Breeding Issues

by The Ruff Pusher

Momon the Dark Hero encounters Zesshi Zetsumei. mature content/smut

8. Chapter 8

Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.

This story uses the same setting as my other story "Momon, Big Black Changeling". Essentially, Ainz Ooal Gown is the same type of creature as in that story, although this and that story happen in different worlds.

warning for tags: pregnant sex

---

The so-called Captain's eyes kept on following Ainz's figure as he paced the room, his gleaming, fiery gaze observing the captured human in turn. For the one who was known as the leader of the Black Scripture itself, it was an experience unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was as if he was staring into the incarnated image of Death itself, as if an avatar of the Gods had returned to the world to render his divine judgement. It felt as if many cold, clammy hands were pressed against his skin.

Such was the palpable pressure instigated by the awe-inspiring Ainz Ooal Gown, whose menacing aura had intimidated many before him.

For Ainz's part, he was still trying to process all the information that had been given to him. His mind was racing at the apparent hole in Nazarick's network, a gap through which their enemies might be able to exploit. And indeed, such an example of their apparent vulnerability was present before him now. Demiurge didn't seem to realize it, but here was visible proof that for all their preparations, nothing could really prepare them for the unexpected.

Had the doppelganger made a mistake somehow? Admittedly they were working on limited knowledge, even with Zesshi willingly supplying the details of her work and her former workplace. Unlike the Re-Estize Kingdom, it was harder for Nazarick to completely infiltrate the Slaine Theocracy, considering all the dangers they presented. The many Godkins present there would be more than a threat to lower-level minions, and it wasn't clear if doppelgangers would even get far. Ainz had to advice a general state of caution to prevent anyone from messing up as he had done when he had first visited the place (though in this case acquiring Zesshi Zetsumei for lover was hardly the worst outcome).

There was the slightest chance that the subordinate that Demiurge had chosen to mimic Zesshi was, for lack of a better word, incompetent. But he quickly discarded that notion, choosing to put his utmost faith in Nazarick's creations. Even if there was any indication that such a thing was true, he would not put too much stock in it and instead exhort the minion to do better next time. Such was the magnanimity a boss should display to ensure harmony within the ranks.

Another, more pertinent possibility was that the doppelganger was simply too low-leveled to matter, and that this Captain was quite a ways more powerful than any in Nazarick, even Demiurge, had anticipated. Zesshi was proof that there were remarkable humans inside the Theocracy, so it was therefore reasonable that this Captain could have detected a low-level doppelganger's attempt to deceive, particularly if advanced spells were involved. He knew that only he among Nazarick could develop a form that was impregnable to being disrupted by outside forces, and that was only because he had reached the pinnacle of Yggdrasil's levels. He could not reasonably expect lower-level doppelgangers to be as deceptive or versatile as he could be—some of them couldn't even cast spells! And Narberal Gamma was an example of a doppelganger who wasn't even good at her race's innate skill—being as her creator had only used her race to gain some stat benefits back in Yggdrasil.

Ainz soon realized that he had left things to stew in silence for a bit too long. He had to speak, or act, before Demiurge—who had kept his silence behind him—spoke up with a question or something, and perhaps undermined his authority.

"Unbind his speech," Ainz drawled, gesturing.

"Yes, my lord," Demiurge said, and snapped his fingers. The flimsy bonds fell away from the man's mouth, allowing him to speak. Ainz braced for any sudden incantations, as he had a spell-counter ready to strike. (Of course the room was already magically reinforced, but it was never wrong to be cautious) But the Captain did nothing but continue to glare at them.

"We have brought you here to answer our questions," Ainz announced, putting as much authority into his voice as he could muster. "It would be… preferable if you answered us in a quick and concise manner." The Captain's eyes hardened at that.

He cleared his throat and made a show of sweeping his arms in a slow, deliberate fashion. "First let us begin with something simple." He pointed to the prisoner. "How were you able to penetrate our servant's disguise?"

The man stared right back. He said nothing.

Ainz rubbed his chin. "What sort of spell did you use?"

Still, the man said nothing.

He mentally counted the many counter-measures he recalled in his head. "Did you use any special item? Do you still have it on you?" He recalled that Demiurge had not mentioned anything about what they discovered on the prisoner's effects. The room in which he'd been caught had been searched, and nothing interesting had turned up. Ainz would have to follow up later to see if they had missed something.

"Have you reported this discovery to anyone in your country?" Ainz asked next. "What were you hoping to achieve with this knowledge?"

The man still didn't answer his questions. Ainz frowned to himself.

Demiurge stirred beside him.

"Know your place, human," he said. Ainz knew he was about to exert his power over the Captain, which was why he threw up his hand to stop him.

"Wait." Demiurge stopped, and looked towards him inquisitively.

"My lord?"

Frankly, he was curious if the prisoner would be powerful enough to resist the compulsion that Demiurge could do. It would be a good test to see the capabilities these powerful "Godkins", who were far from ordinary humans like his friend the Emperor Jircniv. But he quickly had a second thought: that if that were the case, it would not do to reveal their hand carelessly to the prisoner. It was quite impossible for him to escape and carry knowledge of Nazarick with him to his people, but Ainz wasn't taking that chance.

Ainz approached the prisoner slowly then spread his arms wide as if in acceptance. "Please, I only want to understand you and your motivations, nothing more. If you cooperate, then I can personally guarantee that you will be taken care of in return."

The prisoner snorted, but said nothing more.

"I am not an unkind person," Ainz said. "I do not wish to inflict torture on people unless it was absolutely necessary." He looked around the dreary-looking dungeon, with its walls as cold as the inside of a freezer. "But when it becomes necessary, then I can very much assure you that it won't be just an unpleasant stay. Tell me, do you believe in hell? Because that is where you would be going. That's what happens if you should exhaust my good graces." He snapped his fingers suddenly and he was pleased to cause the man to flinch. "Now, are you going to cooperate?"

The man's silence wand steadfast demeanor told him all he needed to hear. It appeared that his overall appearance wasn't just for show—this was a bonafide "hero" that would never give up nor give in. Frankly, Ainz was impressed to see the real thing in this world; the only other person who had the same qualities was Gazef Stronoff.

"Very well," he said sighing. Demiurge stood closer to him.

"Then, shall we call in the specialists, my lord?" he said.

"No, not yet," Ainz said. A thought occurred to him. He grinned to himself. "Instead, I have a better idea."

He used Message, and then called someone he knew would have some sort of effect on the man. "It's me," he said. "Please follow the maid; I need you to come here." Then he called one of the homunculi maids, and said, "Please bring Zesshi with you to the Fifth Floor. At the dungeons."

The man's eyes narrowed at this exchange. He saw something shift in his eyes when he heard the name 'Zesshi'. Good. That was a good reaction.

"Please wait for a bit," Ainz said, moving backward so he was closer to the door. Demiurge remained where he was, slightly screening him from view, his gaze remained fixated on the prisoner. Apparently, the devil had also realized what Ainz was planning.

"Demiurge," he said. "I shall rely on you to protect your charge no matter what happens. You are responsible for safety, am I clear?" It was always dangerous to take his lovers anywhere but the safety zone he had erected in the last floor, the most guarded parts of Nazarick. Their pregnancies had to be protected at all costs, so he hoped that Demiurge would take those feelings to heart when Zesshi came to confront this prisoner.

"I am your humble servant," Demiurge replied. Ainz hoped he understood his meaning. Demiurge then spoke, addressing the prisoner directly. "You see, my mortal friend, I too am devoted to my masters. I am prepared to do all that is within my power to give my lord all that he deserves. And right now, should he wish it, the hell he promised you for your impudence is within my power to grant. So keep that in your consideration."

The prisoner looked angrily from Demiurge to him, and back again. Still, he said nothing.

Eventually, after some minutes of silence, he heard footsteps echoing from beyond the door. Ainz was surprised to find that he could "smell" her coming, weirdly enough, even when he couldn't even see her. Though perhaps he was only imagining it—he could have just sensed her with his ultra-powered senses, a quirk of his doppelganger capabilities.

He recalled the last time he'd seen her, which was just this morning, when he'd left her with Albedo. She must be a bit displeased to have been left so abruptly like that, particularly when it was her "turn" on his lap, so to speak. Clementine ended up taking that privilege for the rest of the day. He hoped she wouldn't be in a sort of mood when she arrived.

"Ainz-sama, I have brought her." The maid knocked on the door. He turned around to completely obscure the door, then opened it.

"Send her on in. Wait outside," he told the maid.

"I'm coming in~" came Zesshi's singsong voice. Ainz stood aside from the doorway and she waddled on inside, her great belly and swollen breasts swaying with her every step. Ainz marveled at the changes in her body once more; at the great changes she underwent as her pregnancy progressed to its later stages. One would have never expected the woman who had ambushed him on that temple long ago to be so fattened with child and looking just like this, but there it was. Zesshi Zetsumei exuded a ripened, matronly glow, despite still carrying on in a coquettish manner.

"Ainz-sama," she greeted, curtsying, then offering her cheek to him silently. It was a very cheeky move, but he couldn't say no to indulging any of his lovers. He leaned down to plant the requested kiss, straight on the lips, which made the half-elf's cheeks flush a deep red.

"Why have you asked me to come here?" she said, raising a brow and looking around. "This doesn't really look like a place to—"She abruptly stopped, her gaze zeroing in on the prisoner, restrained there beyond the smiling Demiurge in the far corner of the room. "My."

The man had similarly caught sight of her, and as Ainz had expected, fully recognized her despite the very obvious changes in her body. The eyes bulging, the mouth wide open, the faint croaks coming from within, all of it added up to a slack-jawed expression that could not be anything else than surprise.

"Zesshi Zetsumei…" he said, those words being the very first he had ever uttered here in Nazarick. "… Is that… Is that really you?"

For a few moments, Ainz watched as the man appraised Zesshi, looking her up and down, perhaps noting every last detail of her changes. How different she must have looked, compared to the woman he had been observing in secret for many weeks past! It was surely as surprising as when Blue Rose caught sight of a very pregnant Keeno, except this time the man was a very clear enemy. Gone was perhaps the dignified warrior he remembered, the comrade he knew. His intense scrutiny would have perhaps verged on the perverse, but Ainz could tell from experience that this was not desire but abject surprise—and perhaps just a bit of fear. The last bit made him curious, so he filed that away.

Zesshi's demeanor, in turn, had changed from her usual playful self, to something he rarely saw. He knew her long enough to guess that this was a particular "mood" she was in; a cold, canny mask that she wore when she didn't feel like being playful. Most of the time, she put on this façade whenever she spoke to Albedo at his office. He recognized it as a sort of symptom of her so-called rivalry with the Overseer, a state of affairs for which he still had no solution. Thus he could only look on as the two almost came to blows, and time after time he'd have to rein them back with a reprimand. It was interesting to see Zesshi act this way now, which indicated that the prisoner was at least no friend for whom she would feel any sympathy.

The prisoner coughed. "So… It finally happened," were the words he said next.

Ainz didn't say anything, and neither did Demiurge. For himself, Ainz was perplexed at what the man was alluding to.

Zesshi stepped forward, her body swaying as it did so, while she consciously kept close to Ainz. She cocked her head and looked down at the man with a humorless grin on her face.

"What do you mean by that…" she paused. "… Captain?"

The man glared, and for the first time since Ainz arrived he stirred in his binds. It was as if he was trying to escape. That would be an impossibility, though Ainz did do a quick scan of the magics on him to make sure.

"You know damned well what I mean," the prisoner said. He looked pointedly at her pregnant belly.

She chuckled and said nothing, but she did place a loving hand on the top of her belly. Ainz could see a hint of her usual mocking manners there, though it was not the pleasant kind he was used to in their trysts. It was prickly and oppressive, exactly the same face one would wear against a troublesome enemy.

So she did know him. Well, that was a given, but it was clear from just this brief exchange that they were more than just passive acquaintances. Now he hoped this interaction would yield even more information that Nazarick could use.

The prisoner presently sagged in his binds, his expression turning sour, yet never losing its disbelief. "Don't play the fool," he said, a bit angrily. "I will assume that is not a trick of some sort."

"You would be assuming correctly," Zesshi said, raising her head to look down on him haughtily.

"Then, does that mean…" The man's eyes narrowed. "That you found 'the one'? The only one who would be stronger than you… The one who would best you? You?"

Zesshi snorted. "Well, I think that should be fairly obvious to anyone with a working brain," she said. "Or is there another way for a grown woman to suddenly, inexplicably find herself fat with child? Tell me, oh captain, does such a possibility actually exist?"

"Don't mock me," the captain snapped. "You should not dare to belittle me, even if I'm in this state, Zesshi Zetsumei. For with how much you have fallen to darkness, it would not surprise me if some base trickery was involved. You do not seem brainwashed, but there are other ways to force compliance, as you well know."

Now Ainz was definitely interested with the implications of his words. But he shelved those thoughts away as he allowed Zesshi to control the flow of the conversation.

"Yes, indeed, I have been brainwashed," Zesshi said, preening her body while she chuckled. "And if you say that love is the strongest spell that any being could marshal, then again and again I would agree with them, to the utmost! This is not something you will ever understand, my dear captain. Not now, when you are bound here like this." She smiled and turned to face Ainz.

"Wait, answer me this," the prisoner said. "Tell me, who is the father?"

Zesshi didn't respond. But it was clear to Ainz what she was going for, as she suddenly sidled up close to his side. She hooked her arms around his and nuzzled close to him. "You know my lord as many names. But there is only ever one name that is needed to describe his majesty in such a decisive, succinct manner. He is Ainz Ooal Gown."

"Ainz Ooal Gown?" the man spluttered, looking from her to him. He narrowed his eyes at him. "So… the Sunlight…"

Ainz stirred. "Hm?"

The man pursed his lips and said, "… So you have indeed fallen to darkness, Zesshi Zetsumei. You have the prerogative of claiming otherwise, but it is clear even to the blind that you have fallen, and you have fallen very far indeed."

"Hold," Ainz said. He wouldn't let the man go now that he'd gotten something from him. "You mentioned something just now… About the Sunlight Scripture?"

The man said nothing, but it was clear he had hit upon something, as the man's eyes looked furtive and shifty.

"I don't believe I mentioned this, my love," Zesshi said. "But we have received the reports from the field long ago of the Sunlight Scripture meeting its end at the hands of someone called 'Ainz Ooal Gown'. That was before you revealed your glory to the world, of course, when all we knew about you was a priority alert to mark this territory as dangerous."

"Ah, so you do know me, then," Ainz said, looking smugly at the man. "I thank you for undermining his feeble attempts at subterfuge."

"It is a wife's duty to do anything for her husband," Zesshi said, fluttering her eyelids.

The prisoner clicked his tongue. "Bastard. What did you do to the Sunlight Scripture? Have you captured them?"

"I believe you have the order reversed here," Ainz said coldly. "It is I who will ask the questions, and it is your duty to answer as best you can."

"You will try, but you won't succeed. So why don't you bring out your implements of torture? Try me, you evil bastard! You will not break me. You will never break me!"

"Have no fear," Ainz said smugly. "I am sure Zesshi here will be all to glad to assist with my questions."

"I am at your humble service, my lord," Zesshi said, the playful expression returning to her face—though now tinged with a malicious gleam in her eye. Whatever their former relationship was before as comrades, Zesshi seemed all too eager to undermine the prisoner, as if she had some deep-seated grudge that needed to be sated.

"I will ask again—how did you come to discover Zesshi had been replaced by a doppelganger?" Ainz asked.

"What's this?" Zesshi said curiously, looking from him to the prisoner. Ainz hesitated, but decided it would be fine to share some of the details regarding this situation.

"For the past few weeks, we had detected the presence of someone observing your replacement mimic from afar." He stopped himself from mentioning the fact that the minions had thus far been unable to identify his presence and location, and that Ainz had been on the verge of doing it himself. "We were… understandably concerned, but since nothing had happened yet, we let it be."

"And let me guess, at the end of the road, you found him." Zesshi sneered at the prisoner. "Why Captain, I didn't know you had it in you! I would have never expected you to be some sort of voyeur."

"That's not what I was doing!" The man said hotly.

Zesshi laughed and asked, "Tell me, my lord, was this man observing my replacement at all times?"

Ainz looked towards Demiurge. The smiling devil nodded. "The reports indicate that, barring a few irregular hours here and there, this one's surveillance was indeed long and persistent. Though there were a few missed days, but that can be attributed to it perhaps needing to perform its other functions as 'captain', if indeed it holds that position among their ranks."

"No way," Zesshi said. "So you could've been watching 'me' while I bathed?" She snickered. "If you wanted me so much, then you should've challenged me long before, captain. Who knows, maybe you could've won."

"Even if I had that power, I wouldn't even dream of using my privilege to catch someone like you," the man said. Zesshi's eyes flashed, and before she could utter a retort, Ainz stepped forward.

"Be silent about things you do not know, fool," he said in a thundering voice. "Indeed, it is truly a pity you were not strong enough to win this beautiful woman to yourself."

"Ainz-sama…" Zesshi said, breathlessly.

He smiled and cupped her chin briefly. "The Slaine Theocracy will perhaps live long enough to regret the day they allowed me to win this woman over, and bind her love and loyalty to me forevermore." He turned back to the prisoner. "Now, tell me, are you such a perverted cur as to have been keeping an eye on Zesshi for a long time?"

"Why the hell would I be some sort of voyeur?" the prisoner snapped. "For her?"

Zesshi sighed, but she said nothing to the implied insult. Ainz was angry for her, but he let that slide for now. "Then, Captain, We will believe you. But if that were so, then why would you then start observing our pawn since then? Zesshi has been very generous with gifting us freely with information about the Theocracy. In fact, it might be true to say that we know everything she knows. So our mimic was surely impeccable. So what made you curious enough to begin observing her from afar?"

For the first time, the man smiled with a hint of superiority. "I will never tell you anything, evil filth. Your failures are your own to examine. Know that nothing can ever fool the eyes of one who is blessed by the Light of—"

He was interrupted by a long, moaning sigh. Ainz turned curiously to Zesshi, who was now rubbing her fingers on her forehead.

"Oh Ainz-sama… Ainz-sama…" she bowed to him. "Let me apologize profusely for this. Please do not be too angry at your poor wife for my mistake. I will do anything to make up for it. Please."

"Mistake?" Ainz echoed. "What are you talking about? Raise your head, Zesshi, please."

She did so, and he could see that she now looked sad and red-faced, like she was very embarrassed. Her mismatched eyes spoke of some great guilt. She fiddled with the front of her dress, which caused creases to appear on her great distended belly repeatedly.

"I think I know why this dunderhead got suspicious," she said. "And it's all my fault."

---

Months earlier, after the mysterious temple siege that left more questions than answers, Zesshi was pacing the corridors of one of the great offices of the capital.

"How are you feeling?" came a voice from the far end of the corridor. Zesshi didn't stop, and merely continued to walk along and hum to herself, as if oblivious to the other one's presence.

The Captain of the Black Scripture walked into view, his expression somber. He was clad in his resplendent armor, powerful artifacts from a distant, glorious time. He rubbed his chin as he observed Zesshi's behavior.

"I heard the news," he said. "Censured, and forced into the Flurry Scripture to do simple work. Work far beneath your station. At any other time, you would have chafed against it, and yet…" He narrowed his eyes at Zesshi, who turned to him with raised eyebrow. "And yet now it seems as if it doesn't matter to you."

"And why have you come here, oh captain?" Zesshi asked, rolling her brows. "Come to gloat? Or have they sent you to interrogate me and see if I can tell you what they think I'm holding back?"

For a while he did not speak. "What did happen back there in the temple?" the captain then asked. "You know why they refuse to believe your account. Everything you said is frankly impossible. And also, if it really was some sort of enemy that could match you, then it's all the more reason to share what you know. This could be a threat to humankind! Don't you see that?"

"That… thing…" Zesshi smiled, as if she was recalling a fond memory. The man shuddered, having only ever seen a smile on her face when she was facing a difficult opponent to crush. "I can handle them just fine. You don't need to worry about them."

The captain scowled. "That doesn't make sense. Unless… you're lying about what happened." He narrowed his eyes. "Was it perhaps some sort of prank you were playing?"

"No," Zesshi said in a singsong voice. "And I would never admit to it no matter how many times I'm asked." She crossed her arms. "And you can stop asking me repeatedly about my business. I've already given the cardinals all I know. I'm already about to do whatever punishment they ask. So unless you're carrying some other punishment for me, then get out of my face."

She turned around and walked away. Well, she tried to. Currently, the endless hours of sex had taken a toll on her, despite the fact that she possessed the body of what one might rightfully call a demigod. But her partner had been what one might call a god in his own right, and so Zesshi limped away, her hips aching and sore. For Zesshi, it was a pleasant type of pain, as it reminded her of the precious memories she had shared with that mysterious person at the temple. Despite the pain, though, she was able to maintain her poise and walked without difficulty, betraying nothing of the truth to anyone who might be watching her.

Or so she assumed.

Behind her, the Captain watched her go, with cold, analytic eyes.

---

"…. As the man himself claims, he is rather observant," Zesshi presently said, after explaining outlining the events of her memory to Ainz. "It is… not out of the question if he had guessed something was wrong with my body. That I was hiding something from everyone—which was the truth, of course. Come to think of it, why were you the only one tasked to watch me? You're not exactly the type specialized in long-distance divination." Ainz knew that some other member of the Scripture was more suited for that thing.

"I wasn't told by anyone," the prisoner said angrily. "I investigated you on my own time—oh shit!"

Even Ainz smiled, sharing in Zesshi's silent glee as she glanced towards him with a triumphant look on her face. The little slip of the tongue had cost the prisoner a whole lot. Now they knew an important part of the puzzle—the Theocracy hadn't known, nor even suspected a change in Zesshi Zetsumei.

"Hah! I know what you're thinking, but you assume wrongly! I've already told all who need to know. They may not be acting now, but you can be rest assured they are already aware of your deception! Retribution is fast approaching!"

Ainz could admit that that was a distinct possibility. In fact, that was why he had ordered the Zesshi doppelganger to stay put while a strong guard was maintained. If the Theocracy meant to act, then it would be soon. And Nazarick would be ready.

However, Zesshi had a ready retort to that claim. "If you really did tell them, then I can assure you, my lord, that their retribution would be indeed swift. So swift in fact that it would not have taken weeks or even days for them to act."

"How would you—"

Zesshi made a cutting gesture, to quell his interjection. "Silence. Let us say you only just told them today, just an hour before you were taken. My lord, has there been an attack on your minion?"

"None," Ainz said confidently, glancing quickly towards Demiurge. If there had been an attack, Demiurge would have been informed already.

"You see?" Zesshi said, with a supreme shrug. "I have been living in the Theocracy for as long as you have, my good Captain. I know how things work. Your feeble attempts at a bluff are quite laughable. You would have been far better served keeping your precious silence. Perhaps you would not have failed as you have done, so spectacularly."

Ainz stepped forward. "Thank you for your help, Zesshi."

She giggled as he patted her head. "Anything for you, my love."

He laid his hand over her shoulders, and made as if to usher her aside. He addressed the prisoner directly. "I do not think you have anything else to offer. So I will leave you to answer my subordinates' questions instead. As I said before, they will be hell compared to what you're experiencing today. But I did warn you. I am merciful. But only to an extent."

"Wait!" The prisoner called. Ainz paused. Had he—? "Zesshi Zetsumei!" Never mind, he thought.

"Hm?"

"Please, you have to wake up! You have to snap out of this! It's not too late!"

Zesshi raised a brow. "As I said before, I am under no other powerful spell than the one everyone knows as love, you pathetic fool. And there is no dispelling this particular enchantment, not even in death."

The prisoner sighed, sagging in his binds. "Look, I don't know if anything I can say to you will matter now." He glared at Ainz for a brief second before returning his attention to her. "But I am… happy for you. At the very least you finally found someone you want to be with. Someone stronger than you, aye?

"The very fact that you found someone stronger than you to… have kids with—It frightens me that someone like that exists in this world. But honestly, I thought your words merely a jest. No matter." He sighed. "I… I will perhaps die here, if you will not aid me, but my loyalty to my country will remain unblemished. Do as you like, but nothing shall pass these lips. But Zesshi… It is a pity. A great pity that you've fallen. This may perhaps be the Theocracy's… No, humanity's darkest day. That you would willingly throw your lot in with humanity's avowed foes—I deeply regret how nothing in our country inspired your loyalty."

"My dear Captain," Zesshi said, shaking her head. "You delude yourself in thinking that you know me. If you indeed knew me, then you would have known that I was looking for nothing more than the best, and that the affairs of the Theocracy or of anything else bored me to tears. It bored me as a child, and it bored me even now. That is who I am. You think I should be grateful to the Theocracy? For what, raising me? Turning me into a weapon to use against its enemies? Well, I was grateful. I served my time. I did my duties. And now the Theocracy turned out to be nothing more than a stepping stone to fulfilling my heart's desire. It is as simple as that, captain."

"I just… I just don't get it!" the man exclaimed. Ainz felt his attention turn to him. "There's just now way he's the father! It's just impossible! The lord of undead? Surely you jest. A dark ritual perhaps? Are those babies a perversion of natural—"

He patted Zesshi on the back, feeling her body trembling, her face contorting with rage. He turned back to face the man fully, then took off his mask. The undead face greeted the man, then, after a second, it morphed—into the face of an orc. Before the man's disbelieving eyes, he changed his head through a variety of demihumans and heteromorphs, before finally settling down on human: the face of Momon, though he wasn't sure if he knew about his appearance personally.

"I know, I know, just changing the face wouldn't really matter, would it?" Ainz said, chuckling to himself. "I would show you my genitals changing as well, but you're… certainly not my type." He laughed at his own joke.

Zesshi in the meanwhile could not restrain her anger any longer. She rushed out from his gentle grip, and slammed her palm into the air. A wave of invisible pressure shot forward, crashing into the bound prisoner and sending him reeling backward. He grunted in pain.

"If you ever… say that to my face again…" she said, through gritted teeth. "If you ever… insult my…our children again… I will rip your throat out and feed it to you while keeping you alive. I will make you eat every last part of your body until only your stomach is left. Then I will keep you alive, even as just your guts in a small little bottle! You'll be just an example to my children, and my children's children, of anyone who dares insult me!"

"Zesshi, that's enough," Ainz said softly. "I don't think he'll be insulting anyone… Not anymore." The words were said with ominous finality, such that Demiurge nodded his head in understanding.

"Ainz Oaal Gown.." the prisoner said, coughing painfully. It was rather ironic that he was spewing out his words now, when earlier he had been quite reluctant to even breathe. "I read the reports… the Katze massacre… They speculate a lot, but it got me thinking… Are you…" He opened his eyes and looked at Ainz straight on. "Are you a Player?"

Ainz paused. "I do not need to answer you," he said coldly, and ushered Zesshi away.

"I see…" the man whispered, perhaps the last thing Ainz heard from him.

Demiurge followed them out of the door. Ainz took him aside for a quick debrief.

"Masterfully done, my lord," Demiurge said. "You handled him like clay putty. As expected of Ainz-sama. And I do much appreciate your personal handling of the initial interrogation. It will certainly help our specialists."

"For all his faults, he is a person of interest. Perhaps we should find a way to acquire his loyalty first, and see if it sticks," said Ainz.

Demiurge's brows shot up in surprise. "You do not wish us to interrogate him, my lord?"

"He will be giving us his information freely if he serves," Ainz said. "But that depends on if we can manage to bind him without difficulty. Do you think it can be done?"

Demiurge's expression did not change, but it was clear that he was doing some quick thinking to himself. "It would be… It would take some preparation, my lord."

Ainz nodded. "Good. I knew I could rely on you, Demiurge."

The devil bowed. "You flatter me, my lord. I know full well my intellect is far dwarfed by yours. But I shall accept the compliment, with my full thanks."

"I shall leave the prisoner to you, then," he said, turning away. He stepped towards Zesshi, who seemed to be bouncing on her feet with excitement. "Shall we go?"

"Yes!"

---

They went back to the top floor in relative silence. It appeared that even the normally exuberant Zesshi had something to think about from what had just happened. He let her be, and instead focused on his own thoughts.

He had to admit that talking to that prisoner had somehow inexplicably awakened memories of his own first time with Zesshi, on that ill-fated expedition into the temple's vaults. If he hadn't met her on that day, none of this would have happened. His eyes would have still remained closed as he pushed aside all attempts to seduce him. He would remain resolutely focused on expanding Ainz Ooal Gown's fame to the outside world, all in the hopes that his friends were out there somewhere.

And perhaps he would not have attained this small happiness that being a father had granted him.

In a way, he was grateful to Zesshi for forcing his hand. He had opened his mind to new avenues forward, a new path for Nazarick's future. It had also gifted him with a deeper appreciation for the fairer sex, along with the skills to please them during their most intimate moments.

Zesshi had also been the one to make him a father of many. While he still wasn't sure if he was fit to actually be a father, this new experience was a challenge in its own right, and one he was definitely ready to tackle head on as Ainz Ooal Gown.

When they were halfway close to the mother's hall, Zesshi cocked her head at him and asked, "What's wrong, Ainz-sama? What… Why are you just staring at me like that?"

Ainz blinked. "Oh. Was I?" He didn't even realize he had been staring at her. He'd been so cooped up in his thoughts. Though it was no surprise that she had been the one his subconscious mind had latched on.

"Well, you are beautiful." She blushed. "And am I not permitted to stare?"

With face still red, Zesshi preened and made several cute gestures. "I don't mind it. You can stare for as much as you want."

Ainz continued to stare at her in silence. Then he reached out a hand to pat her on the head. She made a small yelping sound, but let him run his fingers through her hair. He marveled at the way they felt, so smooth and silky; how they looked so glossy under the light, even when they sported such an unusual arrangement of colors—black, then white.

"Ainz-sama…"

He looked down and noticed the naked bulge of her abdomen. He laid a hand on top of that place next, and felt the soft, welcoming warmth of a body that was literally raising his children inside it. He was then surprised to feel a sudden kick, and for a moment he let his hand drop.

"Whoa."

"Ah." Zesshi giggled. She guided his hand back to rest on top of her belly. "It seems one of them recognized their daddy. I'm sure they'll be growing up to be healthy and strong."

"Yeah…" Ainz said, slightly breathless. He felt them moving around inside. For a moment he wondered if their being so active like this would put a greater strain on Zesshi's body. He felt compelled to ask. "Are you… sure you're alright? I know you say it's fine, but I'm just wondering if I could do things to make it easier for you."

"It's been about six months that I've been carrying them, so they've been growing a little more active than before. But it's nothing to me, my lord. If there is even a slight pain, then it's something I'm willing to bear. I'm happy for them, and I'm proud and ready to bring them into this world." She giggled. "In fact, I'm actually excited. I can't wait to hold the three of them in my arms."

Ainz admitted to himself that he also felt a little excited at the prospect, at holding the children born from him. The prospect of fatherhood was thrilling, quite unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

"Have you thought of any names for them?" he blurted out quite suddenly. He cringed, almost regretting saying it immediately. Zesshi's dazzling smile and the blush on her face relieved him of the embarrassment.

"Truth be told, I've been rather distracted a lot. From all the things in the tomb—" she hesitated and winked at him saucily. "—And all the loving we've been having, of course. But I was thinking of waiting for you, Ainz-sama."

"Me?"

She clasped the hand on her belly. "Well of course! This is a joint 'quest' after all, my love. And we must share the responsibility of naming our triplets."

"Right…" he said, a little breathless. "…You're absolutely right."

There were many names he liked in his head, and the sheer mass of them made him dizzy from all the possibilities. In the end, there really was only one reasonable answer to that.

"Well, truth be told, I've also been distracted with work. But something like this may be just as important. Why don't we set a date for it, later on?" And perhaps he should schedule it with the rest of his lovers as well.

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Zesshi gushed. Ainz felt a tingling sensation shoot through him, and it felt very much pleasant. "I'd love for us to be able to name all our kids, not just these triplets, Ainz-sama!"

Ainz chuckled. "All of them? Just how many do you want, Zesshi?"

"A hundred of them!" she said, without hesitation. "No, more! Two hundred!"

"A hundred… Two hundred?" Ainz said, slightly taken aback. That seemed a tall order, even for him. Would that even be possible for her body? He had half a mind to refuse, if only because such an idea seemed quite impossible just on the surface. But he didn't have the heart to say it to her face, so he simply smiled and nodded silently.

"That's what I wish for anyway," Zesshi said, as if she was reading his thoughts exactly just then. "But, at the moment, I'm really supposed to focus on these triplets for now, if it pleases you Ainz-sama."

Ainz sighed. He looked down and caught sight of her body—more specifically her large, udder-like breasts. It was hard not to miss them—aside from her belly, that pair moved and undulated obnoxiously with her every step.

Zesshi didn't miss his wandering eyes, and instantly grabbed his hand to lay it on her boobs. She sidled up close to him, with hooded eyes and spoke in a husky voice, "Ainz-sama, are you busy right now? Your cute little wifey wants a little… reward for her help down there with the captain."

"Oh, um…" He hesitated. Truthfully, there was no work, and he was thinking of resting anyway. He was even thinking of getting his sexual relief, but he just hadn't decided who he should visit. Today was supposed to be a work day set aside to monitor Zesshi's doppelganger, which meant that there were no scheduled orgies as well.

Seeing his hesitation, Zesshi pouted and pressed her engorged front against his, stimulating him to a partial arousal. "Come on, Ainz-sama~ Don't you remember this morning? I wasn't able to sit at your lap for the time I wanted, when that Clementine came in! And then you went off to have sex with her somewhere!"

"I did not," Ainz said, recalling his strange interlude with Clementine at that cemetery. "Well, we were just talking. Just… talking."

"Uhuh. And what, pray tell, did that talk involve that left Clementine in such a great mood? It's unbelievable! You should've seen her face, Ainz-sama! That was a face of a maiden in love."

"Oh?" Had something happened with Clementine back then? It had all seemed so normal somehow…

"Well enough about her. If really didn't do it with her, then surely you're up for it right?" she asked. "And I know no one's scheduled today."

"That may be true…" Ainz hedged. He took a breath and nodded. "Alright. Fine." He gripped her by the shoulder. "Let's head to your room then."

"Ainz-sama…" He kissed her with great passion, then carried her over to her chambers. Thankfully, he met no one else as he went, which would have complicated things. As it was, he was already very horny when at last they came to her bed. As she lay there, presenting herself, he wasted no time discarding his clothes. He jumped onto the bed eagerly and began indulging in his pregnant lover.

He took a while to admire her naked body. He moved his hands boldly all over her body, then began to massage her thick, swollen breasts, which hung heavy and laden with all the milk that would be needed to feed their triplets. They felt soft and pillow-like, a far cry from the pert boobs of their first time together, though in this case they didn't sag but remained somewhat upright despite gravity trying to pull them down. Her nipples, once a beautiful pink, had darkened in shade. They also continued to leak milk, and he rolled the liquid between his fingers to smear all over her boobs. Her distended belly, the more eminent proof of her pregnancy, hung low and pressed directly against his skin, and he could almost feel his children on the other side. He apologized to them in his heart, as he always did to the unborn babes of his other lovers. He just couldn't help but indulge in his lovers and their wonderful bodies.

They made love with their mouths first, their tongues flicking against each other eagerly. As he explored Zesshi's mouth with loud, wet smacks, his hands continued to caress her twin fruits, fondling and squeezing. Then he began to flick her nipples, pleasuring them separately and together and enticing her to lactate even more. She moaned approvingly in response, her tongue quick to wrap around his in a loving manner as their kiss became a bit more sloppy and wet. He patted her belly, feeling it shudder beneath his warm touch.

"Ainz-sama, oh Ainz-sama…" She started moving impatiently, causing her skin to jiggle. She attempted to slide her hand in between them to get at his cock, but she was stopped short by her own pregnant bulge.

"Don't get too excited," he urged. "Think of the babies… Just leave it to me…"

His head dipped into the space between her mountains and licked all over it. He kissed and nipped the skin, moving right to the tip of her breasts, then back down in a U shape towards her other breast. He placed his mouth firmly over each areola as he ascended, and was pleasantly rewarded with a fresh batch of milk to taste and savor.

He began cupping his hand over her pussy entrance. She was noticeably wet, as a layer of wet coating now glistened over her lips. She groaned as his finger grazed her clit. He began to stimulate her below with his fingers as he continued to suckle on her breasts.

"Let's begin," he said, and he moved them both into position. With her greater weight, he was able to mount him and plunge his cock into her insides without much difficulty, allowing gravity to fill in the rest. It didn't take long for her to start moving, sliding up and down his body. Predictably she was still as tight and hot as before her pregnancy. It seemed as if all his lovers had bodies that were geared for sex, and Zesshi, a "Godkin" was no exception.

He felt her juices trickling over their joined genitals as she continued to rock in place. In order to help her, he transformed part of his body to be a little bit soft and downy, like he was a bed. This allowed her to get a little more bounce on top of him with little difficulty, and kept her body relatively safe as he held her hips in place with his hands. He cupped her breasts, which rolled and heaved with her every frantic movement.

He dug his heels into the bed and began to piston into her, his cock finding every known pleasure spot in her insides. Zesshi bit her lip and offered a groan to the ceiling as jolts of pleasure coursed through her; she consequently coiled her folds tight around him, slowly but surely urging him to cum. Her pregnant belly pressed down hard on his body with his every upward thrust.

Their breathing became loud and heavy, as their slow, sensual lovemaking slowly upped in rhythm and intensity. Now she was moving faster, and he was thrusting with a little more force. The constant thwap! thwap! sound of their bodies mashing together filled the room, interspersed with her gasping and moaning. Their sex had become pure fucking, primal and raw. Sweat dripped from her wildly swinging boobs, from her mismatched hair, from her face. They were firmly locked in the mating rhythm.

He came then; her pussy folds successfully extracting the cum from his cock. She squealed, her body shaking at the same time. The cum splashing inside her had wrought the intended effect and made her climax into a shuddering pile.

Her sweaty body collapsed on top of him, and it felt warm and cozy with her on top of him, allowing him to finish up his ejaculation inside her. As she whined with eyes closed, he continued to chew and suckle on her nips, as if he was her own baby greedily taking his fill. She shuddered as he moved from breast to breast, the stinging sensation of his teeth nipping at her boobs sending tingles up her spine. Finally, when their climaxes wound down they used the time to lazily kiss each other, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"I love you, I love you Ainz-sama…!" she whispered, her breath hot against his.

"Mmm…" He embraced her fully with his arms. "You are mine," he said.

"Yes… I am…"

"You are mine and no one else's…"

"This womb is only for yours to take…"

Once again he was taken to that far off day inside the temple, when he had lost his virginity to this smiling half-elf after a brief skirmish. Of all the events he had not anticipated, that had been most remarkable. Were it not for that, he would not be making love to this sweet, beautiful woman in his arms, would not be able to hold her, and all the rest of them so close like this.

"Ainz-sama…" She could tell he wanted more—from the cock jutting through her pussy like an embedded sword, and the way his hands traveled all over her body. She snuggled close to him. "Love me as you wish. I leave myself in your hands. Please find the comfort you need in my arms."

He moved her onto her back, carefully rolling over until she was lying with legs half dangling off the side of the bed. Then he kneeled in between her thighs and pushed his face against her entrance. He began cleaning out her moist entrance, using his tongue to assault his clit with ferocity.

"Oh… Ohhh… Ohhhh… Ainz-sama…!" He could see her toes clench, her pussy quivering from the pleasure he constantly gave. Her thighs closed around his face with such force that he could believe them crushing actual boulders between them, but for him it was just a tender squeeze. All he could see over the mountainous swell of her stomach was the top of her hair. It felt rather exciting to punish her swollen pussy with his mouth and his fingers while he imagined all the desperate faces she made as she tried to resist the pleasure; imagined her also not being able to see past her enormous jugs and her pregnant belly, her pussy completely exposed to attack. And attack he did, again and again, until she came, splattering him with her love juices.

He began to kiss all over thighs and her navel as her orgasm burned on, waiting for her to at least come back to earth. He reached out and grasped her hand, and she squeezed back tight with a grip that could have crushed forged steel. He then rose, and locked his gaze with her lovestruck eyes. He leaned down to scoop her body up, carrying her back onto the center of the bed.

"Please hold on Ainz-sama…" she said. "Can you… carry me?"

"Of course." Why would that be phrased as a question? He would do anything she requested, within reason. He lifted her up off the bed effortlessly, then turned her around until her lovely back was pressed against his chest. He grew a second pair of arms, which took charge of keeping her thighs up and spread, her legs dangling in the air, while his other pair of arms squeezed and massaged her boobs. She threw her arms back and clasped her hands behind his nape. She turned her head and accepted his kiss, as he probed her mouth with his tongue.

"Then, please…" she gasped, in between kisses. "While you're fucking me… carry me around if you could…"

"As you wish, my lady."

He sank his rock-hard shaft back inside her wet, sopping entrance, felt her folds once again squelch around his length. Then his lower arms began pumping her in and out, facilitating her downward movement while his hips complimented them with upward thrusts. She hissed and moaned into his mouth as he began to walk around the room, literally parading her around while he was deeply buried to the hilt inside her greedy cunt. Soon, he was pounding hard into her, though just enough not to overly disturb the babes.

His lovers had their preferences. Shalltear liked to be literally beaten, Calca preferred to be bound most times, and Neia liked to be licked all over her body. Even Keeno, who often disliked being roped into the others' debaucheries, had her own secret desire to be completely buried beneath his body and fucked hard and senseless into the mattress for hours on end.

Zesshi, his oldest lover, liked to be creampied the most; desired the feeling of being inseminated again and again, even if she was pregnant. But she had other desires similar to that. Ainz recalled the many times he had to transform into some villainous demihuman, and role play as a conquering demon lord. She liked to be treated as some fallen hero, a woman who had been ably defeated by a superior foe. In this case, in this very moment, she was like someone being paraded around, impaled on her conqueror's cock while screaming loudly for him to fuck her raw and hard.

He bit into her neck, repeatedly leaving love bites on her pale, unblemished skin. Her swollen breasts heaved wildly like ripe fruits stirred up by a storm, with milk leaking out from the tips of her nipples to stream all over the smooth swell of her belly. Isolated strands of black and white hair were matted in clumps on her sweaty face, on her forehead, her chin, her nape, her shoulders. When he kissed her their lips tasted of the salt of sweat. The rich intoxicating musk of their lovemaking filled the air, accompanied by the plaintive, insistent cries of her passion. As their groins mashed together in blissful abandon, the room echoed with the lewd slap! slap! of flesh against flesh. She thrust back against him so hungrily, so wantonly that it took a lot of effort to remain standing.

They walked in front of her vanity and he paused to allow them to behold their reflections on the small mirror. There was Zesshi, with a sex-crazed look on her face, and him behind her, nipping at her earlobes. There was their joined sexes down below, his cock relentlessly hammering up into her pussy, her juices spraying down to wet his feet and the carpet below. It was a scene he would never forget, of his very heavily pregnant lover being manhandled so easily in his hands, a woman begging desperately for his cock.

"Look, Zesshi. You look so beautiful," he whispered.

"Yes… Yes, Ainz-sama… You're so good… so good…"

"Now tell me, who do you serve?" He thrust into her aggressively.

"You, Ainz-sama!" she squealed happily.

"How will you serve?"

"In any way I can~"

"How long will you serve?"

"For ever and ever!" she shouted, in a loud bleating cry.

Her pussy folds squeezed tighter and tighter around him. A free hand rubbed over the front of her belly, spreading and smearing her leaked milk all over it. She latched on to his one hand, and they clasped together, affirming their mutual affections as together they spread the milk over her belly, as if blessing the children with their mother's milk.

It was this loving, intimate moment that pulled the next orgasms from the both of them. Unlike before, it was quiet and powerful, instead of overly explosive. They muffled their cries and groans in each other's mouth, even as she clamped down tight on his ejaculating cock. He continued to push up while pulling her down, spearing through her convulsing insides and spreading his seed all over her walls. As their lips separated, there was a thin strand of saliva still connecting them like a bridge, which she slurped up lewdly. He leaned forward to plant another wet, slobbering kiss, and they spent the next few minutes just frozen there in the midst of their orgasms, him carrying her weight and she fitting nice and snug over his cock.

Then, as their climaxes wound down, he walked over to lay her back on her side on the bed, though he was still impaled inside. He moved behind her, sliding his hands over the moist surface of her tummy and making her shudder from his warmth. Then he cupped her breasts and gave several short squeezes, causing a few more bursts of milk to come out. He kissed her shoulder softly and breathed into her sweat-dripping beck. Then, as he nuzzled against her cheek, he pulled his cock out, allowing the flood of their combined fluids to come streaming out.

They lay there for a while, just spooning, his hand coiled possessively over her body. She was still faintly gasping from the lingering shockwaves of pleasure that was running through her. Then, without any words between them, with only mutual and silent understanding, Ainz lifted her thighs and put his cock back inside, thrusting his entire length up to the balls until he reached the entrance of her occupied womb.

They kissed, affirming their bond.

"Mmpph… *smack* Ainz-sama… Ainz-sama…"

"I'm going to start now, Zesshi!"

The mating haze had truly settled on them, on Ainz more than Zesshi. Despite knowing that her belly was already holding his growing children, a part of him started moving his cock in and out, aiming to spread his genes once more inside this lovely woman. Her well-used, thoroughly sodden pussy made constant squishing sounds as his balls slapped repeatedly against her skin. The many fluids inside allowed him to slide right in and out without difficulty, though the tightness inside her never went away.

He lifted one of her nipples and sucked on it like it was a milk drink, which it was in a way, swallowing spurts of her milk. Her juices kept running down her thighs to stain the bed, each lovingly squeezed out by his thrusting. The sight of the beautiful Zesshi, with milk and sweat staining her pristine skin, her abdomen swollen with his child, her adoring eyes gazing at him with such lust, made him crave her all the more—again and again, seeking more and more pleasure in her tight embrace. Back and forth they rocked on the bed, with every slip and slide of his cock inside her warm tunnel, making sweet tender love to each other in the dark.

Then, when he knew he was close, he spread her legs up and wide, and made one last push inside her. He plowed inside her in a frenzy tempered by gentle intentions, his lust paired with an overwhelming desire to love and care and protect. As his woman moaned beneath him, he made one last thrust and came, spreading his seed one more time inside her love tunnel. This time he looked down and watched it happen, watched his pulsing cock deliver wave after wave of his hot semen into her pussy. Being in the midst of another orgasm herself, her inner folds were also doing their best to milk his cock inside, and he absolutely loved it. He looked up and locked gazes with Zesshi and he smiled.

"You're so beautiful. How could I have ever lived without you?" He caressed her wet, matted hair, traced the slender lines of her neck, her shoulder bones, her arm. He followed the curves and shapes of her mature, buxom body, fattened by children, and was awestruck once more by the sheer treasure he now possessed, willingly. She was as precious to her now as anything else he considered his treasures. Just thinking that made him cum a fresh batch, though he didn't know if that was just an extension of his previous orgasm.

"A difficult life perhaps," she whispered back, and he dove forward to kiss his lover once again. Their intertwined forms melded into the darkness, two hearts beating as one.

---

"It seems they caught another one."

Many eyes watched as the prisoner cart trundled into the courtyard. Inside the barred cages were a family of four. The two younger figures were openly crying, though their eyes had long since dried up of tears. The woman's whole body shivered uncontrollably as the guards came up to take them away. Only the man looked proud and haughty, though obviously shaken, his hair tussled and his eyes bloodshot. Their once fine clothing were ripped and grimed from various reasons.

When the guards took the two children away there came such a commotion from the woman, who shrieked and kicked at the men flanking her. Even the man looked stricken as he watched the wailing children disappear from his eyes. He looked up and around, and caught sight of the few nobles watching from the high ramparts.

"Sartoban! Leventrough! You bastards! Help me! Damn you, let go of me! I am a loyal vassal of the King! Unhand me at once! I've done nothing! You hear me? Bring my children back! Sartoban! Ugh!" A guard had slammed his fist into the man's face, and there was a loud, neat cracking sound. A moment later, the man slumped, blood streaming freely from his broken nose.

Beside him the woman's cries only grew louder, echoing all over the enclosed space of the courtyard. Eventually her wild, noisome shrieks disappeared as the guards secured them inside the keep.

All the nobles watching had impassive faces. Murmurs began to spread.

"That fool only thought of running? Absurd."

"Will you be pleading his fate to the king?"

"Absolutely not! He dug his own grave by running like a coward. If he had only but asked me to help him before, then I would have, on my honor, done so, as a friend, and fellow member of the Noble Faction! Yet he squanders the King's good will. Pfagh! He deserves the dungeon, nay, the gallows!"

"Surely you do not mean that, my good fellow. Such a ghastly fate for a noble house!"

"Well his house is forfeit now. It all belongs to the King."

Others whispered on a different tangent.

"You must be careful to wash yourself from association with her. You know how the King's men harassed Lady Pondlemire, though she was widowed by the undead. And just because her brother could be a dreadful Marcher!"

"It is very disquieting that they're going to such drastic lengths. Dame Sunderbun, you must ask your husband to write to the Great Nobles. Surely they can—"

"Oh you poor fool! It is not just the King's men, the Great Nobles are in on it too! They're just as outraged by their cowardice as the King, and are only acting as expected. Good riddance to the traitors, I say."

"Oh, surely you can't mean all that that my dear."

"I do. I and my husband will remain ever loyal to the Kingdom, no matter who wears the Crown. Turncoats and traitors are to be hung, as my father did to that filthy peasant."

"Oh my!"

Despite their chittering, each one of them, one and all, felt as if a chill wind had blown past their bodies, even with the sun burning bright in the sky. A few even begged their companions to return indoors, citing the heat, despite the cold now creeping through their spine.

One particular face watched with an expression that remained wholly unchanged as the events below happened. After the captured prisoners were dragged away, that particular noble sighed and turned to the maid standing next to her.

"My, why did the guards have to be so cruel?" the woman stated, clasping her fingers together. "Don't they know they're only thinking about their children?"

"They were traitors, my lady," said the attendant, with a bow.

Princess Renner cocked her head. "Traitors."

"Yes, indeed," the attendant repeated patiently, as if she was speaking to someone very young. "They did some very bad things to your father, and so they were punished."

"I see… But it's just so awful seeing all that happen to the children… I hope they're getting cared for…"

The maid resisted the urge to snort as she followed along after the Princess. But in retrospect, it was far better that the vapid, air-headed girl remain oblivious to the various truths in reality, and remain in her gilded cage. She had her own soft spot for the children, but it was clear that children of traitors in particular had a very uncertain future.

There was a raging undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that coursed through the soul of the Re-Estize Kingdom. Everyone, from the poorest peasant to the King himself felt it in their bones, though none could ever agree on the exact reasons why. It was as if each instinctively knew that they stood poised on the edge of a precipice, and that it only needed one blow to send them careening over into the abyss.

Much of the root of their current troubles lay with the disastrous end to their war with the Sorcerous Kingdom, along with the events that stemmed from that historic battle. The Kingdom lost one of its crucial cities when it was forced to cede E-Rantel to Ainz Ooal Gown. Soon thereafter, the Baharuth Empire, once a crucial counterweight, swore fealty to this upstart realm, instantly pitting the Kingdom between two potentially hostile realms. Despite being historical enemies, trade between the two realms usually went on its usual pace, as neither nation was willing to vigorously upset its economies.

On the other hand, this wellspring of wealth had instantly dried up as soon as the treaty had been signed by the Blood Emperor. Being now affiliated with the undead, the merchants were then pressured to cease all trade activity with the Empire. Normally, it would have suffocated that nation, but despite the various sanctions, its link to the Sorcerous Kingdom had somehow made it flourish despite all odds, which then left the Re-Estize Kingdom in an even more awkward situation. Though it could still trade with nations beyond the Empire's borders, it was still a long and inefficient route, which meant that prices of certain imports were bound to rise for as long as the embargo held.

Still, such a setback was supposed to be minor, in the greater scheme of things. After all, the Holy Kingdom, while never a stalwart ally, enjoyed peaceful relations with Re-Estize. But they never expected the unexpectable. Before they could reach out to Roble for succor, that realm too found their own problems. Jaldabaoth, the demon who had ravaged the Capital in a previous event, had returned, and this time he had united a whole army of demihumans under his banner. During that whole conflict, the people of the Re-Estize Kingdom felt themselves fortunate to have been spared the demon's wrath, and had begun initial preparations in case the Holy Kingdom did fall. But it did not.

In the aftermath, it became very clear that the Holy Kingdom was, if not allied, but at least sympathetic to Ainz Ooal Gown, for the aid he so blatantly offered the beleaguered nation. Many whispered that it had been a mistake to refuse aid in the war against the beastmen, for it had firmly driven the nation into the arms of the undead king. Now the Re-estize Kingdom was trapped between unfriendly powers, a position that offered no means for alleviating their current ills.

This then forced the pressure inwards into the Kingdom and its people, and each of its inhabitants immediately felt the effects settle in their lives, and not in an entirely pleasant way.

First, the war had led to the complete decimation of a sizable portion of the working population. These were mostly the able-bodied peasants who had been levied and sent to the Katze Plains, where they had all died from the Sorcerer King's attack. No one had expected a complete decimation of the army. That then left a significant amount of farmlands dangerously underworked from a lack of personnel, leading to many wasted harvests. Though the Kingdom could boast a sizable surplus of food out of all the human nations, they were for weathering lean years, not an outright shortage. And the majority of the surplus was locked away in royal warehouses at key cities throughout the Kingdom, each under the purview of powerful nobles.

The peasantry that came converging on these cities to beg for their share of relief were left disappointed. This led to riots and protests in many cities all over the land. This was then exacerbated by the secondary effect of the Katze Massacre.

Much of the heirs of various noble houses had also been killed by Ainz Ooal Gown, leaving the vast majority of nobles suddenly without a viable heir. Though provisions could easily be made for females to take their inheritance, grieving fathers were now faced with the prospect of leaving their estates to inexperienced daughters who had been groomed to be wives and not title-bearers; or whose daughters were otherwise already married off and ineligible, effectively leaving them childless.

Those who were fortunate enough to have "spares" were left to deal with mediocre spawn. Only a few lucky noble houses gained favorably by losing an eldest son who was relatively incompetent. The rest suddenly had their estates' prospects left to impulsive youths who had to be schooled vigorously to make up for the shortfall.

Lastly there were those houses who had been wiped out entirely, those whose heads had confidently gone to Katze expecting to watch the usual armed pageantry from a safe distance, not to be ground into a slush of meat and bone by mindless fell beasts summoned from strange worlds. As required by law, if no viable heirs were found, the estates were folded back to the Crown, though this was a long and arduous process involving many royal adjuncts to prepare the paperwork and all such minutiae.

In the chaos following the Katze massacre, the Crown could not yet afford to go after these estates in the short term, thus leaving entire swathes of lands at the mercy of locally appointed magistrates—and at worst, the highest authority left were the heads of the noble's own private guard. These stewards would then also end up holding the keys to the nobles' stockpile of goods, which would become a factor in the oncoming troubles.

There was an initial mad scramble as the nobles congregated in the capital city, all for their own desperate reasons. Some wanted to barter for favors from other more fortunate nobles, to help secure their lands. Others shopped for wives or husbands for their new heirs, seeking new alliances now that almost everything had been upended. Still others sought to take advantage of the situation, leveraging their superior situations to extract favors and extort those less fortunate.

Their absences had the effect of leaving much of the countryside wholly depleted of authority, noble or otherwise. Most of the nobility brought their families with them to the capital, thereby leaving control of their estate to stewards in varying forms of authority. When combined with the brewing discontent caused by the oncoming famine, there began a spark that would soon engulf the whole of the Kingdom.

The most damning example was that of Tollens, a major crossroad town on the western outskirts of the Kingdom. Its young lord had yet to wed his would-be wife, and had gone to Katze without fear. He had not returned from that bloody battlefield. Being the only remaining scion of his house, his house was all but extinct, but it took a while for things to be verified. No Message was sent to the steward as regards the situation, and no rider was likewise sent from the Capital to inform them that they were to be ruled directly by the King for the time being.

The unfortunate estate had three farming villages owing it fealty, all major producers of the Kingdom's grain. When news of Katze came by way of traveling merchant, the grief-stricken farmers nonetheless had faith that their lord would provide. But with only the steward present, the doors to the warehouse remained shut. To add fuel to the flames, the steward also placed the household guard to watch over it, with orders to be merciless to any trespassers. The volume of people soon become a crowd, and it didn't take long for rabble-rousers to rile it up into a mob.

No one knew how the chaos started. The nobles believed some arrogant youths attempted to enter through the rooftop and from there force open the doors to allow the crowd to enter. The rebels' constant claim was that a street urchin, not even affiliated with the peasants, had come too close and had been slain ruthlessly by the guards. Either way, blood was spilt, and what was once a tense standoff snowballed into an all-out brawl.

By the end of it, there was a pile of peasant corpses on the ground, and angrier mob, and a whole bunch of injured. The guards were forced to retreat, fleeing their posts with their tails between their legs. The rest of the peasants stormed the noble's mansion, where the steward was slain in the scuffle. After recovering the keys, the peasants burst into the warehouse only to find that there was less than what was expected. Apparently, the surplus had been quietly portioned out to fulfil some unknown purpose long before.

The enraged peasants were roused to further acts of violence by rabble rousers, who turned the town upside down in search of food. The local townspeople were forced to flee as their houses were ransacked, and sometimes even burned by the overzealous. Soon, the rabble-rousers began talking up speeches about independence, how they would now forswear the King and resolve to taking a stand for their new nation, however small it might seem. They armed themselves with whatever they could find and made of the town as best a bastion as they could.

Still, it must be noted that enthusiasm for rebellion had by then waned, as over half of the mob had just been peasants looking to manage their poor harvests. Some were quite unwilling to go along with thoughts of independence, and thereafter fled to escape the impending retribution. When a neighboring noble sent riders to purge Tollens of malcontents, they found its ragtag army and forced it to flee into the surrounding countryside to turn into just a bandit group, effectively leaving the town completely empty of all goods and valuables. So ended the sad tale of that particular town.

But such tales were repeated all over the Re-Estize Kingdom. While they began with almost similar causes, their outcomes varied sometimes. In a certain town far to the east, the nascent army that grew from the mob was led by veterans of previous battles for Katze, so when the ruling lord came to retake what was his, they ambushed his force and put him to the sword. Such towns were labeled "bandit dens" thereafter, completely ignoring their claims of independence. There were constant whispers at court that they would receive their just retribution in due time, but for now no action was yet being done.

Still others became formidable bandit armies in their own right, their hunger fueling their decision to take up lives of banditry. They ravaged the countryside, worsening the effect of the troubles and causing ripples of chaos all over the land. There were rumors of a literal army of them in the south, close to the border with the Slaine Theocracy, where a ruthless warlord was uniting bandits underneath his banner. He too was making a nation of himself, though one founded through pillage and plunder.

The turmoil of the peasants began a cascading effect on the middle-class citizens who lived in those towns and cities. Though they would normally have the means to acquire their share of the surplus, they were stymied by the inexplicable rise in the prices and the rampant chaos that displaced many of them from their homes. Only the richest merchants could afford to pay off the royal dispensaries for their shares. Even then, these nabobs refused to be pinched, and instead of groveling for their shares, simply traveled to other places to get their needs, bypassing the problem entirely.

One popular destination was the Sorcerous Kingdom, where grain was cheap and plentiful, and only required one to respect their laws involving demihuman races. Already there were some top merchants from the Kingdom who had packed up their businesses to move to either the Empire or E-Rantel with all their assets and sundry, confident that Ainz Ooal Gown would be able to provide better environs for their future enterprises.

The sudden closing of these companies aggravated the situation in their former homes, as these left towns and cities with a gaping hole in their economies. Many of the middle-class there found themselves without work, and scrambled to fill up the few slots from other companies, or otherwise were forced to take up work in the many emptied farms. While this would have been a good thing, and indeed several key territories saw an upswing in productivity this way; the rest of their number refused to change to adapt to the times. They either followed their bosses' example and left for other nations for better prospects. Otherwise they joined the growing throng of disaffected poor who were now gathered into dangerous gang-like groups rioting daily in the cities. Their canny, more educated backgrounds meant they usually became advisors and experts, leveraging their skills in their own way to aid the rebellions.

With much of the lower class in seeming revolt, the whole country seemed to stop spinning on its wheels, as entire portions became convulsed by crises that found no solutions. It even ended up upsetting the normal flow of life for adventurers, whose groups quickly found themselves unable to rely on the various towns and cities of the Kingdom for safety outside their quests. Some mysteriously disappeared, hanging up their badges and never returning—for these were the ones who'd finally accepted the Theocracy's offer of employment.

Others had to turn to becoming Workers to eke out a living among the mercenary groups who were now becoming influential as nobles promised entire fortunes for their services. This led to monsters suddenly becoming a lot more rampant, causing an upsurge of unsolved quests. The chaos also attracted roving demihuman tribes, some displaced by Jaldabaoth's war, who sought to carve out a claim for themselves in certain lands. This led to constant clashes between them and human forces fighting for all manner of causes, each in a bid to conquer land and resources.

One particular territory had become overrun by a mysterious group which grew exponentially stronger as time passed, with many wondering if this was the Eight Fingers asserting their dominance as an independent power. The local lords had no recourse but to keep to the Capital City, unable to draw upon the resources of their fiefs.

Princess Renner had met one such individual before the events just described, having borrowed a contingent of men-at-arms to attempt to retake his lands.

"It was an absolute disaster," the man had said, with stricken expression. The man had sought an audience with the Princess, in a desperate attempt to bypass the long queue of nobles seeking an audience with the King himself. "Those bandits were no ordinary band, damn it! They were organized! My men were outmatched."

"And how were you able to escape, my lord?" Renner had asked.

The nobleman snorted. "A man must always be prudent in any situation. When I saw that it had become hopeless, I had the Workers sound the retreat. No matter. I will have my lands, Your Highness. If you would please give the good word to your father on this…"

The Princess had stated her assurances, but made no outward promises.

"The poor man," the Princess later said in private. "I do hope he does not become as reckless as the Baron Delmas." The Baron she mentioned had done as the noble had, but had disappeared together with his band in his lands. It was assumed that the worst had come to pass. But there had been unpleasant rumors circulating in Court that the man had joined "the Marchers" in open but undeclared revolt against the King.

The Marchers were yet another issue that the Kingdom faced, and this time the nobles took more notice of it than the petty "squabbles" of minor nobles and the peasantry.

The "Marchers" was an unofficial name for those few nobles who had gone into their beleaguered territories for whatever reasons and had seemingly disappeared there. The usual expectation was that they had been killed for one reason or another, but there was another, more unpleasant fact that reared its head. These nobles had seemingly retreated into their demesnes, and had begun systematically preparing to cut themselves off from the King and declaring their independence.

Very tellingly, they no longer responded to the repeated summons by either the Noble or the Royal Faction to return to court, nor did they seemingly allow any news of their presence to leak out to observers. Again, these were usually attributed to misfortune, with the nobles being unable to respond because they were technically dead. But more often than not there were persistent rumors that these were indeed "Marchers", who saw some opportunity in the current situation, and were now busy preparing accordingly, perhaps even fortifying their own lands. They and their lands became as phantoms dotting the nation, oblivious to the King's justice.

Such defiance could only have come from a perceived lack of royal authority. Indeed, the widespread little rebellions could have easily been crushed by a show of force, as was expected from either great faction at court, but none came. Thus, this was seen as affirming that the king had lost nearly all authority.

But beneath the surface, the King's justice was indeed hard at work. The truly perceptive among the nobles were able to realize that royal prerogative had not been made weak and indecisive—rather, its attention was drawn to other matters it deemed more important. And in this case, the King had indeed marshalled the remainder of his authority in rooting out another brand of traitor, the "runaways".

These so-called runaways included the small family of four that Renner had just witnessed being dragged into the dungeons. These were nobles, mostly from minor houses and endowments. They had been most affected by the waves of rebellion, and they were quite powerless to marshal any sort of reaction. Knowing there was nothing they could do and dreading the escalation of the crisis, they resolved to instead forsake their privileges and rank. They gathered their families, packed up all their meager resources and fled, like the wealthier merchants, to other countries. Most went towards the Empire, in an attempt to find a place beyond it at the City State Alliance.

When the higher nobles discovered this, they were naturally angered by this perceived affront to their traditions. Renner's father had also reportedly been apoplectic, though since Renner hadn't seen it herself, she did not put any serious stock in the rumor—especially since she knew her father was still bedridden from the aftereffects of the war.

Royal retribution was swift, and thus many soldiers were sent like hunting dogs to search for and drag back these errant families to face royal justice at the capital. Their estates were formally revoked and remanded to the Crown (even if they could do nothing with it yet). Many were caught in this way, as they had difficulties crossing the border cleanly into Arwintar, and Imperial authorities were only too glad to hand them over to the bloodhounds if they did not wish to simply defect to the Empire.

Day after day did Renner come to witness the sight of these raggedy-looking, dejected nobles dragged along on cages for all to see, casting a pall on their brethren who had remained "true". Though many rejoiced to see justice functioning as expected, many wondered if they might be driven to such a state, and wondered if they would have the courage to do as their inferiors had done.

Princess Renner and her attendant presently arrived before large double doors flanked by pike-wielding soldiers. Inside, they knew that a Council of War was underway, with the King and several high-ranking nobles from both factions in attendance. Their numbers were diminished, ever since Katze, but the remnants were determined to make a show of solidarity. It was evident that something serious was being considered behind those double doors, as no war council had ever been called there when the time had not demanded it. To contemplate fighting the Empire or the Sorcerous Kingdom again was out of the question; if so, what was this meeting for?

The doors presently opened, and several servants and attendants scurried out, bearing scrolls and sheafs of paper in their hands. Renner watched these clerks bustle about eagerly like rodents. Next came the nobles, each ascending in rank. They nodded or bowed to the Princess, but offered no conversation and merely went on their way with grim looks on their faces. Lastly, there came the squat form of the Second Prince Zanack. His brooding brows tilted when he spied his sister waiting. He was a squat man, certainly how ow one should expect a Crown Prince to appear. But therein was the truth, and her swaggered confidently towards his sister to give her his attention.

"Renner, I certainly did not expect you here," said the prince. He looked around with curiosity. "Where is your delightful little squire?"

The Princess's smile widened, as a blush glowed on her cheeks. "Climb-dear is still doing his very best practicing his 'fighting skills', whatever that means. I know he's working hard to become a warrior like Gazef."

"Hmmm…" the prince shrugged. His cunning gaze swept towards her attendant. "Would you care for some tea, sister?"

"Oh, I should be delighted!" the Princess said brightly. "But tell me, is father not here? I should very much like to meet him."

"He didn't attend. I was the one deputized to represent him," the prince replied.

"My! But does that not mean you're practically King now, my dear Zanack?" said, in a tone of voice that seemed halfway teasing and conspiratorial, and also halfway serious. If Ranposa really ended up dying, it would not surprise her to see her brother take over the crown.

The prince snorted. "Father may be old, but he is still spry and strong." Still, he looked pleased by it, which the attendant noted silently. "Was there any particular reason you wanted to speak to him? You know you could still arrange it with the master steward if you wanted to."

"Oh, I do want to," she said. "I've had plenty of good, desperate people calling on me the past few days! Er… How many were they again?" she turned to the attendant. The maid bent down and whispered a number in Renner's ear. "Oh yes, four nobles, each from wonderful houses!"

Zanack snorted and shared a wry, world-weary look with the attendant. "And what did they want from Father that they could not get from anyone else?"

"They all want father's aid and assurance with their problems, and I agree. We should definitely help those who are loyal to Father!"

"Well, as I said, they have to take it up with the head steward, who's monitoring Father's health. But I wouldn't get your hopes up, my sister. Even were he less occupied, the Crown has other priorities in hand, though I will not bore you with the details… Come, come, tell me about more pleasant things… Like that squire of yours. An interesting lad."

The pair talked about many other things on their way to their private room. Mostly it was the Princess describing Climb and the many intimate moments she shared with him, while Zanack listened with a patient sneer on his face.

Once they were behind closed doors, and the attendant had been dismissed, Zanac flopped onto the proffered seat and sighed. Renner demurely sat on her side of the room, and watched her brother with a disinterested air.

"Your expression tells me the prospects are grim."

"It's a disaster," Zanack said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "But first, let me ask, did you get down the names of those who were petitioning you?"

"The maid should be giving them to you on the way out."

"You ordered her?"

"No," said Renner, her eyes glittering. "She will do it on her own initiative. That one has a heart filled with certain… convictions. She will feel obligated as a daughter of a house that was left largely intact to beg for intercession for those less fortunate than her."

"Ah, I know that type. But my sister, I cannot help but admit that we should be needing more like her in the days to come. Loyalty and fealty is something of a commodity we should treasure."

Renner cocked her head. "Who is it, brother?"

He sighed, unsurprised that his sister had easily caught on to the meaning behind his words. "I knew you'd pick it up. I speak of Urovana. That fucking bastard's probably a Marcher, and it's a disaster in the making." The prince cursed.

The Princess cocked her head. "The Margrave Urovana? Why, he seemed quite loyal to Father! He was even a member of the Royal Faction!"

Zanack frowned. "He was, and he was never tired of letting people know. But this whole business has changed everyone, mostly for the worst. Even he cannot be expected to remain as he was, as long as the world also changed around him." He clucked his tongue. "But he is a fool! A fool, if he thinks he can undermine father."

"He has a large domain," she reminded him patiently.

"Large enough to threaten the Capital directly. He could besiege it in a day if he could. If he sets his mind to it, he could even grow more. Certainly no other Great Noble is close enough to challenge him." Apparently, as Zanack then explained, the man had at the last minute refused to answer the summons to a war council, the very same council that had just concluded.

"This certainly left a gaping hole in the Royal faction, one that's very hard to fill. But with all that's happening, I'm guessing everyone's still too distracted to start playing games," Zanack said. "Especially with war on their minds."

"So was that really the conclusion you gentlemen reached?"

Zanack sighed and crossed his fingers. "Were you able to read the latest accounting records, as I suggested?"

"Yes."

"I assume your conclusion remains unchanged?"

"It only reinforced it, my dear brother."

Zanack frowned, his expression turning distant. He played with the ring on his fingers in an idle fashion. "Well, even the other lords agree with you, though they don't have the numbers to fall back on. They're simply following their gut, and that gut feeling tells them that all the trouble currently plaguing the Kingdom can be fixed by invading another country."

"Is there truly no other way?" Her words were delivered without inflection. It was as if their speaker was less concerned with avoiding war than with the clinical question that merely sought a logical answer.

"They've not responded to any of our overtures," Zanack replied. "With the current state of their country it's understandable that any response will be delayed, by even a long time. But they haven't responded—at all. Not even a polite refusal."

"Perhaps your messages are being intercepted?" Renner offered.

"While that is a chilling thought, that is impossible," he replied. "Our messengers have each returned safely, confirming the receipt of the message. And each of their recipients are of high rank, certainly high enough to pass the message to their fellows—in case there's any intrigue going around." It was a well-known fact that authority within the Holy Kingdom was currently split between the King who was yet to be coronated and the surviving nobility who was opposed to the former Queen. "No, we've sent our overtures to each of their key players. If indeed they are choosing to value their own schemes over their nation and deliberately withholding our messages, then it shows us to be more than justified to attack."

"Well, do we even have the strength of arms to press our demands? You said that the Margrave might have become a Marcher. Well, so have a number of his fellows."

"We're on the edge of our rope, but the general consensus is that we can scrape up enough of an army to do it," Zanack said grimly. "Levies from loyal nobles, then recruiting a few Workers here and there… Those pesky mercenaries operating freely in our lands can also be invited—just give them a writ of passage and a pardon for effectively invading the Kingdom." Aside from the bandits, there were also mercenary groups, most likely hired by the Eight Fingers, who were rampaging through undefended lands and plundering what they could.

"Does Father agree?"

"He has no other choice but to agree to what the Factions demand," he replied. "Even his own supporters are on board this endeavor. He cannot refuse and possibly risk another rift in his very inner circle. The Margrave's 'betrayal' is already a sign of the cracks. You think the Noble Faction isn't jumping to do their own thing as well?"

"Well, haven't they?"

Zanack laughed. "Oh, my sister. You can certainly spin a long, dizzy thread around a man's mind, forever darkening his thoughts. This is not flattery, so you need not bow; this is fact. But tell me, are you also not afraid of our father's royal authority being further undermined? To have Nobles start scheming to take over his Crown, rights be damned? That would be an era of bloodshed few would survive. And bright as you are, I do not think you would be able to survive the chaos, my dear, sweet sister. Certainly I do not expect to survive, myself."

"How would you know, dear brother?" she asked, almost ghoulishly. "What if I were secretly a Marcher all along? And that I have marshalled a force in secret to make of the Capital City my own demesne? Would that break our heart? Would that make you so very sad?"

Zanack stared into his sister's eyes and couldn't help but shudder. "If that's the case, then surely you can wait until Father's buried? Even you must surely hold some love for him yet, enough so he wouldn't live to see his own daughter undo all that his line—our line—has built."

It was her turn to laugh. "Oh, do lighten up, brother. I told you didn't I? I detest all other ambitions that do not lead to my spending eternity with my Climb. As long as Climb does not aspire to become King of his own kingdom, then you and all the rest are safe. For now." She smiled, and it was devoid of mirth or warmth. "In the future, I may be tempted… As a loving wife, to give her husband something suitable… perhaps? But that is in the future."

"I do pray that such a time never come," Zanack said, with genuinely hushed voice.

"You were speaking of this incoming war," she said, abruptly changing the subject without fanfare.

"Yes... incoming, and inevitable. As your mind has most keenly discovered, our nation cannot shoulder the famine that is sure to be coming. Tell me, do you foresee success?"

"I do not have a mind for military matters, my dear brother. And I have seen that the fate of entire nations can rest on the delicate edge of a sword. No battle is sure; and no victory leaves the victor unscarred."

Zanack narrowed his eyes. "What… Do you mean that even if we win, we still might not get what we want?"

"As I said, it is not for me to say what the future brings." She didn't elaborate on her cryptic musings, and Zanack likewise did not press her.

"Well then, my dear sister, I must be off," he said, after finishing off his tea. He rose and stretched his limbs in an overly slovenly manner. In any other situation it might have invited whispers—seeing the Crown Prince act without any attention to decorum.

"Have you heard from the Marquis?"

He shook his head. "He hasn't been out of his estate in months. Thankfully he has been sending back letters, which means we can't write him off as a Marcher, fortunately for us. Ah, that reminds me, I'm just about to have a letter sent regarding these developments. Though I'm sure a canny mind like him will have anticipated these developments already."

"We must meet to discuss matters," she said. She looked at him pointedly.

He caught the hidden meaning in her gaze well. In these dark days, Zanack felt a compelling belief that destiny was pulling strongly on his soul, and that he should follow its clarion call wherever it lead. Barbro's death had made him the crown prince, but these events presented a unique opportunity, even if the situation was quite dire. Wherever his destiny would lead him, he knew he should try to control its flow. And he could only do that by relying on the two minds he respected most in this Kingdom: his frightening little sister, and Marquis Raeven. The former had the brains, while the latter had experience and influence—enough to make of Zanack a good candidate for a Marcher, if he were not already heir to the entire Kingdom itself.

"I will request his presence in my letter," Zanack said in agreement. "And I do think we would be better served if you also sent him a letter, Renner. Just to help convince him and all."

"I will. Good day to you, brother."

As soon as the prince left, the maids returned, bustling and fussing over the princess. Tellingly, there were only a fewer of them here than was usual for the entourage of a royal princess, and that was because of the crisis currently gripping the Kingdom. The maids and other servants were all of royal stock, and most of them had to be recalled to their houses to serve their families in new ways: as heirs, heiresses, or bargaining chips for new alliances. Women and men who were once considered mere "spares" had become crucial to the future of many doomed houses.

Still, it didn't seem as if Renner minded it much. The princess remained subdued in her chair, her eyes immersed in thought—though to the maids it was as if the princess' mind was just completely lost in its apparent emptiness.

"Leave us," she said suddenly.

"But my lady…"

"Please… I wish to be alone for now," she said sweetly.

The maids looked among themselves uncertainly, though they still did as they were commanded. After a while, the Princess was once again left in a pensive silence. Then, she turned her head, as if to address someone invisible. "I'm ready to meet."

Something changed in the room, as if the lights had suddenly been dimmed. But the lamps remained lit, and the sunlight still streamed from the window. Renner's expression remained unchanged.

Then a Gate opened, right in the middle of the room, revealing an imposing figure on the other end. It was Albedo, and she came flanked by several maids of her own. It was clear to see that even these servants far outclassed the princess' own, as their beauty was enough to rival her as the "Golden". Yet the representative of Ainz Ooal Gown was glorious and resplendent in of herself, and her impassive face was built to be fair and cold as a goddess sculpted in marble. The maids prepared the seat for her, and set it right next to the Princess. Then they retreated beyond the Gate, before it closed shut.

Albedo tossed her head and snapped her fingers. The shadow demons in the room shifted, each acknowledging that they had sealed the room shut from intruders. When all seemed satisfactory, only then did the Overseer look down on Renner, who was now kneeling on the floor before her like a supplicant.

"Oh, my dear, please sit, please sit!" Albedo said, in a sickly-sweet voice. "Have you had tea?" She took her seat on the lavish, cushion-like chair—a most debauched-looking thing, thought it did look good for supporting the woman's apparent pregnancy.

"Yes, my lady," the Princess said, smiling gratefully. "But may I offer you my own? It is humble fair, but I hope you like it."

"Oh, don't mind it," Albedo said, waving dismissively. "Besides, I always have to watch for my diet these days. Can't have anything risk my baby."

"Yes, of course," Renner mumbled, glancing down at the very thick swell in the Overseer's body. When she had first heard the news she had been quite in disbelief, as she had never expected such a thing as a pregnant ambassador. But it was clear that she was the only one who was allowed to see this pregnancy, as Albedo had not been to the Palace in her official capacity in quite a long while. That she was allowed this glimpse was a hint of the trust her side placed on her. Which was just as she wanted.

"I have been reading your latest dispatches." She adjusted herself on her seat. "It was most illuminating. You have done well."

"Thank you, my lady."

"Pish posh, when we are speaking informally like this, you can leave off the formalities, dear," Albedo said, speaking like some old matron teasing a younger maid.

"Oh, my lady, but what would anyone think?"

"Ainz-sama isn't here, and neither is anyone from your camp. Let us speak frankly as we have always done."

"Well, if you will allow me to speak frankly, then may I say that I am quite jealous about your condition, though it should be praised, of course."

"Ah, yes." Albedo nodded in understanding. "Your time will come, dear. When all of this is over, you can have as many babies with your dear puppy as you want. That will be your right as an ally to our cause, for my lord rewards those who serve Him richly."

"I am thankful to Ainz-sama, truly," Renner said, making another bow.

"And that time will certainly be soon, if I mark my estimates right."

Renner froze, her eyes narrowing. "… Am I right in understanding that Your Excellency has willed that this war will be starting soon?"

"Oh, there is nothing definite yet," Albedo said airily. "There are still quite a lot of factors in play. You only need to play your part as a hand unseen, and our designs will bring fruit without too much incident. You might say that it shall become quite an ordinary exercise—almost boring, in fact. But it must be done. To borrow an expression from your peoples—the chicken's neck must be wrung. Well, I propose that it must also need to be feathered; that it must be gutted."

"I see. A most apt comparison." She hesitated. "Is it the will of Your Excellency that I continue my responsibilities here at the Re-Estize Kingdom?"

"As I said, please do relax, my dear! Everything is going according to my master's will. His intellect is far superior than either of us. We need only be content that he deigns to reveal portions of his design to us. And you must only need play the part assigned to you, and you shall be rewarded."

"Ainz-sama must surely be a great god, to be gifted with such a devious, implacable mind."

"Oh he is that and more, though he tries to be humble about it. I do not mind. He is cute in that way." Albedo let out a giggle. "Now, enough of stuffy business. Let us talk of much fluffier things—tell me, is your puppy still trying to become a knight?"

At the mention of her pet, Renner's eyes lit up like bonfires at a war camp at night. "Oh my yes," she gushed.

The two spent the rest of the meeting discussing the fine art of seducing their men—as well as the means to enslave his heart forever.

"When our ambitions are fulfilled," Albedo said. "We shall be able to have more of these meetings, without needing to be secret about it."

"Oh yes, I do pray that day comes, and soon."

"Leave it all to Ainz-sama, dear. Who knows? The war could begin from the simplest of events. In retrospect we shall see that it was a stroke of genius by the Master, and we shall laugh about it and toast many drinks to His name."

---

"Oi, Leader! Breakfast is about done!"

"Hm! Hah!" Gagaran watched her leader perform a few practice swings. The sword gleamed brilliantly beneath the shade of the old tree; the luster of its edge undiminished.

Lakyus presently stopped and let her sword arm fall to the side. She took a moist rag and began dabbing at the sweat on her skin. Her flushed skin was a testament to the sheer intensity of her exercise, though she retained a remarkably stable breathing rhythm. "I'll be there, don't worry," she said.

"Geez, you're really putting that thing through its paces," Gagaran observed.

"'Tis a new blade," Lakyus explained. "And it has yet to whet its edge with blood. I must get the feel of it now, before the time comes that it shall need to be stained by necessity."

"Mate, as your friend and fellow warrior I would advise you to focus on your original sword instead. Unless you get the hang of dual-wielding the blades, the white one's just going to be a burden isn't it?" Gagaran said.

"Yes, but I cannot just squander this!" Lakyus said. "This was given to me by Evileye's husband—a gift more precious than I can possibly deserve!"

"I'm sure that Momon won't mind if you keep it on display somewhere." At Lakyus' glare Gagaran cleared her throat and amended, "Or rather, if you just stuff it inside the ol' chest."

"Nay, Gagaran," Lakyus said, taking another test swing. "I must ever be ready to swing this on a moment's notice. Don't you remember that time when that thief almost got away with Kilneiram?"

"Here's a hot thought: what if the thief takes off with both swords? Genius."

Lakyus snorted. "Then I hope I have already died by then, as surely only a disaster would have allowed anyone to take not just one, but two blades. If that ever came to pass, it was because Blue Rose was completely wiped out. Now come, I'm not in the mood for debating this with you. Let's have breakfast."

Tia and Tina were waiting at their campsite. They were currently encamped at an area close to the borders between the two Kingdoms. It had taken them a long and circuitous route to be here, as they had to keep stopping at certain towns to receive their coded messages from their contact across the border. This had allowed them to complete a small number of lower level missions along the way. All in all, it had been quite a fruitful endeavor for the adventuring group.

"Oi! Why the hell did you two start eating already?" Gagaran asked. Neither of the twins deigned to answer as they continued chowing down on their breakfast. Gagaran glanced helplessly at Lakyus, who shrugged and spooned her portion of the breakfast into her bowl.

"So, you were practicing again, leader?" Tia asked. Gagaran started, and turned towards her.

"Oi, so you can talk." The twins still ignored her.

"What of it?" Lakyus asked.

"You've been getting obsessed with the blade," Tia observed.

"Very obsessed," Tina affirmed.

"You guys too? Come on, it's not so bad. I'm just honing my skills with an unfamiliar blade."

"Didn't Momon claim that you could unlock the blades' power if it were wielded together?" Tia asked. "You're not Momon, so you can't wield them together just yet. There's no point carrying the other blade around is there?"

"Exactly my point," Gagaran muttered.

Lakyus scoffed in a manner that most betrayed her noble roots. "Be that as it may, this new one may have hidden properties that no one has discovered yet. It's foolish to write it off."

"Sister, maybe we should introduce her to a weapons master," Tina said.

"Go back? To them? Not a chance. Not even if leader begs," Tia said.

"You're right."

"Besides, you're not built to dual wield, Lakyus," Gagaran said.

Lakyus sighed. "All right, that's enough of the blade talk. I now see why the lack of a fifth member is really hurting my esteem in this group's eyes."

"What are you talking about? Evileye would've ridiculed you too!"

"Not when it was a gift from her precious Momon-sama," Lakyus said, tapping her forehead smugly. "Anyway, Evileye would also have said, 'Let's get back to business'. And I agree with our invisible, absent friend. We're very near to the border now. Our contact will be waiting us very soon. Let's make sure our mission goes off smoothly."

Tia sighed. "Boss, you don't have to remind us."

"Rather heavy-handed to redirect talk of your blade that way," Gagaran mumbled into her breakfast.

Lakyus cleared her throat and put her food aside. "We'll be heading out in ten minutes. Make sure you're ready."

Despite the groaning and grumbling, Blue Rose managed the affair of closing up their campsite and erasing nearly all trace of their presence in that allotted time. Such was to be expected of their rank as adamantite. Soon after, they were back on the road with their carriage, clearing the last few miles before the border to the Holy Kingdom.

Still, despite their business-like mien, idle talk still managed to break free, and such was the case not five minutes into their journey.

"Feels strange doesn't it?" Gagaran remarked. "That that Evileye was the first to become a mother. You'd never think of it, if you lined us all up side by side."

"Yeah, most people who know of us would expect you to be first," Tia said. "You're the one always getting soused in some tavern or other."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, my ladies," Gagaran said. "While I do get all down and dirty with the tavern fellows, I can still discriminate in my drunkenness. You don't catch me going up to the rooms with your average drunk deadbeat." She cocked her head. "And besides, I'd never get caught knocked up with some unknown's kid. Not with all the precautions I've got."

"A few secret herbs won't be of much help," Tina said. "Not if a man's seed is determined enough."

"Well look at you, miss gold-rank hunter, lecturing me about birth control! Well go on, please do share us the powerful Ijaniya techniques on how to best protect your womb from unwanted intruders!"

Tina coughed with a blush on her face as Tia looked with wry bemusement at her twin. It was a known fact among Blue Rose, even when Evileye was still here, that Tina took the lion's share of propositions of the twins, and even from those who mistook her for her sister. "Well, like you said I also have my own precautions."

"Is it possible that she will give birth to a girl?" Lakyus said next, joining the conversation.

"What, Evileye's brat? It's a flip of the coin."

"I'm just imagining a child born from her beauty… crossed with Momon's appearance. I… I don't have a good imagination."

Gagaran barked a laugh. "If it's a boy, it's definitely gonna be a looker like Momon! He's gonna be able to get all the girls. Hell, a boy sounds like it'll be a nice change of pace."

"A change of pace? What do you mean by that?" Tia asked.

"Well, if it's a girl…"

"What? You think the kid's gonna join Blue Rose or something?" Tina asked. "Will we even be alive by then?"

"I'll be able to live long enough to pass the honor along!" Gagaran said. "Because there's no way a daughter of those two don't end up being the greatest adventurers ever!"

"Why stop at being an adventurer?" Lakyus asked. "They might become kings of their own right."

The other three looked with shock at their leader. Her saying those words was quite a surprise to them, for they who knew their leader well enough after many years together. Lakyus and the nobility were not things that usually mixed, considering the woman's background.

"Er… Lakyus, what're you talking about?" Gagaran asked uncertainly.

"No, it's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Just some idle musings. Though I do agree that a girl sounds good. In any case, I'm excited to see it."

"Wonder if we can swing by to visit before it's born?" Gagaran asked.

"Shoot, we don't even know how far along she is," Tia said.

"Well, let's ask her," Gagaran said. "Then, give it a few weeks, and we'll come visit them. We can assist with the birth."

"Um… we should probably leave that to the professionals," Tina said.

Lakyus cleared her throat. "Might I remind you lot that going forward we're going to have a very busy year. We've got a backload of missions we need to clear to help the Kingdom."

Gagaran blew a raspberry. "So? Let's clear them all out, easy as pie." Her teammates shared a chuckle.

"Oh, very well," Lakyus said, with a roll of her eyes. "I promise that if we do end up clearing our share, then we'll definitely find a way to be near Evileye when the time comes. Now shut up and focus on the mission, I pray." She consulted her map. "We're almost there."

All of Blue Rose put their serious faces on as their mission dictated it.

"I see one," Tia said, using her superior senses to gaze out onto a spot in the distance. "A lone rider, coming our way. Wearing a hood."

"Right as they agreed," Lakyus said. "This is the border too." She looked down on the road. Though there was no clear sign—being that both nations relied on forts on either side to watch for enemy movements—the maps were clear that this was the border between the two Kingdoms. "Look sharp everyone."

They each readied their arms, keeping them close at hand. Their designated backup for the mission, Tina, lay low, ever watchful for a sudden ambush. The forest around them grew hush, as if the very trees were aware of the tension that now filled the air.

Blue Rose's carriage approached the hooded rider. As they had been briefed, this was to be their contact in the Holy Kingdom. As soon as they were within hailing distance, Lakyus called for a halt.

"Who goes there, friend or foe?"

The hooded rider paused, its mount rearing up as it was stopped. "A friend in need and a foe to fiends," came the reply.

"Then let us come together in friendship," came Lakyus's clear voice. She glanced at her groupmates, who nodded subtly. All seemed clear, for now.

"So you are the messengers?" said the rider, as it approached closer.

"Aye," Lakyus said. She narrowed her eyes. "Though it appears that this is a moment for second meetings. Well met once more, Remedios Custodios."

The rider paused, and then lifted up her hood to reveal her face. There indeed was the weathered, grime-stained face of Remedios Custodios, former grandmaster of the paladin order.

"Blue Rose," she said, with narrowed eyes. "Well met indeed."

---

Chapter commissioned by UltraSpink of Da USA, thank you. A reminder that the story is commissioned.

If you'd like a story commissioned, feel free to contact me here, or on archiveofourown under "RHoldhous".