EXCUBITORE: Well I can just advise you to read on, this episode should already give you some clues.
Author Note: You know that quote from Benjamin Franklin?
"By want of a nail, the shoe was lost,
For lack of a shoe, the horse was lost,
For lack of a horse, the rider was lost,
Without a rider, the battle was lost,
By want of a battle, the kingdom was lost,
And all that, by want of a horseshoe nail."
Uncontrolled Escalation
Great Tomb of Nazarick, level 10
Demiurge tightened his tie and quickly combed his hair with his fingers.
He stood at the top of a flight of steps in the Legemeton, just outside the Gate of Judgment, a massive wooden double door beautifully decorated with a carved pattern. The right side represented a beautiful winged goddess; the left side represented a reptilian demon with bat wings.
The Legemeton was a huge hemispherical room on several levels filled with 72 niches. Almost each contained a golem ready to come alive to defend Nazarick. (1) It was the last line of defense of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Suddenly, the huge door turned on its hinges and a comparatively tiny creature came out.
Entoma - an arachnid battle maid- bowed deeply before the demon.
"Demiurge-sama, the Creator will receive you."
The Floor Guardian thanked the maid with a smile and entered the Throne Room following her.
The room was huge, somewhat like the nave of a cathedral, and so long that hundreds of people could have gathered there. The ceiling was 10 feet above the ground. As the demon walked on the thick red carpet that formed an aisle in the center of the room, he admired the purple banners adorned with the personal emblems of the Forty-One Supreme Beings hanging between each column, alternating grey stone cylinders engraved with black stone and black stone engraved with grey one.
At the end of the long alley, some statues bordered a staircase dominated by an imposing throne. The room was lit by a gigantic chandelier of black metal and blue crystal.
Stopping a few steps before the lowest step, Demiurge knelt down and bowed his head, looking at the red carpet.
"Demiurge, 7th Floor Guardian, hail to the Supreme One Ainz Ooal Gown."
Ainz Ooal Gown was an undead creature devoid of skin of flesh; he looked like a huge skeleton of a humanoid creature dressed in a black, gold and purple hooded dress. The dress was open on the front which allowed seeing a strange red orb floating just below his ribcage. A feeling of dread emanated from this energy ball.
"Welcome, Demiurge, you can raise your head. Report to me."
Ainz had listened attentively, content - from time to time- to nod or sketch a chin movement.
It must be said that the Supreme Being Ainz Ooal Gown was an individual of average intelligence and an even more average education... When he was just a Japanese employee called Suzuki Satoru, he learned two things. First, it was easier to reveal one's shortcomings by speaking than by being silent. Then listening carefully increased the chances of understanding and memorizing.
Though not as awesome as the Floor Guardians thought, Ainz always did his best. With Nazarick's best interests at heart, he was dedicated to protecting what he and his friends had created. And then... he was incredibly lucky. Even though his plans were sometimes sketchy, even clumsy, unlikely coincidences and reversals often combined to give the illusion that the unexpected outcome had in fact been premeditated by the Supreme One. In Awe, the Floor Guardians imagined that Ainz was a Machiavellian manipulator implementing his own plans that he hid even from his most faithful servants... except that this was not the case!
Ainz was perpetually anxious. Every time he had to make a decision, he feared committing an irretrievable clumsiness, which revealed to the 'children' of his friends that he was only an impostor... neither a god nor a great sorcerer... just an ordinary Japanese employee.
The undead bony hand stroked his chin.
"I see..." finally said Ainz, it was a vague enough answer to be interpreted in different ways.
Obviously, Demiurge took this for a measured reproach.
The demon bowed his head.
"I understand that I have disappointed you, Ainz-sama. I hope to catch up afterward..."
Feeling briefly a violent emotion, Ainz stood up, waving his hand.
"Wait, Demiurge, you are mistaken. I do not blame you. I understand that your failure is not your own fault..."
Suzuki Satoru thought quickly. He had not really understood Demiurge's plan. As always it was a succession of very complicated stratagems, with many simultaneous actions and... oh... that's it!
A green aura surrounded Ainz, calming him instantly.
"Demiurge, your plan was too complicated. Each phase required the previous phase to succeed. It was enough for the tunnel dug by the goblins to collapse so that your battle plan is no longer applicable... Nevertheless, the goblin leader who commanded Targos' siege did not ask for further instructions. He was probably too afraid to report a failure to the 'Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth'. And without the tunnel diversion, the frontal assault failed. Do you understand better why I insist that the inhabitants of Nzarick can work in good conditions? If an employee is silent and does not report the difficulties he encounters, out of fear of his boss, it is ultimately the entire company that suffers."
Demiuge looked at his master with an expression of surprise and admiration on his face.
"It's beautifully well thought out, Ainz-sama, I didn't understand that. Thank you for explaining my mistake to me."
Often the simple and direct reasoning of Suzuki Satoru was mistaken for genius ideas
But, was it really wrong?
Most people believe that genius is a form of hypercomplex reasoning that only the most intelligent can understand.
This is not true.
Genius is to solve a complex problem in a simple way. In fact, when someone has a genius idea, the reaction of others around him often boils down to: "Damn, of course! Why didn't I think of it first?"
Ironically, Ainz had a moderating influence that largely explained Nazarick's successes so far.
The strategy applied by the Sorcerer Kingdom was essentially imagined by Demiurge.
While the demon tended to unnecessarily complicate his schemes because he was too cerebral and always wanted to demonstrate his intellectual superiority -trying to think of everything and integrating all possible scenarios into his plans- Ainz frequently asked Demiurge to simplify...
... In the first instance, because poor Suzuki Satoru was strangled in the mass of details.
But a battle plan is a bit like a clock mechanism. The more gears there are, the more likely it is that a gear get caught. The assault on Targos proved it. The tunnel had collapsed, some teleportation scrolls had not worked properly... and the chaos had spread causing Demiurge's 'awesome' plan to fail.
Ainz tapped softly on the armrest of his throne.
"The conversation got sidetracked; you were trying to explain to me why the Holly Kingdom rally was delayed."
Normally, according to the original schedule, Ainz would have already intervened and 'saved' Robble threatened by Jaldabaoth. (2)
Demiurge readjusted his glasses.
"Well, my plan was to destroy the army of the northern barons, to force the southern army... the strategic reserves of the army of the Holy Kingdom... to leave the central plains. I would have taken the opportunity to attack the Great Wall. Robble's army would have been trapped, surrounded, and destroyed. (3)
Ainz nodded his head.
"Except the northern barons still haven't left Daggerford."
"Yes, Ainz-sama, because of the resistance of Targos. That said my plan has not yet failed. For now, the barons have just delayed their counter-attack because Targos is resisting. But the city is surrounded and the relief army has been destroyed. It is inevitable that they will attack to break the siege."
The Supreme Being listened, leaning, with his chin resting on his hand.
"And the army of the barons of the North shall be destroyed when they cross the Shulayen River."
"Yes, Ainz-sama."
"You failed at Targos because your plan lacked flexibility. Now imagine that the barons' army does not pass by the bridge and decides to bypass the orc blockade, what would you do?"
Initially destabilized by the question, Demiurge smiled.
"Ainz-sama, what I can't get by cunning... I just have to take it by force! Do I have permission to use the Dragonspear?"
"Oh..."
Again Ainz rubbed his chin, clicking his bony fingers covered with magic rings adorned with huge jewel stones.
Ulbert Alain Ode, Demiurge's creator, was a Yggdrasil Player who had a demon as his game's avatar. Ulbert was a Sorcerer. He had created many magical objects, such as Armageddon Evil. The demon sorcerer wanted to create an item capable of endlessly invoking demons, literally a 'Demon Apocalypse' maker! But the statuette he finally achieved can only summon a few minor demons simultaneously. It was far from the demonic tidal wave imagined by Ulbert.
After this failure, Ulbert's research had taken another direction. He created a spear carved from a demon dragon horn...
"So be it, but don't forget... the 'Carrot-or-Stick' plan is to push humans to voluntarily submit to Nazarick, not to destroy them."
"Fear not, Ainz-sama... I would only use IT to destroy the army of the northern barons. The people of Robble will be so terrified that they will call for your help."
"All right, you have permission to go to the Treasury. Pandora's Actor will give you the Dragonpear."
Kerad Castle, Holly Robble Kingdom
The mist that stagnated on Kerad was produced by the lake and the frosty morning. It was a cold, damp steam that seeped into the bones. The castle was built to defend a mining area from bandits. It was not a powerful fortress and its garrison reached barely two hundred fighters.
The troops were mounted on the walls. They watched death advancing towards them in the form of a ram directed towards the gates. The sticky mist clung to the freshly skinned skins that covered this mobile casemate. How to burn the war machine in such conditions?
The soldiers of the baronies threw naphtha grenades at the attackers who pushed ladders and a siege tower toward the ramparts. They were simple spherical terracotta pots filled with some sort of black oil. They broke on the shields of the goblins dressed in furs and clad with rusty pieces of equipment, wrapping them in a liquid fire that turned them into human torches that rolled on the ground screaming.
Archers equipped with bad goat-horn bows fired a volley of short arrows stabilized by a tail of crow feathers. The projectiles broke on the battlements and the defenders' heaters shields. Their crossbows responded. Gaping gaps opened in the rush of humanoids that pressed at the foot of the walls. But others were still coming, an inexhaustible flood that closed the wounds appeared in the green tide.
The ladders touched the merlons and a swarm of goblins began to climb. At the summit, they met the broadswords of the Baron of Kerad's men-at-arms. Some ladders were pushed back and fell among the flood of enemies.
Hundreds of goblins had already perished, But it was impossible to realize it, it seemed that the number of enemies had not decreased up against the walls. There were only 60 defenders on the other side. However, they were determined to sell their skin as expensive as possible. The greenskins fell back screaming, sprinkling their blood on the reinforcements. A few men-at-arms were also killed, but for one of them who collapsed ten goblins accompanied him in the Underworld. Some attackers who arrived at the top of the walls preferred to jump into the void rather than face the terrible defenders covered with blood. Others dropped their weapons before reaching the ladders and ran towards the bottom of the valley.
The first wave of greenskins was massacred and fell to pieces at the foot of the ramparts, accentuating the panic of the attackers. The survivors retreated in disorder, leaving behind a ground littered with corpses.
But it wasn't a victory, just the end of the first act. Already coarse horns of war and tam-tams sounded their exalted saraband.
The ram had continued to advance and its head swung a first time before hitting the oak door reinforced with fittings. The defenders dropped stones from the machicolations, but the projectiles bounced off the wooden plank roof without doing any damage. Suddenly, from a tube came boiling oil. The goblins who were pushing the war machine were splashed and twisted to the ground, horribly scalded.
The siege tower was now in front of the walls despite all attempts to burn it down. The drawbridge made of thick beams badly joined fell on the rampart. The defenders of this section were mere levies, ordinary peasants who used scythes and forks as weapons. They had a backward movement when they saw a flood of orcs rush to them. The brutish humanoids were dressed in steel armor covered with spikes and brandishing barbed scimitars.
In an instant, the battle turned into carnage. The peasants were too poorly armed to face such enemies. The orcs easily pushed them away, extending the beachhead. Suddenly, trumpets rang, announcing the arrival of reinforcements. They were knights in flat armor that surrounded the baron of Kerad. All had heater shields with family's coat-of-arms, longswords, and armet's helmets adorned with colorful feathers.
The attackers who dared to approach the knights were cut in half and the violence of the fight redoubled. Even if the orcs were more numerous and received more and more reinforcements, their advance was blocked. From the bottom of the walls, from time to time, one could see a warrior falling into the void after a last scream of terror.
However, the battle inevitably turned in favor of the Demi-Human Alliance.
The ram continued tirelessly to beat the door. Now, with each blow, the double doors vibrated and bent inward. The massive hinges on which the panels were pivoting threatened to break. The metal bars that closed them were about to tear themselves from their dwellings.
A shock even more violent than the others threw to the ground the soldiers who supported the door, and then a screech of bad omen preceded the fall of the panels torn from their hinges
Some defenders were crushed under the falling doors. Others regrouped, grabbed their halberds, and regrouped in a hedgehog formation bristling with steel.
The ram retreated to make way for a rush of wolf-riders. These goblins charged with their scimitars in their fists. The halberds received the shock, shoulders to shoulders, smashing the heads of the wolves with their weapons, repelling fangs and blades with the poles. In the vault of the door, machicolations appeared. Boiling oil, stones, and Greek fire fell among the monstrous horsemen. The carnage provoked the frantic flight of the aggressors, but a flood of infantrymen replaced them. Goblins, but also some ogres and trolls.
The halberds fought as long as they could. Their lines bent and fell apart. Some died there; others took refuge in houses or were pushed further and further by the tide of greenskins. The doors of the defensive towers were crushed with axes by the invaders. The crossbowmen fought on the stairs and eventually succumbed. The goblins breaking out from the door outflanked the defenders on the ramparts. Some groups surrounded fought for hours. The glorious exploits of these defenders, however, were never to be known to the other inhabitants of Robble because none of them survived.
When night came, Kerad Castle burned and the ground was covered with dead… two hundred soldiers (only 80 professionals) had managed to kill more than two thousand goblins and orcs. However, it had been a very small battle. The hordes that flowed through the valley reminded that the siege of Kerad castle had been an anecdotal event, almost derisory, in a much larger conflict.
The horde seemed to stretch to the horizon. It was a river nearly twenty yards wide flowing through the valley,
Thousands of warriors... maybe fifty thousand half-human, orcs and goblins, but also serpentmen, spriggans, hobgoblins, stone eaters, ogres, trolls, and kinds of centaurs whose animal part was that of a tiger, winged humanoids, insectoid... Here or there, one could see demons. Summoned by Demiurge, they served as officers, punishing the stragglers, and encouraging others with lashes.
Jaldabaoth had gathered this huge army under his sole command. To rally certain tribes, the Demonic Emperor had used flattery, promises of revenge or loot... others had been threatened or coerced by force. The tribes that had dared to resist had been slaughtered, the survivors were now imprisoned and tortured to serve as an example.
Everywhere, around the main column, bands of varying numbers (from a few dozen warriors to armies of several thousand creatures) attacked isolated farms, villages, castles, and small towns.
At night, one could see hundreds of fires. The hordes burned everything in their path. Especially barns, grain silos, and fields... Demiurge/ Jadalbaoth wanted to starve the Robble Holly Kingdom... so as to make him dependent on the food aid provided by Ainz.
E-Rantel,
Ainz Ooal Gown's office was a huge room with parquet floors, waxed wooden bookcases, paintings, and sculptures along the walls.
Behind the largest desk was a monumental upholstered armchair adorned with gold - almost a throne. But it was now empty, with no occupants, since Ainz was currently in Nazarick. But the second desk, smaller, was used by Albedo.
The succubus was reading the last pages of a dossier devoted to the situation of the kingdom of Re-Estize. Their agent within the kingdom had once again proved very useful. The Third Princess Rener had convinced her brother Zanac not to risk the wrath of Jaldabaoth by receiving the envoys of the Robble Holy Kingdom who came to ask for help to fight the horde of half-humans who attacked them.
This refusal forced the Holly Kingdom to turn to the Sorcerer Kingdom for help... and Ainz immediately sent humanitarian aid in the form of food convoys. These caravans circulated on the roads of the Re-Estize Kingdom, paid customs duties, and were stored in warehouses rented to local companies...
All this was part of the 'Carrot-or-Stick' plan. The inhabitants of Re-Estize enriched themselves with humanitarian aid. The food grown in the Sorcerer Kingdom by armies of tireless undead were also sold at low prices on the markets, All of this demonstrated the benevolence of Ainz-sama and that it was profitable to get along well with Nazarick. After the Massacre at Katze Plain (the 'Stick'), the Supreme One offered the 'Carrot'.
Albedo nodded her head.
"Our influence extends day by day," she thought while signing the document she handed to a half-human maid.
The demon lady would have liked to catch a break. But three liches dressed in black robes entered the room, each carrying files as thick as dictionaries... three piles one meter high.
She sighed with discouragement... they were clearly understaffed.
The demon leaned against the back of her chair. She was about to take a few minutes off when her eyes automatically read the title of the file at the top of one of the piles: "Incident of a food convoy en route to the Holly Kingdom."
Albedo instantly forgot her fatigue and discouragement.
Nazarick, Throne Room
Ainz leaned toward the Floors Guardians. Apart from Gargantua and Victim, they were all gathered at the foot of the steps leading to his throne.
"Welcome everyone; you can raise your head."
He turned to Albedo on his knees next to his throne.
"So, Albedo... why did you call all the Guardians here?"
The succubus put a hand on her chest and bowed.
"I'm coming to that... four days ago; a supply convoy to the Holly Kingdom was stolen."
The Overlord stroked his chin.
"Oh... and by whom?"
A drop of sweat slipped on the cheek of the succubus, she was very uncomfortable... Re-Estize was under her responsibility. It was she who had negotiated the agreements, found the intermediaries, and organized the 'Carrot-or-Stick' plan for this country. This attack (which she could neither foresee nor prevent) was proof of her incompetence.
"... the Kingdom of Re-Estize."
Ainz's orbital cavities lit up with a sinister red glow but he didn't say a word, Albedo continued to speak.
"They attacked with a small troop and stole the food." (4)
Targos, Robble Holly Kingdom
Baron Marcus Aquain Breval was sitting behind his desk in the very crowded little room that served as his office.
He looked carefully at his six guests, then nodded.
"First of all, I would like to thank you for everything you have done over the past few days. Without you Targos would have taken, destroyed and its inhabitants massacred."
He opened a drawer in his desk and took out six very heavy purses.
"This bonus will not be enough to express my gratitude, but it is a good start."
Obviously, Diolaine Gisle Kure could not remain silent.
"How much is your gratitude?"
Miriel looked to heaven as Khalid Deez facepalmed.
But without appearing shocked by the question, Baron Breval replied immediately.
"250 gold coins per person."
Diolaine remained for a moment with her mouth open and then jumped on the spot, her hands clasped.
"For this price, you can even ask me to rob the Pontifex Maximus in Silksunteks..."
Since her pupils had turned into two "$" symbols, the thief probably meant what she said.
Miriel took her by the shoulder to whisper in her ear:
"Do you remember who Antilene is?"
The thief seemed to wake up from her waking dream and turned a frightened glance towards the Extra Seat of the Slane Theocracy's Black Scripture. But as usual, Antilene Hera Fouché did not hide how bored she was. Besides, she yawned without putting her hand before her mouth. Proving once again that she couldn't care less of the opinion of others, what they did, or even the simple fact that they exist...
"Uh... it was just a joke," Diolaine said with a weak voice.
Baron Breval loudly cleared his throat, ending a moment of embarrassed silence.
"No, that's not what I want to ask you..." He turned to Khalid Deez. "I wish you would go south and eliminate the orcs who control the Shelayen River Bridge. Only a small group is likely to overcome the goblin blockade."
He then turned to Miriel.
"Damsel, the images you showed in your crystal ball worry me a lot. I want to know what they're up to. The destruction of the bridge could have serious consequences."
Nervously tapping the desk's wood, the baron frowned.
"The six of you have changed the course of the battle and I know that..."
"The six of us?"
It was Antilene who had just spoken. Forgetting to feign disinterest, she clenched her fists, her face tense with anger.
Breval seemed surprised by her reaction.
"Yes... is there a problem?"
"The four of us" she gestured at Miriel, Diolaine, and Khalid, "come from Slane. Them" she pointed at Altiria and Leyen, "they are elves. Don't you know that we are at war?! I supported their presence so far because goblins were a more immediate problem. But I refuse to travel for days in their company! Whether they stay here or leave for their stinky forest, I don't care, but I refuse to spend more time with them!"
Having said what she had to say, Antilene went out and slammed the door violently enough for a painting to come off.
Khalid was the first to react.
"I'll go talk to her."
Miriel was reading a book she had taken from her inventory... and it was not easy.
It was part of the spoils of the last Dungeon she conquered, just before arriving in the New World. In OOO, even though there were 'real' books (little more than short novels of a few pages), most were just ways to learn new spells or improve your skills. 'To read' a book was to activate the object and get a bonus.
Except that the books in her inventory box were now real objects, made of leather and paper, with pages she had to turn. And to get a bonus, you had to read the whole book... and understand it.
And yes, in the real world holding a book about black holes didn't instantly turn you into an awesome astrophysicist. Not fair, is it?
Miriel finished the page she was reading, rubbed her eyes, and reflected.
What did she understand?
In fact... The teenager folded her forehead while rubbing her eyelids... she could only remember bridles of words and fragments of sentences. The text could very well have been written in Mayan or Phoenician... The half-elf was tired, frustrated and the flickering light of the candle did not help her concentrate.
If she ever came back to Earth, she wouldn't complain anymore about math classes. The theory of invocation magic was incredibly complicated and the author seemed to enjoy using the least frequent words in the dictionary and the most bombastic turns of phrase.
"Well, it's even better on the third attempt..."
The Summoner took over the book and focused on the first lines of the chapter.
Hearing a knock at the door, Miriel sighed in relief. It was a good excuse to stop the reading.
"Come in."
She turned as the door turned on its hinges and...blinked...
Altiria Siina Verteil stood on the threshold of her room. The elf priestess was dressed in a white and pink silk dress with a fine golden diadem. Her long blond-red hair was divided into two heavy braids that fell on either side of her narrow oval face
As usual, Leyden Aristeia followed her as her shadow. He was her gallant knight in shining armor... Well, actually, he was a ranger in chainmail but you understood the idea.
"May I speak to you, Lady Nimrodel?"
The half-elf blinked, losing three seconds before remembering that since traveling anonymously, she used the alias 'Nimrodel' (5) rather than 'Miriel'... because this name appeared a little too often on wanted posters.
"Please come in."
Altiria closed the door behind her, leaving Leyden to stand guard outside.
"I'm sorry," said Miriel. "There's only one chair."
Pointing to the wooden chair, the half-elf waited for her guest to take a seat before sitting on her bed. The Wizard was very intrigued. Even though they had traveled on the same ship and fought side by side, they had never really spoken.
"What can I do for you, Lady Altiria?"
Although she managed to keep a neutral expression, the priestess seemed embarrassed.
"I tried to meet Lady Antilene but... my bodyguard stopped me. Otherwise, I came to speak with you, hoping to dispel a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding?"
The elf nodded.
"I am an exile. King Decem Hougam... tried to add me to his harem. I was forced to flee. It's unfair to blame me for what happens in the Elf Country. I opposed the policy of the current king... or rather the absence of any policy worthy of the name.."
"The absence of politics... what do you mean?"
Altiria stumbled in her chair, clenching her fists.
"Decem Hougan is a capricious, decadent, arrogant, lazy, and narcissistic being..." The elf said those words in a cry of rage, emptying her heart of the helpless anger that oppressed her. It was obvious that the elf was furious. And she did not stop there. "For him, to be king is to demand a woman, a rare plant, or a treasure and to be obeyed without discussion... His policy is only a series of childish whims! And when King Decem had what he wanted, he sat on the terrace of his palace and poured himself a glass of wine, admiring his magnificent capital. What happens outside Crescent Lake doesn't interest him at all."
"Why is he still a king if he is so inept," Miriel wondered.
"He is a legitimate descendant of Linastir Hougan. And he is also the highest-level elf in the kingdom, so most of the locals bend to his whims out of fear and respect."
Miriel shook her head in disgust, divided between contempt and... pity.
"So it is enough to belong to the royal lineage and be the strongest to sit on the throne?"
Altiria nodded without a word and the Summoner insisted, believing she had misunderstood the elf's princess.
"Let's imagine that I can prove that I am a descendant of Linastir Hougan. If I beat King Decem, does that mean I could sit on the throne?"
The priestess appeared at first astonished by the question and then reflected briefly.
"Well, there has never been a half-elf king and I am sure that traditionalists would oppose a king or queen who is half-human... but in theory it is possible. The text of the law only indicates that the king will be a 'direct descendant of the royal lineage'; there is no mention that the claimant must be of purebred elf."
Miriel lost her composure. Her eyes sparkled.
"In this case, you deserve everything that happened to you, especially the invasion you are undergoing."
Altiria stepped back as she heard the resentment that made the Summoner's voice vibrate. The elf princess's face turning purple under the effect of a mixture of shame and anger, she answered almost as violently.
"But the population is innocent..."
Ruthless, the half-elf cut her off.
"No, the population is complicit. You let a tyrant do what he wants in the Elf Country and even in the neighbor's state of the Slane Theocracy because he is a 'direct descendant of the royal lineage'. Why are you surprised to be hated? Why are you surprised about being attacked? You should have eliminated this tyrant before his actions caused the ruin of your country. But instead, the elves chose to... 'respect' Decem Hougan. You do not understand? By your silence, by your acceptance, you approved the war and the abuses of the tyrant. You are his accomplices."
Miriel was disgusted. Even in another world, even among the elves, there were bullies! Tolkien must be turning in his grave! In fact, the situation was the same as in Watanabe Haruko's class... If bullies could abuse their victims it was only because the majority of students looked away, too happy that they were attacking someone else. But if, one day, Decem Hougam decided to add to his harem the wife or daughter of one of these willfully blind... well this one became a new victim of the tyrant. He would be abandoned by his old friends who looked away and walked away from him in the street... It was this cowardice, this selfishness that allowed bullies to tyrannize the weakest with impunity.
"I..." Altiria hesitated." I hadn't seen it that way. But what I was trying to say is that I'm opposed to Decem Hougan. I want to end this absurd war."
"It is pretty brave of you and very honorable," replied Miriel... anyhow there was no price to be diplomatic.
A little calmer, the elf priestess nodded.
"Could you help me? I would like you... to talk to Lady Antilene. Could you make her understand that Leyden and I are not his enemies?"
Miriel rubbed her neck in embarrassment.
"I'm afraid I don't have sufficient influence over Lady Antilene."
Altiria looked down, opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and finally said nothing. The half-elf smiled at the beautiful princess.
"Lady Altiria, I've only known Antilene for three weeks. And then... hating the elves is probably a way for her to show her love to mother. So you won't easily convince her to change her behavior..."
The sentence seemed to confuse the priestess.
"Excuse me, but I don't understand... why to hate us is a proof of love for her mother?"
"Perhaps because of their long lives, the elves do not understand that a war that has lasted for generations can change human mentalities," Miriel said, shaking her head. "Each generation has taught hatred and the desire for revenge to its children. Thus, Antilene is the daughter of a victim... In fact, one could even say that it is the result of this war..."
Or rather the cause... but it was not something to say.
Altiria seemed even more lost.
"What do you mean?"
"Antilene is a half-elf, her mother was raped by an elf... and she sees her daughter only as... well as the unwanted fruit of this rape. Nevertheless, Antilene hopes that if she avenges her mother, she will begin to love her."
This was in any case what Pierre Avice Barbet had explained to Miriel.
"Oh..."
There was a moment of silence, then Altiria changed the topic.
"What is the life of the half-elves born in the Slane theocracy?"
"Bad... but better than their elf parents. The latter are mostly female slaves raped by the 'proud and nobles' knights of the Six Religious Sects. But you should talk to Khalid, he was born in Silksuntecks."
The priestess seemed surprised.
"I thought you all came from the Slane Theocracy!"
"I live there, Lady Altiria, it's not the same as being born there. Moreover, my mother was not raped. I am just the result of a marriage of interest between two people who did not love each other, a mere byproduct of cultural conformity..."
Altiria looked strangely at Miriel, not understanding what she meant by that. But the Player shrugged. She had no desire to explain to him the 'corporate culture' of the Slavic corporates.
"I was lonely and unhappy. Nevertheless, since meeting Antilene, I have come to understand that my childhood was quite normal and that I am not to be pitied." Miriel looked at the elf priestess. "What about you? You had a happy childhood and parents who loved you?"
Altiria had a smile both tender and sad.
"Yes... but they're dead."
"Decem Hougan?"
The priestess nodded, confirming Miriel's intuition.
"Yes, my parents were executed. King Decem found them guilty of 'treason' for not handing their own daughter to his fleshly appetites."
Lying on her back with her hands crossed behind her neck, Miriel repeated in her mind the conversation she had just had with Altiria.
The Elf Country probably had the worst form of government possible, a mixture of heredity and social Darwinism.
Royalism was based on heredity. The king's eldest son became the new king at the death of his father. "The king is dead, long live the king". Thus, nothing prevented a congenital moron from drooling on the throne while he was the son of the previous king.
As for "social Darwinism" (a very inappropriate name for that matter) this form of 'government' was based on the law of the strongest. "Me having big club, me smash the old king, me new king..."
By mixing the two... one obtained Decem Hougan, a narcissistic pervert with a big club.
Suddenly an idea startled Miriel.
"But..."
Stop!
Antilene was the illegitimate daughter of Decem Hougan!
"... The text of the law only indicates that the king will be a 'direct descendant of the royal lineage'; there is no mention that the claimant must be of purebred elf."
—Altiria said that. So Antilene could inherit the throne of the Elf Country if she killed Decem Hougan.
Moreover...
Miriel sat in bed and opened her inventory to pull out a jade-blade scimitar.
The scimitar of Linastir Hougan, a weapon that could only be used by a descendant of this long-lost elf king, appeared in the legends told by the bards... Hard to find proof of Antilene's heredity that strikes more the imagination.
It was just some incredible coincidence...
Immediately, the half-elf frowned.
—if it was a coincidence.
Pierre Avice Barbet had asked Miriel to help Antilene find the scimitar, the same Bishop Barbet had explained that the Supreme Council wanted to end the war against the Elf Country to focus on the much more immediate threat posed by Jaldabaoth and Ainz Oaal Gown.
And it was again Pierre who had sent Antilene here... on board a ship that also carried Altiria Siina Verteil, an elf princess in exile.
However, Pierre worked with the Black Scripture, organizing commando operations, and espionage missions in enemy lands. Arranging such 'coincidences' was not impossible for him.
Pierre was dead. She could never ask him if that was his plan.
But...
It seemed that her real mission was to crown Antilene queen of the elves. Thanks to Altiria Siina Verteil, Antilene would probably have no problem being recognized as heiress to the throne and federating the opponents of the Elven king. She would only have to go to the palace and challenge Decem Hougan to a duel and then kill him with the Jade Scimitar. After that, who would dare challenge her legitimacy?
Only a 'tiny' problem... Antilene hated even the slightest tree leaf in the land of the elves.
Miriel dropped back on the mattress of her bed, moaning with exasperation.
"Pierre, I'm sure you're looking at me from heaven and laughing... "
Author's note: this chapter was difficult to write... and took me almost 6 days of work. I hope the result is worth it. The events you just read announce some brutal changes in the course of events.
As you may expect, Overlord's story (as you know it) is derailing.
(1) 5 golems are missing,... There are two versions of the story that explain their absence. In the anime, the creator of the golems finally got tired and the Legementon remained unfinished because of this. In the LN, the golems are made of a special material called Prismatic Ore, a rare metal that only exists in 7 mines in Yggdrasil. The other guilds of the game launched an offensive to retake the mines before Ainz Ooal Gown completed the last five golems.
(2) Indeed, in Overlord's normal timeline Ainz should already be back in the Sorcerer Kingdom after 'saving' Robble and placing at the head of the kingdom a new ruler who was 'converted' to the cult of the Supreme Beings by Neuronist Painkill (like the Eight Fingers' survivors)...
(3) It was more or less von Manstein's strategy in 1940: attract the French army to Belgium, bypass the Maginot Line, and encircle the French army to destroy it.
(4) As the most attentive will have noticed, this scene is directly inspired by the anime. For those who want to know what Ainz will decide... watch Overlord Season 4 episode 8.
(5) In Middle-Earth, an Elf of Lórien, the lover of King Amroth. She fled from Lórien when the Balrog of Moria arose. She was lost in the Ered Nimrais.