"As you wish it." Ainz replied politely and opened the gate behind her. "You may return to Pas'en, and carry my regards to my grandson, farewell, Prince Kaiji."
"Until next I am privileged to kneel to you again, My Lord." She bowed deeply and backed through the gate without turning away.
When she was gone, Ainz turned to Albedo at his right hand, "Come with me." He shot up from his throne and descended the long steps. He didn't need to look behind him to know that she was there.
Her steps were light and lithe as they clipped and clapped against the stone, fast and sharp in contrast to his long and heavy strides, a high pitch to his low one. Albedo kept her head bowed deeply and her hands folded in front of her, no question came to mind from the moment the order came, she knew where they were going. His walk was always like this, when he went there.
Down, down into the depths of Nazarick, where two bodies lay in their eternal rest. To the sixth floor. Within minutes he arrived at his destination, where he found Mare sitting beside the lake, watching his son swim.
"Lord Ainz!" Mare exclaimed and went to one knee as soon as Ainz came into view. "What can I do for you?"
"It's nothing large, Mare, just raise a bridge to the mausoleum." Ainz said calmly. Mare immediately leapt to his feet.
"At once, My Lord!" He exclaimed and spun around to face the lake.
His son was already swimming hastily to the shore and presented himself at one knee as soon as he reached the shore. "L-Lord Ainz." He said nervously.
Ainz suppressed the urge to laugh. The white and black hair of his mother, the skin and face of his father, and the ears of a blending from both… but his father's youthful stutter… and from the skirt at the shore, his father's youthful tendency to cross dress. An odd, but exuberant boy, that son of a guardian was.
"It's fine, Raymond. You can continue to play, I'm here for work of my own." Ainz said and patted the boy's head.
"Ah, oh, OK Lord Ainz." The young one exclaimed and jumped up, then rushed back to the water, jumping in a few feet from where the earth rose from the lake under Mare's control, and the water drained away, creating a dry path to the small island in the center that was wide enough for two to pass abreast.
Ainz was walking before it finished extending and moments later, there he was. A monument of such impossible intricacy and detail that it might have been created in Nazarick's heyday. With perfectly carved representations, polished to a shine and representing the most important scenes and moments from the lives of the dead who lay within.
Ainz went to the front, a great, heavy bronze door stood in his way. Albedo stood beside him, for a moment he hesitated when she touched his hand. "Together, my love." She whispered.
He hesitated no more, and they reached to the two part seal that kept it secured, and undid it. The great double doors opened, and they stepped within. There lay the bodies of the first Pope, the mother of terror, the first of the Black Paladins and founder of the faith, the Demon of the West… and his daughter, all in one person, Neia Baraja. Beside her, her vice commander, the first and one of the few to look into her eyes with something other than fear, and her life long wife.
Ainz let his eyes linger on the pair, whose hands still lay clasped together as if they were merely sleeping, eyes closed and loving smiles on their lips. Happy in their rest, it seemed.
He walked past them to a small podium, a recent addition, where a single book sat on display.
Albedo stood at his side while he turned the pages. "Do you know why I truly have not invested as much into the western colonies, Albedo?"
The Guardian overseer shook her head. "No, My Lord."
Ainz laid his open hand on the pages of the book. "Because of what lies within here, inside the Book of All Days, where all the prophecies made throughout her life, from the time of her trial until the day she died, were put together. I believe we are coming to another critical juncture in time."
Albedo was silent, and laid her hand again onto the hand of her King, the hand that rested over the ink covered book. The pages were covered with the scrawled hand of someone who wrote in a chaotic moment. The screams that must have resounded in those days to rip that knowledge of the future into the present must have been horrific. "Her last gift. I never did get to thank her."
"It was a privilege, you know that, my Lord." Albedo whispered, "I think she wanted you to be proud of her, one last time, and to be useful even when she wasn't here, that's the measure of how deeply her love ran."
She looked behind her, bitterly at the corpses that lay at rest. "You could restore them, you know, whenever you wanted. None of them would complain."
Ainz shook his head, "I know, and maybe someday, but not now. Ainz patted his robe. "There is one more page to this book, and not until we get to the end of this one, will I read the last."
Albedo looked at him in surprise with her large yellow eyes suddenly widened. "My love, surely…"
He cut her off. "No. But now on to the present. Ainz began to run through the list of recent events, drawing his finger down the book's lines until he jabbed his finger at a line.
Ainz looked over to Albedo and held his finger hard in place. "What did the captives we rescued, call the beastmen?"
"The Hungry Ones." She replied reflexively. Ainz looked back down at the page where his finger pointed.
"Eyes of terror… hungry ones… dread of mothers at the Throne of Kings…" He muttered as he read the lines.
"Have Demiurge check the alignment of the stars to these numbers." Ainz pointed to a string of digits, and then after she glanced and immediately memorized them, he marked the page, closed the book, then put his hand to her cheek.
"Albedo… if you had to choose between me and your maker, who would you choose?" He asked seriously.
"You! Always you, My Lord!" She exclaimed without hesitation, her voice echoing off the walls as if she were trying to wake the sleeping dead at their backs. She reached up and touched the white bones of his cheek. "You never need to ask, I'm yours, I will always be yours. However you want me, for as long as you'll have me."
"I hope the others share that sentiment." Ainz whispered to the slightly trembling Albedo. "Or, I hope that this once, if never again, that prophecy proves wrong. Come along, let's go, we've got work to do."
Ainz said, and left the Mausoleum, he did not look at the bodies again, until he and Albedo stood side by side, and resealed the doors together.