Breeding Issues

by The Ruff Pusher

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

22. Chapter 22

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.

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High in the skies above the Re-Estize Kingdom floated a peculiar shape. It was small and compact, rather like a suit of armor flying without wings or some other form of propulsion or aid. As it shot through the clouds with the swiftness of an arrow, its passage was completely missed, even by those who might have chanced to look at the sky on that exact moment. After all, the average human would not be able to see the flight of an arrow speeding past.

The sleek combat suit was a thing of wonder, easily something that would have been sold for the price of a small nation. It was an artifact of unsurpassed quality, gleaming with the brilliance of a thousand jewels. And it was not just a beautiful ornament capable of flight. Beneath its burnished surface were a host of functions that one would have never expected a suit of armor to possess, even when discounting the fact that it could just fly in the air like a bird. It could utilize a host of powerful spells to enhance itself through various means, or to fire off destructive magic. Its enchantments made it impervious to all but the most powerful strikes or blows, and was resistant to other magic besides. Furthermore, any human wielding it would be completely unencumbered, as if they were not wearing heavy plate armor at all.

The will currently possessing this "Power Suit" belonged to none other than the Platinum Dragon Lord. It manipulated the suit of armor as a puppeteer might a highly advanced puppet, while the Dragon itself was located far away in its lair at Eryuentia. Through advanced Wild Magic, it could see through the Power Suit itself as if it was the one flying inside the puppet. Despite the Suit having dubious origins, it was still relatively easy for a Dragon to exert control over it and take over its functions just as if it was a human inside wearing it.

The Suit itself was one of many that had been unearthed from the Silent City Eryuentia. The Dragon Lord was unsure what purpose these objects served the City's original masters, but they were of sufficient number that one could easily assume they were to be used as part of an army. Despite plumbing the City's secrets for as long as it had, there were many other layers and chambers barred to it to this very day, perhaps hiding more Suits—or things even more nefarious. That was why it was important to hide and protect this trove of forbidden artifacts, that nothing within it may be unleashed to torment the world at large.

To the Dragon Lord, it seemed only right that a tool used by the dreaded Greed Kings would be used today. Those did belong, after all, to that most odious race of Players, wanton invaders who cared for nothing but upsetting the natural harmony of the world. The Platinum Dragon Lord had been young in its power when it had helped confront the demigods, and had witnessed the demise of many a dragon at their hands. Therefore, to turn a tool used by Players against another Player seemed only right and proper.

For there was no doubt in its mind that this Sorcerer-King, this lich lord who had suddenly appeared and declared his own nation, was yet another one of these "Players" come to torment the world anew. Just as the rest that came before, they cared nothing for the status quo of the world they entered. This one alone had conquered several nations in the blink of an eye. Had the dragon not roused itself from its rest, it may well have conquered this particular part of the world in less time than it took to blink, which would have made it harder to deal with than the Greed Kings.

The Platinum Dragon Lord had bided its time since it became aware of the Player. It had no means to observe the Player's ability from afar, which meant that searching for its lair and directly confronting it would only lead to a swift defeat. It needed to be cautious and canny, using its many proxies and spies to gather information.

This so-called War was then a boon, as the Sorcerer-King was sure to draw itself out and make itself seen, as the Dragon expected it to do. It had known that Players were universally afflicted by misguided Pride, even those who had benevolent intentions, such as the Six Gods. This was therefore the most opportune moment to strike—to at the very least draw out even more of its power in a prolonged conflict, so as best to seek out any weaknesses. The Dragon had learned from the time of the Greed Kings' subjugation, when many lesser Dragons had fallen for their arrogance, that patience was the most important thing to have when dealing with these demigods.

Thus, the Power Suit would make for a fine tool. It was powerful enough to hopefully take on several hits from the enemy. It was also relatively safe for the Dragon Lord, as even the armor's defeat or destruction would not hurt it in the slightest. And in return it would gain valuable insight into the enemy.

The Dragon had ordered the Suit to begin its southward flight from the borders of the Argland Council State far to the north of the Re-Estize Kingdom. It did not yet know what capabilities this Ainz possessed, but if it could sense the arrival of an unknown being from afar, then it would be better to make it think it was coming from a place that was known to him—but out of his reach at the same time. Argland was not yet making any overt movements towards the Sorcerous Kingdom, so it was still relatively neutral. But if this Ainz meant to take offense at the Suit, then it could not simply make loud demands without drawing the ire of other nations. At the very least, the Dragon expected this Player to act logically and not antagonize the entire continent just yet.

Though if it did, then the Dragon's job would become a whole lot easier.

Almost immediately it was able to observe the Re-Estize's frontier towns, and saw that even here, so close to the border to another nation, the Sorcerer-King's forces had already conquered it. The telltale presence of the undead lord's flag flying high and proud over the structures told the tale. It was also able to spot a few of its undead soldiers loitering around, guarding their master's prize.

For a brief moment, the Dragon Lord was filled with righteous rage at the sight of so many symbols of evil defiling the surface of an innocent town. It harkened to mind a memory from many centuries past—as mortals reckoned it. Yet for the dragon it was a recent memory, and that was why it yet burned bright, as of a man remembering an adventure a week past.

Oh yes, it had been something of an adventure. There had been a man, one of two Players. He had arrived in this world like so many before, and had been poised to wreak great change no matter what he did. But unlike his predecessors, this Player walked a different path.

His was the path of a true hero.

He was a brilliant star that gathered many others to his side. Thus, did he strive to better the world by wandering the lands and using his enormous powers to do good where others might have been tempted to perform basest evil. They went from nation to nation, inspiring mortals as they went, vanquishing the foul and the corrupt, true; but ever were his actions driven more by kindness than by vengeance or righteousness.

As the Platinum Dragon-Lord it had been its duty to safeguard the world from the Players' depredations no matter the cost. It was a grave duty, handed down by the dragons of old, whose visions of eternity had been shattered by the arrival of the Players. It had sensed the arrival of this new Player, and therefore it was duty-bound to immediately go to observe it from afar through many disguises.

It had been fascinating to watch, as the dragon had recognized the telltale signs of the two Players. And yet it was surprised that for all their strength they did not wish to destroy or dominate. Even the Six Gods had kindled righteous fury in the humans, that drove them to wage war on others for their own ends. Yet here was the Player and his friend, doing what good they could, even sacrificing much of themselves to do it. And though not all the people they met were flawless or selfless, they could still effect a positive change upon the world. Lives that fate might once have condemned to ruinous, destructive evil, or otherwise cut short by needless tragedy; these were all given a second chance to thrive, to do better, just by the Player's mere words and deeds.

And it was beautiful to behold, like a gem most treasured among one's horde. The dragon's heart softened, and thus did it resolve to protect the Player and its comrades, lending aid first as a stranger, then as a trusted friend. In time, it might have been something more—and then perhaps…

No. Such feelings had not borne fruit. Friendship had been the utmost it could manage.

For alas, this Player had been undone, as had happened to all of them. And this time it was not by one of the dragon's kin, or by other malevolent things.

It had been betrayal of a most perplexing kind. And to this day, the dragon could not comprehend how friend could turn against friend. Had the dragon simply misjudged the situation?

Regardless, that had been the end of that star, and of its travels. It had put an end to the fellowship, and the Dragon-Lord had been forced to perform its duty, destroying the betrayer. Not for revenge, but to put down a threat to the world, like all Players before it, for this one had schemed to take over the world, as many others had done before.

Such a waste of a life, a grand adventure cut so short, a kind soul gone too early. The Dragon-Lord could only mourn for what could have been, could only ensure that its artifacts were not stolen and misused; and that the Thirteen Heroes' deeds would never be erased or forgotten. For in the aftermath of his demise, many nations, who had been inconvenienced in some way by their actions, had plotted to vilify their acts, to record falsehoods about their lives in posterity. These did the dragon destroy as was its right as an elder race, though it was easy enough to allow their evil to be extinguished by their own corrupt ambitions. The dragon just gave a tiny push.

None would remember the Thirteen Heroes as anything but their true selves.

After the necessary things were done, it returned to Eryuentia, its thoughts forever dimmed by the tragic loss of so brilliant a soul. It would brood for some time, consumed with self-doubt and anger, almost tempted to arise in vengeance to destroy everything. And yet, it remembered that treasured nobility, and therefore returned to itself, to ponder the question.

Could such nobility ever return?

The Dragon-Lord emerged from its introspection with an audible sigh deep within its lair. For as many lives it had watched from afar, the petty vicissitudes that crowned each and every one of these mortals, only one had seemed like a crown jewel. And he was even a Player.

If "he" had still been here, then perhaps this world would look miles better.

The Dragon-Lord discarded those thoughts and urged its puppet to move along, passing over towns in search of one that was unoccupied. It hoped to find one where the army was in the process of conquering it, so as to better observe how this Sorcerous Kingdom worked. And better, still, if the Sorcerer-King himself was present.

Yet, after close to an hour of flying and observing, it was forced to conclude that the Sorcerer-King's forces had inexplicably moved fast, faster than what was normally expected for an army deployment. Every town around the large area north to northwest of the Capital bore the dread banner of the Sorcerer-King. And yet there was no army nearby to observe, meaning that after each occupation, the army had already left, moving onward to the next conquest. It implied a lot of unpleasant things, not the least of which was that this invasion had been pre-planned all along.

And with that, the dragon moved to ordering the Suit to fly along and search for the Sorcerer-King's armies on the move instead. If she was able to track one such army, eventually it would lead to some encampment or fort where the Sorcerer-King himself would be present.

And so, it flew towards the most logical place where an army might be gathering, the Capital City.

With its flight speed, it was able to reach the Capital in only a few minutes. Once flying right above, it activated the Suit's invisibility spell and drifted down to land on the ramparts of the city's outer wall. It used its shared senses to survey the city, seeing, hearing, even tasting the scents in the air with its draconic senses. It could even smell the emotions in the air, though to a lesser extent. Fear dominated the city, so thick it almost made the dragon retch in its lair.

It found no immediate trace of a battle between armies. There were some small-scale fights, but they seemed more like the petty skirmishes that these mortals engaged in foolishly, and not actually the sign of an invading army.

Turning its senses about, the dragon surveyed the land surrounding the capital, towards the rolling plains that was emblematic of the Re-Estize Kingdom's prosperity. In the past, many kingdoms had fought over this fertile land, watering the soil with blood. That the Re-Estize Kingdom had ended up dominating this land was a miracle. It was therefore quite tragic for this one to be poised on the brink of destruction by a malevolent force.

It could sense nothing still. There was no presence of an enemy army, only a few scattered garrisons that likely belonged to the Re-Estize Kingdom.

If the Dragon were a human, it would have scratched its head in confusion. The Dragon-Lord performed its equivalent by blinking once within its lair, feeling thoroughly surprised.

Feeling that something was very much amiss, the Dragon commanded the Suit to rise back to the sky, whereupon it dismissed its invisibility. Sensing it had no choice, it then reattuned its senses towards something else—opening a communications channel with another mind.

"It is I, Azuth Aindra," it announced.

"My lord," replied the human on the other end of the communication. Its voice was smooth, sophisticated, as if he was a well-educated noble—which he was, in truth. "I am humbly at your service."

"How goes the situation on your end?" the dragon queried.

The man on the other side was one of the many humans that had been personally gifted by the Dragon-Lord, Azuth Aindra. He was an adventurer of some note, and a great warrior among his species.

The Platinum Dragon-Lord had begun the practice of distributing its aid to worthy mortals after the time of the Thirteen Heroes. It had seen the good that a motivated mortal might do, even when their aims and goals were more self-centered than what one might expect of would-be heroes. Still, it did not matter as long as their desires could be appropriately funneled towards meaningful ends, most of which served the Dragon-Lord's greater agenda. It would exploit and manipulate their minds and hearts so that even if they could not hold a candle to the Player who had come before, they could still serve the greater good in their own ways.

Usually, the Dragon-Lord's secret contacts all over the world would report to it and bring news about promising mortals who had proven themselves in some way. The dragon would then observe these mortals firsthand, to judge for itself whether or not its potential would make up for any petty desires or biases it possessed.

When it was satisfied that the mortal was worthy, it would then issue a series of tests and trials for the mortal, to witness the exertion of its power or intelligence. Potential was one thing, but they must also prove themselves worthy of being granted the dragon's favor. The gauntlet was also intended to inspire them in the end with the heroism that had exemplified the Thirteen Heroes; to its disappointment, none really took up the call.

Still, it had to make do with what was present. Should the prospective mortal complete the gauntlet of trials, then they would be invited to Eryuentia. There, the dragon would reveal itself and present its gift of an ancient artifact to the triumphant hero, alongside a grave stipulation that should the Dragon-Lord require their aid, then they would heed the call—or forfeit their right to the treasures.

Generally, there had been no problems with the champions it had bestowed gifts over the years. They had all fulfilled the dragon's purposes in one way or another. Upon their demise the dragon was always careful to extract the artifact from their possession and bring it back into the collection, to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. In this way, the Thirteen would live on, even in spirit, among these "heroes" who would remain oblivious to their role in the dragon's plans.

The very latest mortal who was of interest to the Dragon had been someone named Momon, who had also appeared somewhere in the Re-Estize Kingdom. Unfortunately, it had been distracted by certain other events, such as the appearance of that powerful vampire, so it couldn't give the human a proper observation. Though perhaps this Momon would end up playing a part in all of this later on.

The human Azuth Aindra had earned the right to wield yet another Powered Suit. Unlike the Dragon, the human Azuth wore the armor directly over his body, and had used it to great effect in subtly enforcing the Dragon-Lord's will. His personality left something to be desired. Yet the human seemed very much grateful for the honor of being gifted a sacred artifact. He was always ready to heed the Dragon's call when something needed doing. Perhaps it spoke to some innate desire of heroism deep beneath his soul. Time would tell.

He had been chosen on this particular time because of his connection to the Re-Estize Kingdom. The dragon hoped that this connection would allow it to rise to the occasion above his limits, as he would ostensibly be fighting for his homeland.

"I have been observing the Sorcerer-King's army as per your suggestion," the man said in a drawling voice. "There is something remarkable to report—the army moves fast over the land, and is somehow so tireless that it never stops. I suspect this is because the creature has organized a host of undead that nothing in this world has ever seen before. As expected, they can indeed march fast and relentlessly, needing no rest nor food nor drink to stay active. 'Tis a mighty frightening thought that an army like this exists, all things considered."

The Dragon grumbled. That was always a problem with those who dabbled in the forbidden arts of necromancy. Even dragon-lords were not immune to the allure of holding power over life and death itself. "Hmm… yes, I have also observed the same thing. Have you observed a battle?"

"Unfortunately not, my lord. I have been shadowing several marching armies at once, and aside from withdrawing into their camps, they've done nothing of note."

"Do you think they are preparing to march on the Capital City?"

"For these lot I'm observing? Probably not. But I haven't seen much, for I've only been watching these armies. 'Tis a vast land to cover, and the Sorcerer-King has many armies it seems. Mine eyes can only see so far, even augmented by this armor."

In its lair, the Dragon-Lord made a rumbling sound as if it were grumbling. "Hmph. Very well. Continue to monitor on your end. I shall go ahead and find some other army to observe. Ending transmission."

"Until later, my lord," the man said.

The dragon paused to think. It seemed quite strange that the Sorcerer-King hadn't massed its armies to besiege the Capital yet. Judging from the towns it had already captured, the army had already moved close enough that it was only a day's march from any direction to appear outside the Capital City's walls. Yet there was no significant presence of forces nearby from where the Dragon could sense. What on earth was happening? What was that damnable thing planning?

With but a simple exertion of thought, it directed the Suit to fly back north, back towards one of the occupied towns, as if it could find new clues through much closer observation. It moved from one town to the next, its sharp eyes missing nothing—and yet also finding naught else.

Still, in passing, it was able to note a certain thing, much to its confusion. There was one thing common among the towns it was able to visit discreetly. The occupation did not seem to be harsh, as the inhabitants did not look like they were being forced to do anything. Certainly, it could sense extreme duress, as was only natural. But in some towns, she could observe the mortals walking along and talking normally. Some were even working openly, as if nothing was ever amiss, even despite their tense circumstances.

Nor had she seen the occupying forces carrying out massacres, nor could she sense the blood and anguish of the recently slain within the town itself. Such traumatic events were usually followed by a potent stench of negative energy that a Dragon could scent like any other. Even despots carrying out secret killings that a normal human would not be able to detect would still leave indelible prints which a powerful Dragon could catch.

And yet, there was nothing.

If there was anything that looked foul, it was old, too old to be anything the Sorcerous Kingdom had done. And that meant the towns had been occupied in a relatively bloodless manner. Had the towns really surrendered in the face of this overwhelming evil?

While cloaked within the magics of invisibility, it walked through the streets of one particular town. The dragon tried to seek out centers of sorrow, of grief, of unbridled fear. It wanted to see if hostages had been taken, to ensure the compliance of the townspeople.

And yet it found no such thing.

Was there any foul play afoot? Had the Sorcerer-King managed to do something to their minds, binding them to its oppressive will?

While still invisible, it reached out, trying to find any trace of the strange magic that the Players inevitably brought with them, most often brought to bear upon the innocent inhabitants of this world. This magic had tainted the world, twisting its very nature into something that was utterly alien to what it had been before. When brought to bear against mere mortals, it was no wonder they would easily succumb.

And yet, it found nothing still.

Mentally, the Dragon did the equivalent of shaking its head to get rid of loose thoughts. Only rarely had it ever been this bewildered by something. And yet, there was no time to ruminate, as action was still needed. Every minute wasted was one that the Sorcerer-King was free to use for his own nefarious ends.

It put its musings to the back of its mind and focused on the Suit once more, causing it to rise into the air, before speeding off in a new direction.

This time, it continued south, skirting the Capital City to the east while continuing to stop over each town.

"There!"

With a burst of focus, the Dragon was able to spot the appearance of a great number of bodies down below, marching on an open field. At last, it was able to locate what was unmistakably an army.

Its mental elation at finding one of the Sorcerer-King's armies proved to be short-lived, however. After a few moments of observation, it was able to discern that the majority of the humans down below did not actually belong to the Sorcerer-King, judging by the flags and heraldry they wore. They were actually soldiers of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

But then it was also able to see that the Sorcerer-King's minions were also present, albeit at a smaller number. At that, it reached the only conclusion that was available: this was a captured Re-Estize army that had surrendered without fighting, and the Sorcerer-King's soldiers were simply leading the prisoners towards some other place.

The Dragon snorted. While it would be interesting to observe what they planned to do with the prisoners, this would be merely wasting its time and effort. It needed to find an actual army, and from there discern if the Sorcerer-King was present. As such, the dragon needed to find a marching army that seemed about to besiege the capital, or at the least fight a battle, not escort prisoners.

Where was this army? Had the dragon gotten the timing wrong? It had judged this day to be the right time to soar above the skies using the Powered Suit, to intercept the Sorcerer-King. It was certain that the Player would be present at the head of the army, after it had already ravaged through the entirety of the Re-Estize Kingdom to reach the Capital. Yet there was no army. Was the Player biding its time?

Just when it was about to return to the Capital and search on another vector, its eye caught something moving within the ranks of the assembled forces down below. It was so distinct that it felt strange to have completely missed its presence on its first glance.

It was a figure wearing some sort of silver armor, reminiscent of the Dragon-Lord's own remote puppet it had routinely used to patrol the land. Its armor had a distinctly different design, and a long red cape that trailed behind it like a comet's tail. It was difficult to discern exactly who or what was wearing the armor underneath the burnished armor. But after a few more minutes of observation, the Dragon-Lord was reasonably sure that it had found some sort of commander or captain of this small army.

As it watched, the silver warrior along with a host of its black-armored subordinates detached themselves from the main force and started riding along the road mounted on horseback. They were headed in a northwest direction, away from the massed army.

For a moment, the Dragon dithered, before coming to a decision. The creature was unusual enough that it was reasonable to assume that it was important in some way. It decided to trail this silver-armored creature from above, hoping it would give some insights as to Ainz Ooal Gown's plans.

For several hours, the small riding party made good pace, unopposed by anything, and never stopping to give their mounts time to rest. They also met no other elements of the Sorcerer-King's army, which was rather disappointing. Still, at the end of the road, the dragon could spy some sort of fortress nestled within a series of hills, located some miles west of the Capital.

There, the dragon was able to see another army waiting just close by. The silver-armored figure's party approached it. And yet, to the Dragon's eyes it still did not look like the army it had been seeking. There were too few in numbers, and they were a fair distance away from the Capital.

After a few moments, the Dragon felt it had completely wasted its time. It had gone around chasing the wrong scent, and had discovered that this thing that had aroused its curiosity in the first place was quite inconsequential after all.

Yet just as it was about to leave and begin the heretofore fruitless search anew, she sensed a new communication channel forming, this time coming from Azuth Aindra rather than the other way around.

"My lord, I wish to report something important!" Azuth said, his voice sounding breathless, as if he had been running a far distance. A peculiar metaphor, as the Powered Suit had flight capabilities that largely negated the need for normal walking or running.

"What is it?"

"I've found the Sorcerer-King, my lord! I'm tracking him as we speak!"

"Indeed!" The Dragon-Lord withdrew from the Powered Suit it was puppeting, and then concentrated on Azuth's own Suit. It was a necessary precaution that the Dragon-Lord always had a way to mentally link with any of the Suits it had given away, to prevent its misuse. By doing this, it was also able to sense where exactly on the world a Suit could be. It would also allow the Dragon-Lord to immediately seize control over the Suit should there be any mischief involved. Thankfully, no user of a Suit had ever given the dragon cause to do this.

When it was able to pinpoint Azuth's location, it was instantly surprised.

Azuth was just close by!

"You are close to where I am, mortal," the Dragon-Lord announced. "I am but several miles directly east of you."

"What? Now that's quite interesting, my lord. I had no idea."

"Where is the Sorcerer-King from your position?"

"He's directly below me, so from you, that's due west. And he's somehow going northeast, on the road, going somewhere. Though I see…"

"The fortress on the hill, correct?" the dragon finished.

"Aye, that it is."

It was very obvious that the Sorcerer-King was heading along the road that led to this very garrison it was looking at, from the other side. It was very fortuitous, then, that the Dragon-Lord was already here, waiting. Had it not followed along to trail the strange, mysterious warrior, it might have been quite far from this place, and the Sorcerer-King would have been able to disappear off somewhere.

And yet, as it started to formulate a plan in its head, the dragon could not shake off the feeling creeping up inside its mind that it all seemed too convenient somehow. It was as if this had all been set up beforehand. As of a story being played out on some mortal stage, with all the actors and pieces leading the audience (which was the dragon) towards a certain conclusion.

It flared up the suspicions in its mind, even when logic dictated that there was no possible way that the dragon could have been anticipated. True, the Player might have long anticipated the arrival of an enemy, but surely it would not have been able to plan out all the steps? After all, the dragon's Powered Suit could have been anywhere else in the world by now. It would never have planned for someone to have been there to spot the silver-armored warrior; in the hopes that an observer would have followed that same warrior to this very location on this exact moment.

Unless the Player had been preparing for any sort of confrontation…

After a while, the Dragon-Lord discarded those thoughts. This was no time to second-guess. This was no time to give in to doubts, not when the target it had been seeking was here in front of it. It may not have found its main army, but it had still been able to find the Sorcerer-King himself. And if it could eliminate this Player, here and now, it could effectively cut off the head of the snake and end its brewing threat before it could engulf the world completely.

"Keep your eyes on the Sorcerer-King. I shall meet you right now."

The Dragon accordingly ordered its Suit to fly west to meet with Azuth Aindra, who was there as he had said.

"Hello again, my lord," Azuth greeted, as he floated high above the clouds. He made a waving gesture.

In the meantime, the dragon-lord kept its focus down below, where it could spot the nexus of negative energy exuded by the undead lord Ainz Ooal Gown. Yet strangely, it was not escorted by a large, prominent force, but by something smaller. When added to what the silver-armored warrior had brought, along with the small army that was already occupying the fort, this did not seem like a military force that would win anything but small engagements. So what was this one doing here?

Perhaps this was actually a good opportunity. Perhaps the Sorcerer-King was arrogant enough to believe that he was inviolate, and had therefore deigned to surround himself with his powerful army. It was also likely that this army was equal to an army ten times its size through sheer power, which meant that the dragon would have to take care. Or perhaps there was another reason for his presence here—there were over a dozen or more scenarios that the dragon could think of that could explain his being here at this precise moment and at this exact place.

What mattered now was that its initial goal had been achieved. And now, it was time to confront the Sorcerer-King. To glean whatever knowledge about its abilities. If possible, the dragon-lord would finish it off now. But if not, then it hoped to gain some measure of its ability so the next time would result in a surer outcome.

"There is a silver-armored warrior somewhere inside that encampment. Can you see it?"

"Hm?" Azuth paused as he used his Suit's power to see over long distances. "I… Yes, I think I see it. Rather obnoxious-looking, when placed against its fellows…"

"I suspect it is a high-ranking minion of sorts. A bodyguard," the dragon said. "When the time comes, you will need to draw it away and distract it for long enough while I confront Ainz Ooal Gown."

The human made a whistling sound. "Off to face the big bad already? You certainly are a brave one, my lord."

"I am no hero like you, mortal," the dragon snarled. Yes, even if it had personally known many heroes, many who were worthy of the title, the Dragon-Lord itself was no hero. It had its own agenda, and worked to fulfill it. It held no illusions that it was anything else. "But when there is a threat to be removed, then you can be sure that I can be as 'brave' as I want to be. Now, are you prepared?"

The armored form flexed its fingers. "I shall put on the greatest of shows, to grant you your private audience with the lich lord. With luck, perhaps I shall be able to aid you."

"Do not try to interfere," the dragon warned. "No matter what you might see. This is a foe that is beyond you. If you value your life and the armor you bear, then you will flee after your role is done. And be assured that I shall contact you again, no matter what happens."

Azuth made a bowing motion. "As you wish, my lord. I shall perform my role faithfully."

Once more, the dragon-lord looked down, regarding the distant form of Ainz Ooal Gown with cold, silent fury. It felt a slight thrill of trepidation, as now it would be able to confirm if this thing indeed was a Player, or if it were merely some powerful minion conjured by their ilk, as of the Demon Kings some centuries past.

Regardless of the truth, it would see its duty through. For the sake of the world and all who lived here—for all who had already sacrificed enough to see the future bloom.

"Make ready, mortal" it said, charging up the armor's energies. "And may victory see you through."

---

The last time she had seen Brain Unglaus had been at the very scene of her humiliation. Back then, the man had been a witness to her crushing defeat at the hands of the man standing right beside her. Were she in a more vengeful mood, she would have definitely tried exacting her pound of flesh right this very instant, utterly forgetting where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.

And yet, such thoughts soon dissipated like morning mist when she realized exactly what this situation looked like. For here in front of her was Brain Unglaus, who had been unquestionably on the side of "good" when he had lent his aid to raiding the Eight Fingers base. While she was still unsure of the exact details, she was definitely certain that Sebas had also been on Brain's side at that time. The man had been infuriatingly smug and self-assured when he had given up on their duel, implying that Sebas would definitely best Zero.

For her, it had been something of an insult, not knowing what exactly Sebas was. She had only known that Brain Unglaus was a man on par with the Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff, a man of no small infamy. Zero had been confident that she could go toe to toe with these men, though it certainly stood to reason that she would not emerge from the encounter unscathed. To have then been told by this same man that he would not be honoring their battle was a great insult. It was as if he had declared that she was "unfit for her blade", that she was too weak to be of notice. That this old man would be more than enough to beat her down.

Well, he ended up being right, the bastard, but that didn't make his attitude any less bothersome. And so, that bad memory festered inside her like a wound that refused to heal, despite everything that occurred afterwards. She had been humbled, in a way, but that didn't mean she would ever forgive the man for his enormous slight.

Still, right now there was some irony in this situation. For the shoe was now on the other foot: Sebas was firmly on the other side, and what was more: Zero was also working under him. For the majority of her life, she had always drunk off the fear and uncertainty of the weak she had confronted, knowing they were outclassed. Now, it returned full force, and she savored the small taste of vengeance as she watched those self-same emotions flicker on Brain's stupid face.

"Sebas…?" Brain said, his sword pointed right at the two of them. "Wha—is that you? Am I seeing things?"

Zero could praise the man for at least keeping his emotions in check. Even as he wore an expression of wide-eyed disbelief, he kept his body's posture erect and stable, his sword arm firm and sturdy, poised in a classic defensive form that had little openings that she could see. It was the mark of a proper swordsman, one who had trained for literal years to get to where he now stood; who stood firm despite facing down immense pressure. For that, Zero could not begrudge the man's strength of will.

And indeed, Brain Unglaus looked like he was staring down the most powerful creature that could be legally brought into the Arwintar Arena, alone, unaided, with the crowds roaring loudly in his ears. But there was no crowd here, no; yet the pressure must surely still be a lot more intense. Sebas Tian was a mountain of power cloaked in the appearance of a stately old butler, a monster for all intents and purposes.

Brain looked around him, at the bodies of the fallen, unconscious, their forms unmistakably those beaten by the ones standing here. She was sure that even the dimmest of fools would have recognized the sight and drawn the right conclusions. The two of them had not merely stumbled upon the scene of devastation by sheer luck or happenstance. They were not merely standing in the midst of all these bodies well after the fact of their falls. They were surely responsible for everything here, and that was the fact that was unquestionably burning a hole inside Brain. This was the source of his inner turmoil that was written plain on his face as piss on pure white snow.

"What is all this then?" Brain said. "What… Did you do all this?" His eyes turned to her, suspicious, as if he could pin everything on her, and not on Sebas; as if he was still refusing to believe what was right in front of his eyes.

"Brain Unglaus," Sebas Tian finally said, exhaling loudly. His expression remained the same—stern and unreadable—but it seemed to Zero that he was carefully considering his words. "It is certainly surprising to see you here. Your presence here is quite unexpected. Pray do tell me, what are you doing here in the Marquis' home? Are you a guest?"

"Sebas…" Brain said. "I… I'm here as part of a job. Well, several jobs actually. One official, and the other… it's strictly hush-hush. I can't really tell you about that particular thing. But officially, I'm also here to help with the guard detail… That Marquis over there footed the bill, so I couldn't exactly say no…"

"Very good. I thank you for being so forthright. You have my gratitude." Sebas cocked his head slightly. "But please do understand: as of this moment, it changes nothing. I must repay my gratitude to you some other day. Today, I am here to perform my duty. And you already know that I am completely dedicated to fulfilling it, no matter what sort of obstacle lies in my way. So please, stand down. I have no wish to fight you."

Brain flinched, as if he had already been struck. He stared at Sebas in wonder, as if he was only really seeing the man for the first time in his life. Zero could see his hands clench tighter around the hilt of his sword.

Then Brain glanced at her, his eyes passing over her body. He did a double take, as he spotted the tattoos on her skin. Had he recognized her?

"Oh… hmmm…" The man narrowed his eyes. "I… didn't know that Zero guy had a kid."

Of all the…!

She couldn't help it. Having been on the receiving end of similar disbelief from those fools before; and to now be hearing it from Brain Unglaus of all people made Zero burst out a loud, hooting cackle. She almost doubled over, as the pain that shot through her midsection as she struggled to restrain her laughter was almost too much to bear. The situation was so absurd that she could do nothing else but laugh.

"I…" she said, in between wheezes, "Cannot believe this day. Truly it is as if the gods are watching the performance of a comedy before their eyes. I only wish I could actually join in on the laughter, because the comedy is at my fucking expense." She shook her head, and after snorting one last time, she looked back at Brain. She pointed her finger at him.

"Now listen here. For your fucking information, and for the sake of the damned gods who might be listening in and laughing at this stupid situation, I am not Zero's child, love child, or bastard. Nor am I his sister, his mother, or his wife; nor any possible relation to man or beast! From the day I drew breath there has ever only been one of me. It was I alone who forged this body towards the pinnacle of combat. It was alone who inked the symbol of myriad demons and animals on my skin. Thus I remain, as ever, myself: I am Zero, I will always be Zero, leader of the Six Arms!"

Her proclamation was only met with slack-jawed bewilderment from Brain. "What the—" he spluttered. "What in the fuck are you talking about, you madwoman? Are you quite alright in the head? You can't… You can't honestly expect me to believe that you're what you say you are. I mean, look at you! You're a woman! Wearing the exact same tattoos, in the same exact places on your body, as Zero! If that's not something that runs in the family, that makes you some sort of copycat, or something even worse!" He snorted. "I know what this is. You're just trying to make me lower my guard through your words. Well, I'm not buying it. And such thoughts won't ever serve to distract me—even if you looked more beautiful, I wouldn't be distracted by a pretty face, and thank the gods you don't have one."

"Don't test me, fool-!" Zero snarled. "Another word from your mouth and—"

"It is the truth," Sebas suddenly said, his voice stern and no-nonsense. Brain stopped himself, and simply stared at Sebas in amazement.

"Wha… Even you… Sebas? But if that's the case then…" Then he looked again at her, and his expression turned to that of horror. "Urgh… gods…! I can't believe it! Never mind the how or the why… this is completely horrifying! Ugh!"

"Oh, so now you believe me because he said it?" she exclaimed. "You're really asking for it now, cocksucker!"

"Sebas… would not be making such jokes…" Brain muttered. "Not even lightly." He grimaced, and turned his attention back towards Sebas. "… But that's not important now. Sebas, please let me understand. Are you working with this one… with Zero, if you indeed speak true? And if this is indeed Zero, then why are you…? Weren't you enemies before? So why are you now with him?" His eyes then narrowed. "It can't be… Do the Eight Fingers have some dirt on you? Is that why they've got their best hound here? You fiends…!" He brandished his sword, and seemed about ready to impale Zero with it. "Don't worry, Sebas! I have friends who can help with that. They can help break free from their grip. And I will help you myself. It's about the only thing I can do to repay your help."

Zero then chuckled. Yet again the situation was so absurd that all she could do was laugh herself to death on it. Had this man of all people always assumed in that "good and evil" claptrap?0

"Why are you laughing?" Brain demanded indignantly.

She shook her head. "Oh, it's just how ridiculous you sound. It almost makes me want you to remain wallowing in your ignorance…" She still could, but this would actually be amusing at his expense now. "So, let me just relieve you of your illusions." She jerked a thumb towards Sebas. "You've got it all backwards. Currently, I'm working this job for him. So we're both working together on this. Everything you see here? It's all part of our duties. You watch and see he don't contradict you."

Brain looked expectantly at Sebas, who indeed didn't say anything to object to what Zero had said. At this, the man's shoulder sagged, as if he was about to sink down from all the weight of the revelations. Zero laughed at that, her voice almost going hoarse from all the laughing. But it wasn't as if the whole thing wasn't amusing.

Then, Brain's face changed: a raw, determined expression forming, his brow furrowing as a dark cloud of emotion brewed.

"Well, whichever the truth may be, I only know this. I don't know what you're doing here, or whatever it is you're planning, but I've got a role in here to do. And as a man and a swordsman of honor, it is my duty to fulfill that role to the best of my ability." He raised his sword, and his body went into proper form: a battle-ready stance that Zero recognized. "So that end, I'm sorry for this. But I shall oppose you, Sebas, no matter what. Even… Even if it's my turn now to die."

For a moment, Sebas only stared back serenely, matching Brain's determined expression with his own. Then his expression changed to that of a smile. He even chuckled, a deep booming sound that seemed to echo in the room. "I would have expected no less from you, Brain," he said. "We shall see, then, how much you have improved from before."

Zero could sense that there would be a battle, and that her contribution would be unwanted—nor less needed. Much as she wanted to give that man a piece of her mind, she didn't have the authority for it. Sebas would just get pissed at her, and where would she be with going back to how she was?

And so, she was compelled to ask, recalling their current mission: "So what about this guy?" she asked, gesturing to Marquis Pespea. "Ain't we on some sort of time table or somewhat?" They needed to dump him somewhere, and it wouldn't do if this fight somehow delayed things enough for them to lose Pespea.

Sebas seemed to think on that for a moment. "It is alright. The plan has already moved on to its latter stages. We have plenty of time yet." He glanced at the fallen Marquis. "But do please secure him for me, would you?"

She cricked her neck from left to right. "Alright, will do, boss." She moved towards the Marquis' body.

"Hey!" From the corner of her eye, she sensed Brain dart forward, like some damned snake, his sword flashing. She made to react, to defend herself with a well-placed kick, but she was preempted by another.

In that exact same moment, too quick for even her eyes to catch, Sebas stood there before her, standing so tall and placid that it was as if he had merely taken a single step forward. He was like a shadow that suddenly grew real, not even displacing the air around him to mark his passage. His sudden presence made the swordsman stop, his sword paused in midair as his wide eyes took in Sebas' presence.

"Hnn… You think you can just do that?" Brain snarled. His voice had taken on an edge as sharp as his own blade's. "By my honor as a swordsman, I will stop you! All of you!"

Sebas said nothing in response. He only adjusted the gloves on his hands, and met Brain's determined stare with his own. Zero smiled and stepped back, dragging the Marquis' limp body with her like it was just a sack of meat. She was just in time, as the action started almost immediately on that moment. Brain did not waste any more words and instead launched an all-out assault, and Zero could clearly hear the faint keen of his sword as it swung through the air.

When she looked up, the battle had begun in earnest. Though to her experienced eyes, it was no less a "battle" than the flailing of a novice, and the implacable strength of the veteran who decided to humor said novice.

The space inside this room was small, barely enough for Brain to swing his sword. It would be very foolhardy for common soldiers and knights to fight in this situation, as it was very easy for a sword to strike a wall and spoil one's aim. Or even worse, to get stuck on something wooden, giving an opponent a precious opportunity to strike. Zero had even used such failings to her advantage—most notably in the siege of Marquis Raeven's mansion, when the clustered ranks of soldiers in that crowded corridor had caused blades to hit the wall uselessly, or even strike their fellows in the side or back.

On the other hand, an expert swordsman, especially one who was alone, could turn the small space to their advantage. As long as it was not too small that it was impossible to swing one's swords, such an individual could become a terror to fight in close quarters. They could use the length and reach of one's blade to cover nearly all approaches, hampering his enemy's available space and movement to their ultimate advantage. Of course, one could always endure and hope that exhaustion would sap away at the swordsman's stamina, or if one had any little magic of their own, they could certainly eke out an escape, or win perhaps.

But that was still a tall order, and any thug worth their salt would sweat to think of such a situation where backup was not guaranteed; and the one thing that lay between them and salvation was an expert duelist looking to gut you. Mind, there had been stories of lucky bastards getting a good shot in, yet the best advice among the hooligans of the Eight Fingers was: what the fuck are you doing getting caught like that in the first place, you damned idiot?

And in the case of a master like Brain, this type of situation could end up being quite deadly indeed. No doubt he had lots of techniques to completely demolish those of superior skill. And he would, of course, be canny enough to expect the threat of magic. He would be protected from smaller-scale spells through simple protective talismans, or could even have invested in actual enchanted gear. In any case, he would actually choose to escape himself if the situation was bad, and end up actually making it. In this type of situation, he called the shots, and unless you were simply better than him, or had some ace up your sleeve that could turn the tide; he would end up running you through with that sword no matter what.

The conventional wisdom in Zero's mind, when faced with such a situation, was to not. To go the other way, to escape and find better, more advantageous ground. Even she was not confident in close quarters against a master swordsman—though she knew she could somehow land the killing blow; she might not come away from the fight completely unscathed. It was too cramped a space, and incidentally not small enough for Brain's sword to be hampered by walls or other structures. It was exactly the sort of close-quarter combat that would make any melee dangerous.

Admittedly, it would have been nice to attempt to avenge herself on the man, even if it might end up with his sword in his gut. But if she had been alone facing this guy down in this place, she would've definitely punched her way out to find more advantageous locations. It was ever the rogue's prerogative never to be caught with one's pants down like some buffoon.

And still, once more it was abundantly clear that all Zero's preconceptions amounted to nothing when faced with the reality of Sebas Tian and his unparalleled skills. Whether a brawler like herself or a master swordsman like Brain, he proved to be unparalleled in melee, an opponent without equal; and it showed right there in the duel in front of her.

It seemed like no mere feat to completely dodge each and every one of Brain's strikes. In such a tight space it would have made sense for him to block, or to use his power to force Brain backward, to create an opening for himself. And yet he still managed it, the bastard, through means she couldn't see with her own eyes. As the sparks flew, it became ever clearer that the man existed on a level that no human being could comprehend.

And judging by the look on poor Brain's face, he was also realizing the exact same thing.

Zero could only watch, amazed, at what a true monster was capable of. She'd heard tales of the Arena's champions over at Arwintar, where demihumans could be said to move as quick as lightning, or where brutes could swing axes the size of a small hill. She had been no skeptic to doubt such assertions, but hearing about it inside a tavern over drinks was quite different from witnessing it yourself with all your senses. Here was a tale come to life, embodied in Sebas Tian.

Sebas was as air itself, a gust of wind which no blade could really cut, nearly forming after-images with every step and counter-step he made.

Sebas was as water, his limbs neatly flowing through and out, under and over Brain's attacks, redirecting his position without losing the fluidity of his motions.

And yet he was also as firm and unyielding as earth, never once unbalanced from either Brain's attempts or through his own movements, his poise undeterred and unflinching.

Perhaps the only element missing from him was burning determination akin to raging flames, for it was clear that Brain was not the sort of enemy that could make Sebas' feelings soar to a boiling edge. Rather, Sebas remained cool and uncompromising as ice, staring down Brain with the same unflinching gaze as ever, utterly confident in his own skills.

Zero had met a few people whom he considered better than her. One of these had been her old master, whose mastery over the brawling arts had been second to none. It had been a shame to see such strength laid to waste, when she had been ordered to poison the old coot for defying debts like a fool. But it had reminded her that even the greatest of warriors could still be felled; that there existed no man or woman that did not have a chink in their armor that a small dagger or a loathsome curse could pierce.

In playing witness to Sebas, however, such wisdom in her mind lost their certainty. If Sebas had a weakness, she did not see it. It brought to mind a small, chilling thought: what sort of monster was it who could equal, or overcome such strength?

"Damn! It!" Brain said later, falling back and taking a pause, his breaths now coming out in shallow wheezes and gasps. His face lined with perspiration, and cramped from all the movement he'd had to do. Sebas still stood in front of him, looking utterly unfazed in contrast, with not even a hint of exertion nor a touch of anything on his suit. "Even with all I learned, I'm still…? Gah!" He lurched forward, as if he was about to collapse, but righted himself just in time to stop from sprawling disgracefully on the floor.

"…On the contrary, good sir, it appears you have improved since then," Sebas said, good-naturedly. "Your technique, I sense, is quite impeccable, almost flawless." Zero almost laughed out loud at that—it really seemed that Sebas was trying to comfort a man after spectacular failure. But laughing now didn't seem like a good idea.

"'Almost'," Brain replied, sounding derisive. "'Almost' but not enough. But I thank you for humoring me. Coming from you, I feel like it actually means something." For a moment, Zero thought he would be surrendering. Then he raised his sword and brought it to his side, its tip pointed towards Sebas. She recognized it as the beginning of some sort of technique, as a look of pure focus came over Brain's expression. He took a deep breath, as if he was winding himself up, pooling his energy within him.

Sebas' eyes narrowed a fraction, as he too seemed to have recognized Brain's attempt. "I see. Your resolve is admirable." He stepped forward, then for the first time in the battle put up his fists. His body sank a bit, his legs bending in a power stance. It was the very first time that she'd seen him look anything like he was preparing to fight, seriously at that.

"If that shall be your best and final attack, then come at me with the last and greatest of your strength!" Sebas then barked, his voice thundering throughout the chamber. "But know that I, too, shall not hold back. In recognition of your valor and your honor, I shall also strike you in return. And in doing so, I shall definitely defeat you. So if you do not wish to fall, then pour all you have in your strike. Hold nothing back, for I will not."

"I thank you for that, Sebas," Brain said, inclining his head in acknowledgement.

There was a pause, as if the whole world was waiting on baited breath. The tension surrounding the two combatants was charged, as if a thunderstorm were brewing.

"Here I go! This was a technique that I always wanted to use against him. But now, there is no greater chance! I must give it my all!" Brain's body coiled, his muscles pulling inward before his body exploded into motion. "Wind of the Great Forest!" came the shout, and there came a flurry of light, of myriad slashes flashing wildly and without pattern; as of the leaves of a forest blown by a mighty gust. And yet it seemed clear that such strikes had as little chance to actually hit Sebas as before. It seemed quite obnoxious, and in her opinion a disappointing showing from the swordsman.

"Wait…" Zero almost shouted, his mind realizing. The dance of blades' purpose was not to hit, but to distract. It was an obnoxious set of flourishes, each looking haphazard, each thrown with calculated risk. It was all to mask the final approach, the final strike—one made to hit an enemy distracted by the dance.

If she had been the one facing such an attack, she would probably not have reached the same conclusion, or if she did, it would have come a bit too late. She would have attempted to match the attack with any of her techniques, with the full intent of blocking the strikes. She would have been completely unaware that all of it was merely a smoke-screen, and that the actual strike would be coming in just an instant later.

"Haaaah…!"

Still, even with Zero's realization, it was clear who the winner would be. One needed only look at the result of the clash, as Brain's final strike cut into Sebas's shoulder.

With Brain's strength, and his skill with the blade, such a strike would have "clear-cut" effects. It could cleave straight through armor, and once pierced, it would carve through flesh as a butcher's blade. If he were strong enough, his strike would end up bisecting Sebas entirely, cleaving him in two. At worst, it would slice through Sebas' precious heart, though in either case death would have come swiftly. Everything was decided the moment he unleashed the final strike of his technique.

Or it should have, as was expected. And yet, in the last moment, as the blade made contact with the cloth, it shattered into many pieces, as if it was glass being smashed into a stone wall. Brain's look of surprise was comical in the very brief moment she witnessed it. She could almost sense Brain's thoughts: that from the start he had never really stood a chance.

It was only for a brief moment, as it was then that Sebas reacted.

"A worthy strike," Sebas said, before his hand lashed out, like a swinging hammer, knocking into the back of Brain's head. The swordsman, still clinging to the hilt of his shattered sword, fell forward onto the ground with a grunt of pain, completely unconscious.

In the silence that followed, Zero started clapping her hands. "Well. A fine display, my lord. A fine display. Though perhaps I may be allowed to offer an opinion?" At Sebas' silent grunt, she continued, "It looked as if you allowed that battle to continue on longer than was needed. Even allowed him to show off a bit. Why was that? Had Brain truly exceeded his limits and grown stronger? Or were you only humoring his efforts?"

Sebas glanced at her, but said nothing. Instead, the next thing that came out of his mouth was, "…Now that the threat has been neutralized, we must continue on with the plan. It was a small diversion, but it was a diversion nonetheless."

Knowing that her inquiry had been dismissed completely, she nodded, and turned to the Marquis' body beside her. Acting almost impulsively, she reached out a hand and snapped the unfortunate's neck. The man died quickly.

She looked up and met Sebas' eyes. They were cold and narrowed.

"And why did you just do that?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "We both know you were just dumping the people we kidnapped. If he really was useful to you guys, we would have booked it through the portal just like that Marquis Raeven. The fact that this guy was just knocked out means that you don't really need him as much. So why bother keeping him alive?"

Sebas did not look like he was convinced, making Zero sweat a bit. Had she been a bit too farward?

Then, the butler shrugged and looked away. "It is true that he had no other use for us other than his disappearance. If there was to be some use for him then it would be for a cause more horrifying than he would ever expect." He sighed. "I suppose it is doing him a favor that he need not experience 'his' particular version of hell."

"'His'?" Zero asked. "You talking about your boss?"

"Oh, good heavens no. He is a far kinder Master than any of us deserve. No, I don't think you need to know about the 'he' I refer to." Sebas smiled grimly. "Now then, let us away from this place." He took a scroll and activated it, before whispering something under his breath.

A Gate opened in front of them both. Zero expected to see many things emerge from inside the doorway—he had certainly seen his fair share during this mission. Perhaps it would be that strange maid with the chiffon hair, who had given her these things to hold up her boobs.

What he did not expect was another diminutive woman wearing maid clothes to appear from inside the swirling door of magic. She had long hair, and was wearing some sort of eyepatch over her face. Her one visible eye was cold and emotionless as it glanced towards him, then towards Sebas. It was clear that this was another fellow minion of Sebas.

"I am here, on time, in accordance with the plan," the maid announced.

"Please secure this one," Sebas said, gesturing to Brain. "And have the others take care of the corpse over there by her side." Zero blinked, surprised, as the maid followed Sebas' gesture to the body. She shrugged and went over to the body. Zero was treated to yet another surprise as the woman casually lifted Brain's body—which was easily over twice her weight, and carted him high over her head like it was a sack of potatoes.

"Target secured," she announced.

"Very good," Sebas said, nodding his head. Some more creatures emerged from the portal, but they were ones Zero had already seen before. She stepped aside as they approached the now-dead Marquis, and unceremoniously lifted his body to take it back to the portal. They went in first.

Sebas nodded. "Come along now. Time for us to return."

Zero followed the two as they disappeared into the rift, leaving Marquis Pespea's mansion behind. As far as she was concerned, that was one mission completed.

---

For a moment, all was light. Sebas' eyes adjusted quickly to the flash, and in the next moment he able to see that they were back in familiar environs. They were now inside one of Nazarick's great, austere halls, silent and eminent. Beside him, Zero looked around warily, as if she were sizing up any oncoming threats.

"Wait, where is this?" she exclaimed, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Where are those guys that were just with us? Didn't we cross that rift thing together?"

"They did," Sebas stated plainly. "But they were made to appear somewhere else. It was already arranged beforehand according to the schedule. They are needed there, and we are to be here."

He was a little unsure about the fate of the Marquis, their target. But the orders had not specified that he be alive or dead, only that he was removed without a trace. If he had been alive, then the only place he'd go would be Demiurge's little pet project, which was a fate he would never wish on any human, no matter their crimes. A quick death was preferable, and in this case, Zero had done the necessary step that he had hesitated to do, especially for the countless others who had already been kidnapped, and were now most likely receiving various torments. At least his corpse would serve Ainz-sama better as another footsoldier to add to his armies.

Brain, on the other hand, had been a bit of an impulsive addition. He had not really expected him to show up, and yet he could not just leave the man behind. The Master always said to look out for exceptional individuals. In this case, Brain was one such person who might be interesting for the Master. And if he were not, then Sebas would petition to grant Brain a place under Sebas, as a new warrior.

It was yet another mercy he wanted to grant someone he knew. The Re-Estize Kingdom would not survive another week, by his accounting. If Brain had been left behind, then he would have surely died in some way. Better for him to find new purpose—if he wanted it.

"… I see." Zero sniffed. "Well, what are we gonna do now? Got another mission lined up?"

"Not for now, no," Sebas said, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. "But you are not to be released from orders yet, so you shall remain on standby under my commands. With that said, you must follow along with me for now."

"You got it boss," Zero drawled, following along behind Sebas as he started walking.

As they walked along, Sebas started to notice that Zero was huddling close to him, her formidable body seeming to tremble as they walked together. For a moment, he wanted to inquire as to her feelings, but reasoned that she was probably relieving her moments inside Nazarick—when Demiurge's torture was the one and only constant. Yet another reason why he would spare the fate of those kidnapped from sharing the same fates.

It did not take long for them to meet someone else on the hall. Sebas had been expecting it; as this way led close to the area where Ainz's Mothers were meant to be: the Mother's Hall.

A diminutive figure waddled down the hall intersecting the one they were on. It was a woman Sebas recognized instantly: a blonde who had come from outside. Well, there were multiple blondes, but Sebas was certain that this particular one was named Clementine. Her eyes gave her away: they looked a bit too cold and vicious, like a born killer. In several ways she was reminiscent of Shalltear Bloodfallen, though to Sebas the vampire was a lot more dangerous and brutal if you let her.

He stopped and bowed as courteously as he was able, according the woman the respect she deserved as Ainz's lover and bearer of an heir. Beside him, Zero—who was still clinging to his side strongly—made a grunt of recognition. Still, he moved to block off her sight from Clementine as much as possible. It was as if he was shielding her subconsciously, which made him wonder why he'd done it. Out of concern for the mercenary? And why was he even doing it against this one? Like all like-minded creatures of Nazarick, they held a healthy respect for the outsiders Ainz-sama brought in, but only just.

"A good day to you, Clementine-sama," he greeted in the meantime.

"Oh." Clementine stopped in her tracks, her eyes moving from him to Zero, then back to him. Despite the immense rotundity of her pregnant frame, she looked supremely bored, her eyes betraying no spark of life or love. "It's… Um…"

"Sebas Tian, at your service, my lady," he prompted.

"Sure. Sebas Tian. I'm sure you've done good work, et cetera and all that. Well done, well done. And who is this?" Clementine glanced at Zero, who seemed averse to saying anything.

"… Er, yes, she is something of an asset to our missions, Clementine-sama," Sebas was quick to supply. He wondered why Zero was staying tongue-tied, but decided that explaining everything to Clementine would just be wasting time. He also had the feeling that trying to explain things to this one was going to be a very bad idea. "In fact, we have just returned from one such mission, and are going to the debrief."

Clementine hummed, her expressionless face betraying none of her usual thoughts. She scratched her head idly, before she shrugged. "Well, that's none of my business. You go on and do what you gotta do, for your boss and all that. But that does remind me, Sebas." The blonde made a twisting gesture with her wrist, her face scrunched up in thought. "I don't like being made a messenger, but eh, whatever. Harmony in the home and all that. I'm here, you're here." She nodded to Sebas pointedly. "They are waiting for you at the usual place. Looks like they got some surprising news to share with ya."

"News? What sort of news?" Sebas knew who the blonde was referring to, but he wasn't sure what to expect. Even the slightest mention of Tuare made him stiffen, as if he were waiting for a blow to land. The echoes from the past continued to linger in his mind. The woman he'd rescued, the one whom he'd grown to love, yet hung on the faintest thread, upon the whims of a Master; a Master who might change his forbearance towards Tuare. And unlike the other outsiders, she never became Ainz-sama's lover, which meant that the security of her future was never assured.

"That's something for you to find out, silly dog," Clementine said, making a slight chuckle. "It is literally not my business to say, and frankly I'm not interested in it even if it were my business. So, take this message and do what you will with it. I am tired, and wish to rest."

"Yes, thank you, my lady. Please rest well," Sebas said hastily, making a deep bow. Clementine took a few more waddling steps, before she paused. She glanced back towards Zero, who matched her gaze fearlessly, despite the fact she was practically clinging to Sebas' clothes.

"You know girlie, you look real familiar. There's just the way you look… But, at the moment, my curiosity ain't piqued. You're lucky. You can keep your secrets, for now. Still," she chuckled, looking up at Sebas. "You sure do have some interesting preferences. You like 'em unique, huh? First there was that dame, then an actual killer. Now you got… whoever this is supposed to be. And so soon after the last one, too…" She shook her head. "Well, adios. See you around you two."

"A good day to you, my lady," Sebas said.

Zero waited until she had well and truly disappeared into the distance before she spoke. "Who the hell was that pregnant lady? She seemed like some sorta snake in the grass. Who's the mad bloke who put a baby in that bun?"

Sebas sighed. "You are free to your opinions, but as long as you are here you are to keep it all to yourself."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"…You cannot displease that one, for she is untouchable. Do you understand?" He looked down at her. "Do not even think of antagonizing her. Try to stay out of her way, and try not to gain her attention. She is sacred to my master, and if she is displeased, then he will also be likewise displeased."

"Got it," she said. "You don't gotta tell me twice. I got to get rid of this condition, after all."

"It is good to see you understand."

Sebas took them quickly away, away from the area around the Mother's Hall. It was a very dangerous place for someone like Zero. It was fortunate that it had only been Clementine who met them here. If it had been someone like that Shalltear… He shook his head, to clear his negative thoughts.

Their "usual" place was a certain library, one of many at this area of Nazarick. And yet they had chosen it because it was relatively close to their sleeping chambers. It was also relatively remote, located as far away from the Mother's Hall and the mother's private chambers as possible.

Sebas went and knocked at the door, and cleared his throat. "It is I, Sebas," he announced.

His strong sense of hearing could pick out the sound of things being moved within the room, then something high-pitched, and then the door quickly opened, revealing the presence of Tuare. Her eyes lit up, her expression bloom into beaming joy. She all but exclaimed when she caught sight of him, and she practically leapt into his arms.

"Oh, my dear love, welcome back! How I missed you!" He swept her up in an embrace, as she peppered him with lots of wet, needy kisses. "But I thought you were busy with a mission?"

"Things have changed," Sebas said seriously, after putting her back down. "For now, we have been told to stand by here, inside Nazarick."

"We?" Tuare blinked, then looked towards Zero, who was standing off awkwardly to the side. "Oh… who's this?"

"Apologies, she…" Sebas cleared his throat. It was a long story, to have to explain what exactly Zero's deal was. So he opted with saying, "She is a subordinate, with some special circumstances. As I am currently responsible for her, I have been tasked to watch over her, for now."

"I see…" Tuare narrowed her eyes briefly, before taking Sebas' hand and dragging him inside the room. Her demeanor was slightly surprising, as her eyes shone bright like stars. "Come, come, there's something you need to hear!" She turned her head and said, "Edstrom, it's Sebas, come again! You can come out!"

As if on cue, the dark-skinned warrior he had recently bedded emerged from behind one of the shelves. To Sebas' surprise, Edstrom was no longer wearing the skimpy outfit from before. She was wearing something a little more modest, some sort of blue-colored sleeping blouse. Strangely enough, Edstrom stood a little bashfully, sticking to where she was even when Tuare urged her come closer.

"Hey, good to see you back," Edstrom said, her voice almost practically a mumble.

"And what is this news?" Sebas inquired, glancing between the two.

Tuare fidgeted, looking like she was practically bouncing on her feet. Edstrom looked similarly excited, as if her whole body was winding up for some great feat.

After one final look at Edstrom, Tuare blurted out, "It worked. It worked, my love! The potion worked! The healers just confirmed it—I'm pregnant! We're going to have a child, at last!"

For a short moment, Sebas just stood there, his eyebrows raised. Then he cried, "That is wonderful!"

"Yeah, and same for me, I guess," Edstrom said.

"Indeed, we both just came from the healers," Tuare said, her hands clasped over her chest. "And we have both been blessed by your love."

"This is indeed wonderful news!" Sebas repeated. Without thinking, he had immediately stepped forward to sweep them both up in his arms, carrying one of them each on either side. Tuare giggled and even Edstrom made a sound of joy as he whirled around the room, carrying the two women in his arms, pressing them close to his body, as boundless elation bloomed in his heart.

It was right in the middle of this that Edstrom's laughter abruptly stopped. "Wait, what the fuck? Who's that?"

Sebas paused, and glanced at the direction where Edstrom stared. Zero was still standing there, close to the door, wide-eyed, apparently bewildered by everything she had witnessed.

"She…" Sebas paused. "She is someone who is under my care for the moment. A vital part of a mission for which I have been tasked—though at the moment, operations have been suspended."

"Greetings," Zero said, inclining his head stiffly.

"Wait, what the fuck?" Edstrom said. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, as she stared at Zero intently as if she were some sort of puzzle to solve. "Is that…? It can't be… Is that you boss?"

Zero's face froze, then a light of recognition crossed her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "And here I'd wondered where you'd gone to. It is good to see you're living things up, but I genuinely never expected to find you here of all places. And in that… condition."

"No, way!" Edstrom wriggled out from his grasp and stepped closer, the better to look at Zero, as if she was some prize exhibit. "But you're—you're…!"

"Yes, yes, drink it up. Don't think this is a dream: this is, unfortunately, reality," Zero drily said, her face utterly devoid of amusement, in sharp contrast with her words.

"B-but how?"

"It's a long story. I don't even much know about it myself."

There was a pause, then Edstrom said, "Ah, so it must be that Ainz guy maybe. That's a damned shame."

Sebas could only sigh.

---

Within the most hallowed chamber in the Royal Palace of the Re-Estize Kingdom sat the royal Princess Renner, daughter of the last King Ramposa III, and soon to be the progenitor of a new dynasty for all Re-Estize. She sat before a magnificent, gem-studded, gilded mirror, upon which was reflected the tremendous beauty that had captured the hearts and minds of her people—a visage she deigned not to gaze upon, for the Princess' heart was not given to simple vanity. As she sat, she combed her lustrous golden hair, whose color and brilliance had seemed otherworldly like a star drawn from heaven.

Yet why, one might ask, was she combing her hair thus? If she were not driven by the pride in her own appearance, then why the need to put up airs? She was not being observed by anyone inside her own room, for this was a sanctum that few were allowed to enter. Not even her "loyal" maids, for whom she expressed the utmost contempt, could enter without express permission—Renner's permission.

The answer was quite simple. She was combing her hair because there was naught else to do. There was simply nothing else that could be done on that very instant. She had already eaten. She had already bathed. She had already refreshed herself in every possible way. She had already finished her daily correspondence. There were no books she wanted to read, and there was no longer any possible knowledge she could glean from them. Here inside her sanctum, all she could do was sleep, or else ruminate on her thoughts.

But doing nothing did not necessarily mean all else about her would also stand still. Plans and schemes sprouted freely from her mind, and each of these had already moved forward like the constant breeze flowing unimpeded over the surface of the earth. It did not even require any effort from her part. Each of these plans were already moving towards their inevitable conclusions, which she had long laid out upon their conception.

Renner did not possess the capability to be pleased by most things, not even to take satisfaction in plans that had achieved fruition. But here at least there was pleasure in knowing that she was moving just a bit closer to her heart's desire. Nothing else mattered in the fulfillment of that base need, something that went beyond such banalities such as politics or matters of state, nor even her own personal views of the former subjects.

In fact, in her opinion, nothing mattered anymore in the Re-Estize Kingdom. It was a nation that was already dead; and yet like some headless bird it still continued to lurch about, its bodily functions stubbornly clinging to some semblance of life. A part of Renner would always question why the gods saw fit to gift such wretched abilities to the poor creatures. Or perhaps it was more of the bird's own willful spirit, that refused to acknowledge that its time had come. Certainly, that explanation did fit with what she now saw among all the noblemen who yet clung to their prides. To their communal stupidity. So many sad, foolish birds, running about headless, heedless—and more than a bit mad, perhaps. Their attitudes went beyond rationality, and so it might actually be right to conclude that some form of insanity was in play.

Her retainers, who thought nothing of revealing secrets and other gossip to an "empty-headed buffoon", told her all she ever needed to know about the state of the Kingdom outside her small abode. Of the chaos and fear that now gripped the Capital of the nation her father once ruled.

It had never been her intention to fully supplant her brother Zanac. Even now, were to face him directly, even after everything that had happened, she would still tell him as much.

The whole situation reminded her of the ridiculous stories that the masses loved, that had been played on stage at various halls and taverns all throughout the land for many years now. Of drama reduced to nothing but a series of farces, tales of reality tinged with the fancies of the hysterical and the witless. It would have been frustrating for Zanac, to be cast as the loathsome villain in this particular tale, as the bumbling, buffoonish nobleman doomed to be laughed at and ridiculed—ironically by the nobility themselves who had cast off their loyalty to King Ramposa's desires. And she on the other hand would be the forgotten, unloved child of a bastard, a Princess in all but name, who had grown up through humble environs; and who would eventually be raised up as the new ruler by the will of the people. The only element that seemed like something she would do was the Princess taking her bandit lover and raising him up to be her consort, her King.

She had never watched such spectacles herself, as she had no desire to watch anything so ridiculous. And when she had been curious, she had asked others for the summary of events, which was a far better use of her time.

The nobles who were in on the plot had come to her at the very start, just when she had been tasked by Albedo-sama to ramp up her machinations. It was such an unexpected boon that she had initially assumed that Albedo's side had helped to engineer it. Looking back with hindsight, it did not seem to be the case, as the nobles who had approached her did not seem enthralled or mind-controlled in any way. They yet remained acting as their irrational, greedy selves, which to Renner sounded just the same as usual.

They had been just a group of minor nobles, who had each approached her with the hidden intent on exploiting her tenuous connection to the Throne of Re-estize. They did not state their intentions out loud, but it was very obvious what they were seeking from her. They had been just like her retainers, thinking her a simple-minded princess, and had showered her with flatteries that she suspected might have worked on actual simpletons.

"Oh, but dear Princess, do you not see? This is the only way that you can save your father's darling Kingdom. These things must be done, or else all that he has worked so tirelessly for shall be lost forever!" they had said. "With our support, and the glory of your presence and wondrous beauty, why there is nothing we cannot do! We shall see our kingdom rise to a glorious rebirth!"

"Oh my," she had exclaimed, affecting the look of a frightened, witless lamb. "But surely my dear brother will be able to help us? Oh, I know he will! We just need to await his return in triumph from whatever he's doing!"

Perhaps they thought that trying to argue with a simpleton about the finer intricacies of rule was a waste of time and effort. They had not even tried to show her the advantages and disadvantages of Zanac's supposed rule. Nor did they even try to tempt her with the prospect of holding whatever power they deigned to grant her, by simply giving her the throne. They wanted everything themselves, after all.

As such, they spared little words for her dear brother—and even then, it was only as if he was an afterthought.

"… very unfortunate that we could find no news of him, Your Highness," they had said. "He has completely disappeared. We fear the worst."

"Oh my," she had said, her ears glimmering with tears. "We should do something about that! We should be finding my brother! Come, let us organize a search! We must find the new King as quickly as we can!"

"It is more important for us now to safeguard the Kingdom he has left behind, my Princess," they had insisted, gently pushing back against her protests. "We cannot let Prince Zanac's efforts go to waste. Please, aid us, and we shall steer your Father's kingdom back onto the correct course."

"We only humbly wish that you assist us in this simple endeavor. It is a small thing to do, and yet it will be a great boon for the Kingdom. …And for the people. Please, Princess, you must agree."

"I am so terribly confused by all of this," she had said faintly. "Very well, I shall do as you ask. Please, do what you can, for I do not really know what else to do."

They had exchanged secret smiles with each other, fully confident that she would not or would not read the guile hidden within them. "Oh, worry no, Your Highness. You may leave it all to us. It only remains for you to stay as you are. Then, when the time comes, we shall call for you. You need not do anything but what we ask—mere trifling things. You may be assured that we shall take care of everything else."

They had kept true to their word, for the most part. They had spared her the "indignity" of having to go around organizing the plot, to bringing in more conspirators into the fold. They had kept her firmly out of the planning, and had suborned her own retainers to place her in a gilded cage. They were no serious loss; to begin with, the creatures who deigned to serve her had never been hers.

She would always be thankful to Albedo-sama for the assistance of the invisible demons who accompanied her. As part of their contract, they were also to serve her, and she had used it to her advantage. Other than bodyguards, they could also be sent as spies. Through them she could peer outside her cage, to see the bitter reality that her retainers tried to "hide" from her.

And sometimes she would send the creatures to aid in her plots and plans. Their long, invisible hands could reach everywhere, and as such she utilized their services as much as she could. They would spy on important clandestine conversations between nobles, or between conspirators. They would help sow discord by misplacing or hiding messages, or by outright stealing important objects from inside someone's pockets. They could cause the guardsmen to become alerted and suspicious, frustrating nobles who might have needed some privacy.

Through their aid, her invisible plans continued unabated—bolstered by the efforts of these ambitious, thoughtless nobles. Their clumsy schemes only served to mask her own, and it was through this that she learned that their grand conspiracy had encompassed a major part of the nobility that yet remained at the Capital.

It encompassed nobles from both the Royal and the Great Nobles factions. Such distinctions between the factions had become quite superfluous in the aftermath of the abdication. They were now united by one common goal: to seize the opportunity and raise themselves to power, to a height that could never be accomplished before. It even involved the Marquis Pespea, the current marshal of Re-Estize, a restive man whose ambitions were clear for any who had the brains to look.

Renner was not surprised at Pespea's apparent involvement—one did not ascend to lead the Great Nobles without ambition as high as the heavens. She had known of him, one of the lesser-known heavy weights among the Greater Nobles, as a man with a penchant for trade. It was surprising considering his current status as leader of the whole Re-Estize army, but Renner correctly saw that the Katze Plains massacre had done its part to cull the actual military minds who might have occupied such a slot. Pespea had been appointed as the only, last choice—and also because ironically enough he was supposed to have been Zanac's ally.

Yet despite his apparent weakness in military strategy and tactics, he was still somewhat of a warhawk, pushing for conquest and conflict quietly from the sidelines. His was among the many loud voices pushing the King for war with the Holy Kingdom. She surmised that it was all to broaden the horizons of his mercantile network, by forcibly opening new markets. The Holy Kingdom had been notoriously protective of its mercantile interests, with certain resources being reserved only for themselves. In the aftermath of the war with Jaldabaoth, Pespea must have seen the opportunity of a weak nation.

Marquis Raeven had once remarked privately to her that Pespea had expressed a desire to ally with the southern Theocracy, to aid in the war against the elves. The obvious desire then was to acquire the defeated elves for the lucrative slave trade. The others in the faction had firmly rebuffed him, after wisely recognizing that ingratiating themselves with the Theocracy would be another way of inviting their fanatics into their Kingdom. Ironically, it would have led to war as the Re-Estize Kingdom would become the Theocracy's lapdog in fighting the demihuman nations for "human supremacy". And the very fact that the nobles had boundless pride meant that they would never agree to so blatantly become some other nation's underling.

Now it seemed that Pespea was angling for something much better than aggressively founding a market in Roble. He was looking to help found a new dynasty instead.

Renner got a visit from the man himself right before the day when their group of co-conspirators declared the repudiation of Zanac's succession. He was fully dressed in the regalia of a war hero, bearing medals and decorations on his chest as if he was about to impress her with all he had done. Yet she knew those rewards had been given by her Father only as gratitude for his participation in past campaigns. They were commendations for the Marquis' support in the past, not necessarily for his valor or strength of arms.

He certainly seemed to wholeheartedly belief in his own importance, as he puffed up his chest and greeted her in a stern, officious manner. His eyes stared at her as if she was some prized animal to be sold for a high amount of gold. It was easy enough to see the numbers strolling through the man's head, accompanied by the sound of gold coins clinking against each other in an endless parade.

He kindly thanked her for agreeing to become their puppet, a figurehead to rally all the nobles to the cause, though obviously not in that obvious a manner.

"Dearest Marquis, it warms my heart to know that you have been fighting so hard for our sake, leading my Father's soldiers to victory…"

The man had cleared his throat, and had the decency to look embarrassed. "Ah… well… It is but part of the duty of us nobility to guide our nation towards its rightful course. It is not only through mine efforts that the enemy has been beaten back, again and again; it has been the work of our countless brave soldiers, who have worked tirelessly in the service of their rightful lieges… Though I shall certainly accept your praise, my lady, with my fullest gratitude."

"Do you think then, that we can definitely win this war?" she asked demurely.

The Marquis made a loud, boisterous guffaw. "Why, certainly! Nothing is impossible for those who have the strength of will and the wisdom to reach for what they want and take it. Our proud nation has weathered many a crisis from the day it was founded. We shall not fail, as many have before." Quite appropriately, the man did not go to specifics regarding how the war itself would be conducted. Ah, but she was a mere wallflower of a Princess, wasn't she? Matters of war were not for her delicate little mind.

The man had then continued on to speak about future plans, particularly regarding her future prospects. She had heard from her demonic helpers that there was currently a heated discussion among the co-conspirators regarding the "right" partner that would be paired with her to create a new dynasty.

They hadn't told her about this explicitly, though, and she guessed they were waiting for the signs of an actual victory before going through with such plans. If the Re-Estize Kingdom ended up losing, then all the plans would end up being for naught.

Pespea, being married, was barred from such opportunities. But as one of the top nobles in the conspiracy he supposedly had some say in the aftermath. Considering his situation, though, it was easy enough to guess that his children or grand-children would be matched up with Renner's hypothetical children, in order to tie Pespea's house more strongly to the "new" royal line. Eventually, his house may yet rise in prominence to take over, or so he'd hoped.

After their little meeting had come the official announcement of the repudiation of Zanac. It was already an event that was being penned down by royal chroniclers in their tomes of history. Renner had no doubt that if these people had their way, this event would be a pivotal point in the Re-Estize Kingdom's history, one to be recalled by generations more to come.

But Renner knew that the history of the Kingdom was not going to become what they were all expecting.

She had spotted the Marquis Raeven in the crowd on that fateful day. Of all the people in the massive audience chamber, he was the only one who could be considered the Princess's true "conspirator". The man had been an expert at hiding his feelings well, and he had hidden them very well indeed on that time. How painful the betrayal would have felt like, to see her right at the center of this new movement? Perhaps he may have wondered if she had long harbored such ambitions beforehand.

She would have liked to ask him about it. A frank conversation between them would have been enlightening, at the least. But she had lost sight of the Marquis after some time, and since then he had not been seen in the Palace. The rumors went that he had shortly fled the Capital to return to his estates. Coward, they had named him. For them it had been shameful for one of the old guard to have abandoned his duty and vows to the Throne. Marcher, some were even calling him, vowing to take his head and see justice done—well, after they had won this war, of course.

All else considered, it certainly sounded like the smart thing for a canny man like him to do, especially considering what happened then to the other loyalists like him.

The following days saw a marked rise in the ranks of the conspirators, who had now shed their identity as a band made in secrecy. They were a proper faction now, united under "her" banner. In reality, her faction was administrated by a small council of prominent nobles led by Pespea behind the scenes. They made up the new War Council that took over the prosecution of the war in her name.

Any dissenting nobles like Raeven, who might have preferred other alternatives or who had been loyal to her father's mandates, were bullied or threatened into joining them. Others were frightened to compliance, forcing them to stay out of the way if they still disagreed with the plotting. Where the objection to Zanac's rule had been but one of many voices, now they all unanimously declared the foundation of a new legacy and the end of the old, "decrepit" line, symbolized by her brother. And she stayed right in the middle, their perfect Princess, symbol of certain victory.

Marquis Raeven had been smart enough to see the writing on the wall. And instead of going on his knees to her conspirators, like some others had done, he had clung to his wounded pride and elected to withdraw from politics altogether. That was the last she would ever hear from him. Indeed, Raeven's disappearance would become just one of many mysterious happenings that would occur in the succeeding weeks.

As she recalled, these strange incidents started occurring sometime after the Sorcerous Kingdom had invaded their country in earnest. The bull-headed defiance that had buoyed the new faction's courage for a few days had swiftly lost its steam in the face of the cold reality that settled around them.

They were all still paying through the nose to host feasts and parties. According to her demons, some were already grumbling, especially when they had to turn to richer nobles just to borrow funds. Indeed it was a fantastic scheme by those like Pespea, who could leverage their enormous wealth to bind the lesser nobles even further under their control.

Realistically speaking, the Re-Estize Kingdom had no army that could be called upon to fight off this invasion from the east. The levies had been utterly drained, even as the Marcher Lords retained their own soldiers, obviously keeping to themselves.

The final dregs of their army, which Zanac had helped cobble together; and the one which had been busy fighting off the Holy Kingdom to the west, yet remained to safeguard the Capital. By her understanding, they would only serve to defend against an attack from the Holy Kingdom from that direction. The Capital yet remained vulnerable to the threat from the Sorcerous Kingdom.

She had heard the nobles make a lot of objections and inquiries to Marquis Pespea over this—as he was still the acting commander of their armies. They wanted the army to pull back, to attack, to do something other than sit there on that garrison twiddling their thumbs. The new War Council must have heeded those words, as an announcement had arrived that they had commenced a complete fortification of the heartlands, which was the large area of plains that surrounded the Capital City. The last bastion to the west was abandoned, the army forced to retreat; and then assigned the dubious task of preventing the arrival of enemy forces from any direction.

They toasted this so-called "Ring of Steel" at the banquets and parties, one that would ensure that the Capital City remained whole and inviolate. "Forever", some would claim.

While the nobles would indeed lauded it as a sensible decision, Renner was reasonably sure that the Marquis was actually preparing an escape route for himself and other like-minded nobles. It was, on the surface, a very ill-thought tactic. The newly formed garrisons were no serious threat to an invasion; especially with how far aprat they were spread, too far to reinforce each other in time. Even during an unlikely time when the Re-Estize Kingdom's coffers and armies were actually healthy and stable, it would have been a foolish tactic to consider. They would only be useful for raising an alarm and nothing else.

And that was perhaps the Marquis' use for them. Should they learn where exactly the enemies were coming from, and if they recognized that the threat was dire enough that enduring a siege would be impossible, they would immediately flee through the safest route.

Renner then wondered what would happen if the enemy actually came from all directions? Had they accounted for that?

Afterwards, in the wake of the Ring of Steel's formation, more taxes were demanded of the nobles, in order to fund a dearth of mercenary companies from outside the Kingdom. It was a last-ditch effort to bolster their depleted armies. These nobles were promised land and other favors after the war for their contributions. There were no small number of nobles who eagerly paid their tribute—foolish and short-sighted scions from minor houses eager for a bigger slice of the pie.

Quite obviously it would not be enough, as the following weeks would see.

Oh, their resources were put to good use. The demons had reported several mercenary companies arriving at the Capital. Their leaders were hosted at extravagant parties to demonstrate Re-Estize's wealth. They were even toasted by all the nobles as if they were exalted heroes ready to give them the decisive edge in the war. Then they were summarily shipped out to join the garrisons and do their part, though many wondered if they would have been much better being sent out to clash against their enemies rather than sit still.

But if that had been the case, she knew these mercenaries might never have accepted the job.

In the meantime, news from abroad—or the relative lack of it—showed that the Kingdom's situation was continuing to deteriorate, to a point that it could almost be called unsalvageable. One by one, word from the most distant fiefdoms ceased to arrive, as if a dark shadow had slowly cast itself over the land, completely shrouding all that was within it.

Many wondered what the Sorcerous Kingdom would do with those nobles who had declared themselves Marchers—would their leader respect their decision or would they all be conquered just the same?

If there had been any messengers arriving that bore ill tidings from the many vassals still loyal to the Capital, or if news came by some other (magical) means, then the War Council was making no mention of it to the rest of the Capital. They only continued to give many assurances and platitudes, as if the end of the war was just in sight.

They even deigned to give her updates on the situation, as if they wanted to assuage the fears "blooming in her dainty little heart". Never mind that the news they shared were bound to be littered with falsehoods and inaccuracies.

"Don't you worry, dear Princess," her maids would tell her, "The Marquis has plans well in hand. No harm shall fall upon your head, and your Father's Kingdom will emerge triumphant from this war."

"We shall be blessed by the gods before long," another would say. "For surely they cannot suffer that such a wretched creature should lay claim to our nation. We shall visit divine retribution upon this undead and all who dared ally with it, and you shall see the Kingdom rise once more."

The way they spoke so dreamily and so candidly, it sounded like they were the ones on the War Council, ready to dictate the terms of war and command their soldiers forward with the same ruthlessness as they would the dirt on her furniture. These worthless creatures' intentions were written plain on their faces—the burning envy, unabashed resentment and rabid ambition. Oh, how they longed to become her, as if being bestowed the title of Princess and being fawned over by all these worthless nobles would be the solution of all their problems. She did not pity them nor hate them; they were just entirely beneath her notice. And they were not useful even as pawns, for her borrowed demons were better retainers in every way but appearance.

In a way, she pitied the Princess Renner who did not become her—the innocent and naïve Princess Renner who might have been abducted by the War Council and taken to a distant land, there to be sold off as a prize: through whom many would pay dearly to sire children of royal blood. She had read about an account some centuries past, when the Demon Kings had destroyed entire nations, of how a sadistic demihuman had collected the princesses of these realms. He had made a stable of such children, selling them off to those who would go on to found new nations. Arwintar had been said to have been literally birthed from the dregs of another nation, though how much of it was true or simple propaganda, none could easily say.

Despite the War Council's very best efforts, however, they could not stop the mood and sentiment from dwindling down into catastrophic levels. And this was not helped by the disappearances that occurred.

Marquis Raeven had been part of it. There had been rumors that the man's private retainers had managed to limp their way to the capital, bringing news that the man's estates had been assaulted by an unknown force, and that the Marquis himself and his family had been abducted. Not only was this a blatant strike on a storied personage (though his star had been long diminished among the nobles), it also exposed the vulnerabilities of the Capital.

Raeven's estates lay just beyond the border of the Ring of Steel, just a stone's throw from the nearest garrisoned town. Yet there had been no news that the enemy had already reached them. The "front line", as it were, yet remained a distant thing in their minds. So what could then explain this kidnapping? If their enemies could reach out and strike them this close to the Capital, then what was stopping them from striking them directly here, in the Palace?

Once more, widespread panic reigned in the Capital. Many wished to flee, to find some other place for succor. Only the stern will of the War Council's nobles, who threatened charges of treason on the cowardly, the troublemakers and the rabblerousers, kept the peace. And those nobles who'd already thrown in their fortunes to the cause also stubbornly heeded the Council's assertion that Raeven's disappearance was wholly unrelated. That was the official news, and perhaps Pespea and his allies wished that would remain so.

It did not. As the days passed, more and more nobles disappeared, leaving panicked men-at-arms and soldiers fleeing towards the Capital, bearing their grim news in tow. Always it was the same story: a mysterious force invading, and their masters kidnapped in the aftermath. The incidents were far too many, and too noisy for them to be silenced in time.

Once again, the cry of discontent rose. The Palace, once a hub of leisure and decadence, almost became a literal battleground as nobles summoned their loyal retainers from the city garrison. Each were hellbent on either forcing their way out or putting their foot down on those who wished to flee. Not even the War Council's words could assuage them anymore, their mandates left unheeded.

Into this den of uncertainty and terror, came the news that shattered the tranquility forevermore, to Renner's sneering delight.

Just recently, news came that Marquis Pespea's own home inside the Capital had been assaulted.

No one could find a trace of him afterward. The guards had all been found unconscious, and had each been interrogated by a group of torturers, to discover if some form of foul play was afoot. Yet none could explain the Marquis' disappearance, nor did they uncover any clues as to his current location. Their only lead, which did not at all look promising, was the apparent disappearance of one other notable man inside the mansion: Brain Unglaus, a celebrated warrior who was said to be on the level of the former Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff. Some thought that the rascal had absconded with the Marquis, though no one now had the means of discovering if that was really true.

That was the final tipping point. The disappearance of the War Council's head, indeed the head of the conspiracy that had repudiated Zanac, had disappeared. And with him had gone the last bits of control that they could muster.

Blood now pooled on the floor of the Palace, as nobles clawed through this way or that. Some fought to escape with their lives. Some fought to gain dominance in Pespea's place. And some just fought to survive.

Inside her room, which was sealed off from the outside world, the relative silence and stillness was a definite improvement to the chaos coursing through the halls just outside. She never even heard the cries of the desperate and the dying. The thought of her own retainers—who must surely have been surprised that her chambers had been sealed even to them—never crossed her mind. She continued to comb her hair and hum softly to herself, her face a complete mask of tranquility.

She opened her eyes, and stared right through the mirror. It looked strangely as if she was looking at herself, and yet in truth she was looking right behind her.

There, lying on the bed clad in his full armor, was her own beloved Climb. When the time had come, the shadow demons had spirited him here unawares from his place in the barracks outside. Before he woke from his sleep she doused him with a poison granted to her by her benefactors, which would prolong that sleep—at least until something "special" was done.

What that "special" might be was left to the imagination. Yet she blushed to think that it might need her true love's kiss to wake her beloved, just as it was said in the tales. She could almost squirm like a lively worm, her thoughts filled with desire.

She knew her beloved Climb would never have approved of what she had done. It would have broken his sweet, innocent heart to think that his beloved Princess had done something so horrific as to ally with monsters to help bring down the Re-Estize Kingdom that her own blood had helped build, all those years ago. Climb was a sweet man guided by his code of honor, and she knew that he would have sacrificed himself to quell the riots outside, to attempt to enforce order upon chaos. He would have died in the attempt, and while resurrecting him had its appeal, this time she would never let those slavering beasts outside tamper with her beloved's body.

No, no, better that he stay here, unmolested, his mind asleep, his soul oblivious. Let him dream of her, of the days to come—when all that they had ever wished for would be theirs at last. When all who would have denied them their happy ending, these obstacles who would never know the truest of loves, would be as dust, fodder for the great lord nesting in the darkness.

Soon, yes, very soon. She would be able to administer the "special" antidote quite soon. Then she would wake him, as in the stories, and she would show him the world she had helped make. And it would be her duty as his lover to make him understand, should his heart rebel in some way. To make him open his heart and understand that love may still be found—and earned—even in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Yes, not long now, my dearest Climb. Soon we shall have a house all to ourselves. And we shall be live happy. Forever.

The shadow demons had long informed her what the War Council had refused to disseminate, even weeks ago. That the Sorcerous Kingdom had swept through the entire nation, conquering all in its path. That while its nobles feasted and reveled, Ainz Ooal Gown had likewise devoured all in His path, whether loyal or Marcher. That as the nobles took it easy, so too did He take his time, ensuring that none could escape the trap.

The twilight of the Re-Estize Kingdom had passed. And she was all too pleased to see it sink into the horizon. She had done her part to guide her father's nation down to oblivion—and she didn't care. As soon as Albedo-sama came back here, she would know that her role was completed, and that she would finally be rewarded with all she desired.

She closed her eyes and brushed her hair again, slowly, methodically; patiently awaiting the end.

---

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".