Gazef wrestled with the question by himself for some time, an indeterminate period really, and though he savored the heavenly softness of the grass, the perfection of the gentle breeze and the noise it made rustling over dancing blades of grass and saying trees… nothing could truly distract him from the troubles plaguing his mind.
'The nobles set me up to die, I know they did. Whether it was the Empire, the Slane Theocracy, or a band of hired butchers sent to kill me, I know they launched this plot to weaken the King. So what do I do about it?' He asked himself and let his body fall limp, his arms outstretched, he stared up at the sky and watched the clouds drift gently past.
It was still impossible to believe that they weren't real, but over the last few hours the little dark elves were free with information about their creators, their home, and other things about their master. 'A god. There is no other explanation, gods once lived here.' Gazef reasoned, and glancing out of the corner of his eye, he could tell he was not alone in coming to that conclusion.
The quiet talk among the soldiers was about the best way to show reverence to the god that had, evidently, rescued them and punished their ambushers. But to Gazef? The deification was impressive, just in another way. 'I never cared much for gods, a good sword always answered prayers that the gods never did, but now here I am in the home of a god… and I don't quite know what to do. Maybe I should have listened to the priests more.' He thought with a little black humored self recrimination.
Listening to his men didn't really help his ability to think, their sense of awe was rapidly turning into a new religion, or something like it. 'Does it really matter if he's a god or not?' Gazef asked, but before he could answer the question for himself, the wood elf boy approached and leaned forward over Gazef's face. "Master wants you to join him for dinner. We've got to hurry!"
While the frankly beautiful child fidgeted with his staff as if he was nervous, to Gazef's eyes it was an act, like a predetermined thing, a tic someone couldn't quite control, but wholly apart from who they were within. 'If I were to refuse, being dragged out by my hair is not beyond the realm of possibility.' He realized, but more importantly, refusal was unthinkable anyway, not for the one to avenge the dead.
So he got to his feet and gave a polite half bow to the boy, "Then I am in your care, please guide me." Gazef said, and the boy perked right up, straightening immediately, the boy said…
"F-Follow me, master w-wants you to see some of his home on the w-way!" Mare's voice rose several octaves higher when he craned his neck up at the muscled human, and then rushed off toward the exit.
Momonga sat at the table, a piece of furniture he never looked at twice until now. Exceptionally long, it could seat one hundred and two guests comfortably, its dark wood was polished to a mirror shine, with each chair carved to match. The lore was exceptional, carved from a branch of the world tree and… something else Momonga couldn't recall. The truth though was that it was one of the little vanity items to add realism and depth to the world of Yggdrasil. But it had some interesting flavor text. Cold dishes would not warm up, hot dishes would not go cold, and the spices such as salt, sugar, and pepper would not run out. 'In a pinch, I could probably just tilt the little jars over empty bags and sell them for a small fortune. I seem to recall hearing that these things were expensive in the distant past. I'll need to learn the value of our coins versus the ones here…' The weight of tasks that needed doing began to press down on his shoulders harder than any enemy's blow ever could.
'Stop. Think. This is just like being a guildmaster, I had to handle finances then too, so…' As Momonga thought of it that way, the stress began to ease, at least a little. 'I will need help though, lots of help.' That thought made him even more certain of the plan that was forming in his mind. Framing it as needing help made it feel better too, though how to frame it to the Guardians was another matter.
'One thing at a time, Satoru… no, one thing at a time 'Momonga' what good is my old name now?' He told himself and sat at the table just in time for there to be a knock at the door.
"Come in." Momona said, and Mare opened the door, leading a pale faced Gazef into the cavernous dining hall, his eyes all but bugged out of his head while he took in the luxurious crystal chandeliers, the pale polished walls bedecked with works of art that made his country's palace art appear to be the work of flailing infants.
Only knowing that he was representing his King and Kingdom kept Gazef's shoulders from slumping in defeat. "Lord Momonga." Gazef said and gave a very deep bow that lasted until Momonga rose to his feet and gestured to a seat close by.
"You are my guest, please, there is no need to be formal." Momonga said generously, though Mare gasped before covering his mouth with one hand at the almost scandalous familiarity, Gazef politely accepted the kindness, approaching the table and seating himself at the same moment as his host.
"I-I'll go make sure the food is on the way, My Lord!" Mare eeped out, and when Momonga nodded, he scurried for the door. Not eager to leave the Supreme One, but to compose himself in the face of one unexpected thing after another.
"Still, you've been generous to us." Gazef said with sincerity and bowed his head, "It is uncommon for nobles of your stature to be generous to a mere peasant and his common soldiers."
"Is that so?" Momonga asked, calling upon his past as a salesman to get his guest talking.
"Yes… when I was a peasant living in a village like that one, we prayed for heroes to come protect us, but no one ever came. So I- I resolved to be the one who did what the boyhood me only dreamed of doing. Protecting the weak that way, it's common sense. But it is a sense that most nobles lack." Gazef said, and wondered at the way his host jolted straight as if struck by lightning.
'The very words of Touch Me… is it possible that… no. Momonga, you're being foolish. Why should they be any different than you?' He told himself to doubt, but when Gazef said the same exact words as Touch me on the day they met, the master of Nazarick felt a spark light up in his heart.
"You care deeply for your soldiers, that is an admirable quality." It was a dodge, a clunky dodge, but the urge to probe deeper came over Momonga and would not let go.
"We lay down our lives for each other, and have fought many battles." Gazef said just as the door opened again and the meal arrived, a silver cart laden with silver trays rolled forward through the door, pushed by a maid and followed by Mare.
"M-My Lord, Sebas has returned. Sh-Should I help him or…?" Mare asked, and Ainz looked briefly away from his guest.
"Yes, there are forty-one all total, including Gazef. I'm afraid the maids will be overburdened. If you wish to break out Bukubukuchagama's present and assist them, you may." Momonga said, and Mare's nervous face lit up.
The gift in question was a maid outfit, one of the things she used to dress her NPCs up in, with black and white frills and pockets enchanted to produce simple cleaning materials, it was on par with or better than the outfits the homunculi wore… but it had been ages since Mare last wore it. Granted permission to do so at last, it was just the reward he wished.
"Th-Thank you, My Lord!" He cried out, bowed, and rushed off to go try on the longed for outfit, while Fifth wheeled the cart close and began with quiet professionalism, to lay out the meal before her master and his guest.
Gazef picked up seamlessly where he left off. "And we also have comrades who depend on us, families, and friends who are like family. And there is no greater love than laying your life down for your friends."
Momonga felt that same jolt strike him again as the very motto of his guild was recited by the stranger at his table. 'Could my friends have… have reincarnated here as other beings? Humans? Other races? I don't know what happened to anyone but Hero Hero. If they died in the real world, could their spirits have found their way to this place? Could they be the reason I was called here? Or perhaps… perhaps I was called to a place that just had people 'like' them. To make new friends…?' Either seemed equally mysterious and equally plausible and implausible alike.
But what he wanted to believe, and what he knew of his friends told Momonga one thing.
'They wouldn't want me alone with no one to call a friend…' That much, Momonga was sure of, and he repeated the conclusion to himself before finally speaking.
"Gazef, you have moved me. Those are the very words of… well if you call me a god, then the words you spoke were the words of lost gods, the gods I once called friends. Comrades of mine who built this place alongside me. Perhaps you are the reincarnated figure of the first of them I called a friend. Perhaps his spirit led me to you, to this place from the world I once lived in." Momonga paused, he took a deep breath, 'Forty-one soldiers including a leader, and twice he recites the words of my guildmate and my guild? No… whether that mad thought is right or not, it can't be coincidence.' He told himself and with renewed confidence, he finished speaking, "So for that reason I make you this offer, join me."
Gazef felt his head spin, "Join you… but My Lord… I'm sworn to the Kingdom of Re-Estize! I can't betray my oath!"
"I am not asking for you to become my subordinate, Gazef. I am asking for you to join me as a comrade." Momonga said, "Accept, and what you protect, I will protect, and what is more, to make sure you are a true comrade and not a mere subordinate, I will make sure you find your way to the power of gods."
With deliverance put before him in the form of an outstretched hand, Gazef searched for a downside, and found none. 'I keep my oath, protect my Kingdom, and acquire a truly noble comrade who fulfills the wishes of my foolish boy's heart… I'd be a mad fool to say no.' He thought and thrust out his hand to clasp that of Momonga.
"I could never be prouder than to call a man like you, friend." Gazef said, and the meal they shared after, tasted even better for the spirit in which it was eaten. Though for the life of him, there was never a day after that one, despite recalling it as the most sumptuous thing he'd eaten up to that point, that he could actually recall what it was he'd devoured with such relish.