The night was a blur to Gazef, all he knew was that his new friend was amply supplied with alcohol and was more than willing to share it. Beer after beer, ale after ale, cup of wine after cup of wine. "This is a custom on a world I once inhabited, where those who work together drink for hours." Momonga explained.

Gazef vaguely recalled his answer, "We do that too, it's called 'evenings'."

Then there was laughter.

Then a haze.

Then it seemed as if Momonga was swaying left and right… before Gazef felt himself hit the floor.

The Warrior Captain's eyes fluttered open, the light was dim, but it might as well have been the sun itself come to visit him on his deathbed. He put a hand over his forehead and groaned, the drums of an army were pounding inside his skull. "Am I dead?" He wondered, "Is this… heaven?" He asked himself, his head turning left and right and beholding the luxury of a King of Kings surrounding him within four walls.

In another room, a noise of babbling water rang out, and he reached for the sheets and blanket to push them down. They were softer than any cloth he'd ever felt, and bright white with golden thread in a whirling spiral pattern. To his right, he saw the gentle pulse of a glowing stone, the source of the light that mirrored the throbbing in his head.

Gazef looked down at himself, his warrior garb and armor were all gone, no gambeson, nor metal, instead he found himself clad in scarlet silk nightclothes. 'Did I dress myself?' He asked himself and then thought of the way he'd landed shoulder first onto the floor, and the way the room spun above his head before blackness claimed him. 'No… no I definitely did not.' That begged the question of just who did it?

The answer to that question appeared just as he was pushing himself up on the thick mattress, a woman in a maid outfit, blonde hair, large blue eyes and a smile that was both radiant… and set off every alarm bell in his body. "You're awake. Welcome back to the world, guest of the forty-one." She curtseyed with the perfect grace of a well trained maid, lowering her eyes only slightly bending her knees after her ankles crossed. "I am Solution Epsilon, one of the Pleiades Battle Maids, and your attendant for the present, I will fulfill any wish you have of me."

Gazef raised one eyebrow, the phrase was uncommonly bold, and she was silent, seemingly waiting for his instruction. Instead he had only questions, "Ahem, were you the one who changed me last night?" He asked the most pressing one first.

"I am. But not to worry," she said and placed a hand on her ample chest, "I am a consummate professional and did absolutely nothing to disgrace our master's guest."

"I-I see. And that noise?" He asked of the noise of rushing water.

"A bath, I did clean up the vomit before putting you to bed, and your clothing, armor, and any other belongings are there," she pointed to a cherrywood wardrobe in the corner, "freshly cleaned and ready for wear, if you insist on wearing it again."

"It seems I have inconvenienced you a great deal. Permit me to apologize." Gazef bowed his head to the maid, his skin tingled as it tended to do when he was near a powerful monster. 'A battle maid… so a maid trained for combat? Just… why?' He wondered. One question answered, and like a hydra whose head had been cut off, two more appeared in its place.

The maid's smile was some blend of sultry and savage, "It's my duty and pleasure to serve, now if it please you?" She asked and turned to one side, removing herself from obstructing his view of the doorway.

Beyond the door he could see a raised marble bath with a long counter to one side set just beneath a wall length mirror. On a small shelf beside the bath sat a number of bottles of indeterminate contents, the water was rising, small waves going back and forth against the tub's inner walls as it filled.

Though the maid spoke as if it were an invitation, from the way she looked, it wasn't.

"I should get clean, it wouldn't do for me to go around this wondrous place looking shabby. I'd disgrace myself, my home, and myself all at once." He said and slid his legs over the side of the bed. The maid seemed pleased with his response, though how he knew as she gave no outward sign of it, he couldn't have said.

He simply felt the danger decline just a little.

When his feet hit the floor, he stopped as if he found himself under the gaze of a basilisk. The maid cocked her head, "Is something wrong?" She inquired.

Gazef looked down, beneath his feet was a thick soft material… a rug, a scarlett rug. He scrunched his toes against the material, "I- No. No, nothing." He said and kept staring down at the impossible luxury. 'Even the King doesn't have a carpet like this.' He gasped, "I've just never felt anything like this on my bare feet before."

The maid didn't laugh at him as he half expected her to, rather she cracked a tiny smile, "The work of the forty-one gods is a marvel beyond compare." She replied and then showed her back to him to walk into the bathroom.

Her hand passed out of view against the wall and the noise of water cut off.

The hangover wasn't gone, but distracted by so much luxury, the Royal Head Warrior felt it begin to diminish. He finally took a step, reluctant though he was to raise his feet from the plush feel of the cloud like carpet. The lure of a bath was too much to resist.

"My robe, do I-?" Gazef asked, and the maid only looked from him to the bath and answered…

"That is for you to decide. I don't mind either way, human bodies don't bother me in the least, they even have their uses." She chuckled a little half under her breath, though when she did, Gazef knew one thing for sure.

'I think I'm glad I don't know why she's laughing.' As it was, he removed the robe, 'She's seen me naked already anyway.' He reasoned and slipped in, the hot water nearly scalding but not quite, he sighed heavily and spread his arms out on the tub. His head tilted back as her words turned over in his head. 'Humans? Is she not human?' He asked himself, and that made a particular amount of sense.

"Hold still, you need a shave, and if you move it will hurt." Solution instructed.

Gazef looked around, he didn't see a razor anywhere. "How-" His question was cut off before it could begin as the fingers of her hand melded together and became an opaque bluish shade.

"A slime?" He asked, and the cause of his danger sense was answered.

"Not just any slime. I am an Oblex." She answered with a smile that could only be described as prideful. "The perfect choice for an assassin if I do say so myself."

Gazef racked his brain in search of the name of her species, but came up empty. Before he could probe further, the opaque blue was pressed against his cheek, and the stubble of days worth of growing beard began to sizzle away as it was devoured down to the pores. The touch was feather gentle, and her luminous blue eyes never left his face. Not while it cleared his cheeks, chin, or his neck.

"Don't worry about the sweat, but don't move, you're so weak I might make you bleed by accident, and I'm sure my master would be unhappy. That won't do, that won't do at all." Solution insisted while Gazef's heart pounded harder in his chest than it had in any battle in his life.

"What happens now?" He asked when she removed her hand to examine her handiwork.

"A tour of your new home, and we start turning you into something that deserves it." Solution answered, and the questions in Gazef's mind only grew larger from there.