When he returned to Nazarick, questions were abound, but Momonga's answers were put into the form of instruction. "I went out to have a little fun." He said to Albedo and put her hand into hers, "I felt at ease, relaxed, and wonderful, don't worry about a thing. Now, about our many guests. Arrange for them to have a bodyguard from among our Eight Edge Assassins. I wouldn't want anything to happen to them after they leave, and ensure they're able to visit here whenever they like. Those who can stay, can stay if they like. Those who can't, who have obligations, I will see them off."
He found Neia Baraja on the sands of the arena standing beside Enri Emmott, the pair was fighting urgently against Cocytus, and though they were losing, it was interesting to observe. Where Enri fought by attack, swinging her sword without much of anything in the way of skill, it was obvious to some degree that she was venting. Her frustration poured out of her like water over a cliff.
Meanwhile Neia Baraja fought with steady precision born of practice and precision, switching seamlessly from bow to sword as she avoided attempts to pin her down. It was clear that Cocytus was holding back, giving them every chance to improve and critiquing them along the way.
"Good. Do. Not. Move. Much. You. Will. Tire. But. Strike. True." He said, pausing when Momonga came into view and lowering his glaive to signal a halt to their training.
"Neia, you're supposed to hunt down some demihumans threatening your country, are you not?" Momonga asked, and she at once took a knee before him.
"Yes, My Lord." She answered.
"I will send someone to help you. Return to the room I've given you, gather anything you need," he approached and put his hands on her shoulders, he brought her straight up to her feet, "and of course, know that you can come visit me any time you like. My home is yours." He promised.
Neia blinked back tears at the familiar gesture and kindly words that not even her own parents had uttered toward her. "I-I don't know what to say."
"Say you will visit me soon." He said with a wink.
"Of course!" She grinned ear to ear, "I'll be due for some leave soon, if you like, if you'd have me, I would be delighted to spend it here with you! Maybe we can go hunting together or something?" It was such a ridiculous offer in her own mind that she expected him to refuse, but to her delight, he did not.
"That would be welcome." He said, and turned his attention to Enri.
"You are of course welcome to remain, continue to work hard, and one day you might be formidable." Momonga encouraged her, and the blonde peasant bowed her head low.
"I will repay your kindness to me and my little sister." Enri promised, "You are the finest of all the lords I've ever heard of."
So it went. Oma and Draudillon were next, leaving to conduct business and promising to return, followed by Gazef and his soldiers.
Others, such as Brain Unglaus, were able to remain, or like the Princess of Re-Estize, could remain 'longer' at least.
But by the time the afternoon hit, there were fewer in Nazarick than when the morning began.
For the next few days, Momonga started to make a habit of his 'strolls' through Arwintar, playing the role of the wandering judge, he threw coins into fountains and drew on his experience as a guildmaster and as someone who played every story he could in the past, many of which featured wise judges or clever wits… which he mercilessly and shamelessly stole from.
And his reputation spread.
It spread all the way to the halls of the palace.
"That didn't take long." Jircniv said when the last petitioner to the throne was gone.
The hall of his court was usually packed with people trying to appeal to him directly, but in the course of a mere week it had dropped off considerably. There were still those asking for favors and attempting to make bargains of some sort.
But the number of people attempting to appeal the rulings of his judges was drastically reduced compared to what it had been, and as such, he now had far, far more free time than he expected.
And that was suspicious. 'One day is a fluke, but a week is a pattern.' He thought and turned to his advisor. "Do you happen to have an explanation for this?"
"I might." Fluder Paradyne said before the minister could speak.
Jircniv turned his head over toward his teacher and advisor in matters of magic. "You?" He asked with one golden eyebrow raised, "Since when do you care for anything but magic?"
"Never." Fluder chuckled, "But my wayward student returned to the academy a few days ago and spoke of a wise judge walking the streets of Arwintar hearing cases. His rulings are said to be so wise that nobody questions them."
"Really…?" Jircniv asked, his brow did not go down.
"I've heard something similar, apparently he's quite popular with the crowds." Minister Bowlora said and rubbed his chin in thought, "I haven't seen him personally, but it seems even some nobles have started to go to this traveling sage instead of the courts… perhaps we should invite him to the palace?"
"Yes… yes, let's. I'm not one to waste a talent, we need all of that that we can get." The Emperor said with an affirming nod. "Send a messenger out in search of this wandering sage. Tell him I would like him to join me for dinner."
"Of course, Your Highness, but… how do we ask him? Do we ask him kindly or… do we ask him hard?" The minister asked with a wayward glance at some of the guards who lined the wall.
"He's committed no offense, invite him generously, tell him I would like to test his wisdom and his taste buds. If he refuses, let him go. Talent is only useful when it is lent on favorable terms. Wisdom isn't something you can chain, and we may win more from him by allowing a refusal than we would if we become hostile." Jircniv advised, and his minister bowed deeply as he stepped back.
"At once, my Emperor," was the only answer offered, and the only one acceptable.