Alenbonne, One Week Later
Tsuare stood on a ridge right above the village of Alenbonne, a quaint and quiet farming village that sat nestled close to the cliff side. The landscape surrounding the place made for a natural defense against invaders or otherwise foreign interlopers. This area of Re-Estize was somewhat drier, being further away from any natural water sources inside the Forest of Tob and having to rely upon a series of wells that dotted the landscape below.
From her estimate, she believed that the village's population numbered only a few hundred, as was expected. As far as she could tell, most of the housing was simple wood and brick, with thatch roofs to stave off the harsh, cold winters. There was barely a wall surrounding the village that wasn't protected by the cliff she stood upon, appearing more like a picket fence.
These people appear severely under-defended, what with the lack of guards and general security. What made Alenbonne so important to Destrus that he took the time to mark it as he did on his map?
Prior to her visit to this village, she spent a good portion of the last week rifling through Destrus's old paperwork to find any sort of important documents pertaining to the place. She found nearly nothing, not even a love letter from an old spouse or romantic flame.
She could still recall the meeting she called shortly afterwards to share with the other elders her plans to visit the village. She could feel her headache begin to throb from the conversation that went down.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" Shouted the Warhammer Weapons Master, who had survived the initial slaughter of their people but missing a left arm and a part of his lower lip. He would've been healed, if not for the severe lack of proper magic healers left in their ranks.
"We're just barely getting everything set up back here after the last mess, and now our 'chosen leader' wishes to leave already? What a sorry pup you are," he snarled.
The other surviving weapon masters, as well as elders like Mama Juniper and Papa Jacobson, were in attendance. They were the surviving leadership of the old Knights of the Weeping King, around a dozen or so people. There were twice as many before Brain Unglaus's raid on their fortress.
Their current meeting place was a stone hewn war room, a massive, oval table occupying the majority of the space. There were enough chairs to comfortably seat the original two dozen advisors, leaders, and high-ranking officers. Unfortunately, the most comfort they gave were well-worm cushions, which was liable to make most people grit their teeth.
The dagger weapon master tried to place a comforting hand on the warhammer master's shoulder. "There's no reason to get so worked up, you old git. I agree though, Ms. Tsuare, that this desire of yours to scout out the other villages when we just barely got new recruits is rather poorly timed."
"Not to mention fool-hardy," another weapons master grunted, "We can't have you gallivanting off into the wilderness at such a fragile time. At the very least, can't you give us a month or two to recuperate before we go scouting out our next target?"
"A month?! Man, are you daft. I'm not mad that she wants to leave so soon, I'm mad she wants to leave without any of us to back her up," the Warhammer master shouted at his peer, startling him.
Tsuare raised both her hands in a placating manner. "Please, please! I understand your concerns, but what I'm proposing should only take a few days at most to accomplish, and only with one person. We don't all need to go together, and I'd much rather send myself to check out the village than risk the remainder of our leadership!"
The sword master chimed in. "Remember our conversation, girl. We as your advisors are telling you this is a bad idea to do alone, especially considering you're our leader too. You can't just go running off whenever it strikes your fancy, not when there's too much to do here too."
"But the Weeping King-"
"Shall be honored. A statue has been made in the image he desires in Drummesburg. At the very least give us enough time to start carving the next one to place in this village you want to map out."
"Alenbonne. The hell kind of name is that for a village?" The warhammer master asked, "I can't imagine what dream or nightmare you conjured it up out of. Are you sure that explosive didn't crack your skull by accident?"
Tsuare's voice felt meek when she replied. "It was on Destrus's map in his office, actually. He wrote it in nicer calligraphy than the other village names he wrote out. I wasn't really sure what other leads to follow so here we are."
Her answer effectively shut up the bickering weapon masters for the moment, staring at her gobsmacked. It was the sort of look that asked the question "why on earth would you do that?" Evidently, she must not have been ready or allowed to enter Destrus's office yet.
Thankfully, before any of them could start jabbing inquiries at her, Mama Juniper spoke up. "What other names did you find there? What prompted you to start looking in there of all places?"
Quickly, she recounted the name of the village that Axel gave her, which in-turn led her to seek out Destrus Desmodus's office to find any resources and knowledge he might've had on the subject, given he had been in charge of planning the Knights' assaults and conquests.
"I seem to recall a Warlington that Destrus mentioned in passing once," the sword master said, "He always had a belief the town there held some significance, but it was too close to the capital to stage a full investigation, not to mention the distance was too great. He never mentioned Alenbonne though."
"Perhaps his hometown? It might've been where he was born, but this is a lot of conjecture for a lead that may not exist. For all we know, Destrus could've been trying out new handwriting at the time he wrote that name," Mama Juniper offered.
Tsuare sighed, feeling some of that exhaustion seep in that the sword master warned her about, a subtle weight on her shoulders that was growing heavier. "It, alongside two other villages, are rather close to Drummesburg. Even if it turns out to be nothing, it would still make for a great place to do conversion. The Weeping King commanded that we place statues of Himself in all villages, so maybe this could be a peaceful conquest."
"A conquest of an entire village, peaceful?"
"At the very least we could avoid bloodshed, couldn't we?"
The sword master rubbed his temples. "Tsuare, I think you're missing the point I'm trying to make."
"I think I understand it perfectly fine, thank you very much. I had part of my vengeance already, spilled the blood I wanted and helped others in the process. Now I want to try a different approach that doesn't involve slaughter. If my investigation brings up nothing and they refuse to listen to reason, then I say we try and do something like forcefully invading."
All of the remaining leadership muttered amongst themselves. They snuck glances at her between words, but otherwise kept her out of the conversation. At times, their whispers grew heated, threatening arguments. Eventually, they cooled down enough that Mama Juniper fully focused on Tsuare.
"Given the nature of our circumstances here, we are loath to have to send anyone of the leadership out on this mission, but with how few warriors and mages we have left, we need all the protection we can get. Given your unique… status and the favor the Weeping King has bestowed upon you, are you certain this is a mission you wish to take on by yourself?"
Tsuare tried to give them as confident a smile as she could manage. "Since it's just us and not the other warriors, I think I can say not entirely, but as one of you once said, I will never get the experience I need if I don't go out into the field myself more. Besides, I always knew that I wouldn't be taking any of you, but I never said I'd be entirely by myself."
At her words, an animalistic snarl filled the room, startling the weapon masters and caretakers. Out of the shadows in their impromptu meeting room, one of the death lords materialized, unmasking its full stench of decay on everyone.
She gestured to the might undead with a mixture of pride and fear, careful not to let her voice warble too much. "As you can see, I've always got one of our Lord's chosen with me. So long as it remains within my shadow, I'll never be left alone or defenseless."
The conversation after that was terribly short. She chuckled softly to herself, recalling the shock and awe she created by introducing the death lord as she did. She did, however, take it upon herself to get someone else to accompany her as well, as a peace offering to her advisors to show she was listening to them.
Turning to her companion for that trip, she gave him a kind smile. "Thank you again for coming along with me, Hannibal. I know that the fortress must have been getting rather stuffy, and you likely missed the fresh air of being outside."
Hannibal, the massive village boy who she had spared in the initial assault on the fortress, grunted in acknowledgment. He hefted the mighty pack on his back, which housed the supplies they had used over the last couple of days. Tsuare, likewise, carried their weapons beneath her cloak, Heatstriker and his mace respectively.
He pursed his lips in a question, a method of communicating she slowly came to understand as they spent their time traveling together.
"This village held some importance to our previous leader, but I'm not sure what," she nodded to Alenbonne below, "This is merely a reconnaissance mission, nothing more. Something to satisfy my curiosity."
Hannibal raised an eyebrow, but continued to say nothing. He instead drew the heavy cloak he'd been given around himself tighter. Tsuare did the same, pulling her hood up. "Come along. You and I can 'talk' more on the way down. Maybe we can grab something quick to eat before lunch if we need to."
Both began to make their way down the cliffside, almost stumbling down the steep, rocky pathway that led directly to the entrance of Alenbonne. A few times, Hannibal had to reach out and grab Tsuare by the arm, holding her from falling completely.
'He is just helping me. Please stand down, there is no reason to get so upset,' She mentally commanded, feeling the rising fury of the death lord that had attached itself to her shadow. It chose this method of sticking close to her, a terrifying ability that allowed it to stay out of sight while never letting her out of its own.
It was a tad jarring, given this was the first time she ever felt such an odd pressure on her mind. It wasn't smothering, per se, but just very much present. She supposed it felt the same as the extra padding that lined the inside of her cloak, providing extra protection without needing her to wear her usual armor.
Her cloak snagged on a couple of rocks along the way, but they made it down to the village without further issue. Security was more lax than she thought, for there were not even guards to stop and check the two mysterious cloaked travelers who freely passed the picket fence. She subtly glanced around, only seeing the village people mill about as they began preparing for the day.
A few farm animals, goats and pigs mostly, chased each other alongside laughing children, early birds chirping their little songs in the trees scattered about. There was cheerful talk among the adults, though they gave curious glances to Tsuare and Hannibal as they walked down the main road to the heart of the village. Otherwise, they were not bothered.
Everyone else was wearing black cloaks as well, to stave off the morning chill no doubt, which made it difficult to tell what sort of job the adults had in the village. For all she knew, she could very well be passing by either farmers or assassin's hiding daggers beneath their clothing.
Beyond the obvious, there really does seem to be nothing of importance here. Why care so much about this place, Destrus? What was this place to you, once upon a time?
Her answer came in the form of a statue at the heart of the village, a communal gathering area that she saw many of the residents stopping by to rub the tip of the statue's boot. Her breath caught in her throat, causing Hannibal to give her a look of concern and agitating the death lord further.
Before her was a statue of the previous leader of the Knights of the Weeping King himself, Destrus Desmodus. He was carved with phenomenal care and attention to detail, posed heroically with his sword raised above his head and his shield raised to chest level. He wore a triumphant look on his face, wearing an open faced helmet.
That was when she realized that the statue before her was not wearing his traditional armor, but rather a simple set of what looked to be cheap chain-mail. Though the statue was still carved by peasant hands, it was still done to such a degree of care that she could tell that much. It wasn't rough by any means, but it was not as well done as a professional was capable of.
Destrus was a hero to these people, but it must have been long before he ever came to be with the Knights, but I always thought that he was born and raised with the Knights himself. Did he strike out on his own at some point, or was this an early achievement of his before he was made leader?
"Excuse me, sir, might I trouble you for a moment," she quietly called out to a passing man who touched the foot of the statue, presumably on his way to his daily duties.
Her voice startled the man out of his quiet reverence, but he smiled politely nonetheless. "Certainly. What can I do ya for, miss?"
She gestured with her chin to the statue. "My compatriot and I are travelers in this region, and we stopped here to hopefully rest before we continued on this journey. We noticed this statue that you were all paying respect, and were curious as to the story behind it."
The man gave them a curious look, raising an eyebrow. He glanced to Hannibal, who grunted in affirmation. The man was still relaxed, but now he had his own air of curiosity about him.
"I can't say we get too many visitors to this region, given how out of the way we are, but you're hardly the first. You wouldn't happen to know the gentlemen and woman over yonder, would you?"
He pointed off near the outskirts of the village center, where she could see two distinct groups of people huddled close to their comrades. One was more distinct than the other, but both caught her attention equally for how easily they seemed to stand out in comparison to the people around her.
One group was dressed in similar cloaks as the rest of the villagers that cool morning, but they tended to stay away from the native born people. All of the figures were men with shifty eyes that constantly darted their surroundings, as if they were expecting someone to jump out from the crowd and lunge at them.
Their cloaks possessed artistic stitching along the hem of the sleeves and the edges of the cloaks, but they seemed to drown in the sea of black that made up the majority of the cloak's color scheme. Idly, Tsuare wondered how they might deal with the afternoon heat that was sure to come.
The other group was… entirely too extravagantly dressed for the weather, forsaking cloaks in favor of their opulent fabrics. She narrowed her eyes at them, wondering what could compel them to dress as they did.
They were a trio, two men and a woman. One man adorned himself in golden greaves and bracers, wearing a posh, white tunic that hugged his body tightly. Feathery decals dressed up the shoulders, complemented by the flowing onyx hair that straddled the plumage. His handsome features were sharp and angular, reminding her of a falcon or hawk given human form.
A secondary man was dressed in a black suit with a heavy, velvet mantle. A beautiful rose sat upon his left shoulder, adding a splash of color that matched the same hue as the half mask that covered the right side of his face. A fanciful hat sat nestled on his head, almost cute with its smaller size.
Likewise, the woman accompanying both men was dressed up in a stylish dress uniform, like the ones that she had seen the warriors of the Knights wear during social events. Her's was an olive green, an assortment of strangely shaped medals pinned to her left breast. A wide brimmed hat with one side stuck to the top covered her head as well, but it did little to conceal the youthful, pixie-like appearance she had.
Those three were speaking with their own villager, animatedly sharing stories and laughing. They seemed polite and courteous, but they were entirely out of place in such a remote area. They were noblemen to be certain, for no-one could have the money to afford the fabrics that they did.
A light tap on her shoulder brought her back to the man she bothered. "Are they friends of yours, miss? Those noblemen have been quite the characters, but their bodyguards are certainly on-edge. I guess I would be too if the people I was supposed to protect decided to take a day trip!"
"N-no, they are not with me. Sorry, but back to my original question…?"
"Oh! Oh, yes, we can talk about the others later. You wanted to know about our golden child, our little Desmond, right?"
Desmond? This really must be his home town then. Why did he never speak of this place?
The villager gestured grandly to the statue. "Our little Desmond is a war hero, conscripted as a young man into the annual war between the Baharuth Empire and Re-Estize Kingdom. He represented all of us by himself when the recruiters came for him, saving countless other young men from a horrendous fate."
More people had gathered around the statue, paying their respects to the image of Destrus. The man continued. "Why, one could say that he was like this village's version of the Chief Warrior Gazef! It is a shame another tournament was never held to make a second one, or else our Desmond would have been right there at the top."
"Wait, I don't understand. Desmond was really enough to equal several other men from your village alone? He must have been quite the impressive man," Tsuare lied, hoping to learn more.
"Aye, he truly was, exactly why I said he is this village's version of the Chief Warrior. He served in the Re-Estize army for many years after that, even becoming the private knight of one of the nobility. Sadly, we have never heard more after that, so we can only assume he is still in service to that nameless noble, or dead."
It's a shame you also consider the idea he's dead, given the truth of it. These people never figured out the truth of what he became, though? Something must have happened between his service to his nobleman and him eventually joining with the Knights themselves.
"Of course, let it never be known that we don't honor our village's heroes! Shortly after we received word of his successes, we made this statue by hand at the heart of Alenbonne. Beyond the occasional trader and curious traveler, we don't get many outsiders to appreciate Desmond's greatness, but when we do, we're sure to share the story."
"Do other villages know about Desmond? Given his fame here, I'd think that the nearby places would have at least heard of him."
The man scowled. "Those blasted fools are too involved with their own problems, not appreciating what Desmond was able to do for them. By going by himself, not only was he able to prevent several youths from our own village from being conscripted, but he inadvertently saved several other villages! But do those villagers care? No! Instead, they're content to grow black crops and make deals with less than reputable people to stay afloat!"
Tsuare's interest piqued at that. "Less than reputable people, you say? What sort of crops are they having the villagers grow around here?"
"Bah, hell if I know. They're some cash crop the nobility are likely gobbling up for the war effort, so it's not really worth the time and energy to investigate. I'm mostly glad to hear their fields are burning though. Serves them right for being so selfish."
Out of the corner of her eye, Tsuare saw that the foreign group of cloaked people were whispering among themselves, beginning to make their way out of the heart of the village and back between the houses.
Her feet were beginning to move on her own, leaving the villager behind. "Sorry sir, my companion and I should be off. I just realized I did recognize some of those travelers and wish to catch up with them. Until next time!"
Hannibal was quick to follow, dipping his chin in goodbye to the villager who grunted back. The pair began to trail behind their target, passing by the trio of nobles who were admiring the statue of Destrus. She accidently bumped shoulders with the woman in her haste to catch up with the other group.
Immediately, her shoulder smarted like she slammed directly into a rock wall. She grit her teeth and murmured an apology to the finely dressed noble lady, who gawked at her in surprise.
"Hey, be more careful where you're walking!" She called out to them, but Tsuare and Hannibal were already disappearing into the crowd. They kept about a group or two distance between them and their chosen targets, trying to weave through the dense group of people.
While they walked through the main roads and alleyways of the village, not letting the black cloaks out of their sight, Tsuare noticed that the throng of people, rather than thinning out, was remaining the same density as with the heart of the village.
Dammit! This village isn't that big, so how is it that so many people are still milling about at this hour?!
Her answer came in the form of drawing closer to the cliff-face, where she saw that, rather than being solid like she initially believed from her vantage point, had actually been hollowed out and built into. There was still an assortment of houses leading deeper into the cliff, holding yet more people.
It was not a total enclosed system like the Fortress of the Weeping King, being more akin to a spacious cavern. It was not very tall, the roofs of many homes scraping against the harsh rock and compacted together.
This was the work of either a few generations of digging or natural weather erosion, though she was more willing to bet on the former rather than the latter. Unfortunately for Tsuare, the group she was tailing was heading deeper into the cavern.
"Sorry Hannibal, it seems we're going to need to go back underground again," she said. Her larger companion sniffed but made no other comment. Both picked up the pace, drawing closer to the group but still remaining out of sight, fully plunging into the cavern of Alenbonne in their quest for answers.
Peroroncino thought that perhaps getting some fresh air would help to settle his nerves after repeatedly dodging Shalltear. He knew the right thing to do would be to approach Punitto Moe and see about possibly heading up to Carne Village to interact with some of the people that way.
It was what most of the guildmates of Nazarick were doing anyway. Some, like Mekongawa and Blue Planet, gallivanted off to the Forest of Tob for one reason or another. For the most part, however, everyone was getting used to exploring the outside world via slow introduction to Carne Village.
It felt like his feathers would fall off if he didn't try to get outside soon, beginning to grow stir crazy from cooping himself up in his room all day and hiding from the romantic whims of his NPC.
Which is how he ended up in this situation.
"And you're sure this place has been approved by Ancient One for scouting?" He asked Ulbert Alain Odle and Dynamite, his two partners for the day. "Why such an out of the way place like this? Why not, I dunno, send out more summons?"
"Because, my friend, Ancient One has no desire to overspend the data allowance we have for certain summons. We're nowhere near the cap, of course, but you know him. He never was one to take chances," Ulbert explained, soaking in the sunlight.
"Yeah! Plus he said that if I wanted to come out and vent a little, I could blow up some of the plains around here for fun!" Dynamite exclaimed. Her usual army outfit had been replaced by a dress uniform, since she felt the urge to dress a bit nicer than she usually was.
They were currently floating above a village that Nubo had recently found in his efforts to scry the country of Re-Estize. The ophanim was searching for any strategic targets the guild should know of, as per Ancient One's wishes. They did not rely on Nubo to [Gate] them to the village, however, as Ulbert had the spell himself.
Ulbert specifically made it so they would be suspended in mid-air, requiring the use of a [Fly] spell for himself while Peroroncino and Dynamite held themselves aloft on their own wings. The baphomet demon cited it was because he liked the way his cape flapped in the wind.
Peroroncino rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. I do appreciate you guys taking me out though, don't get me wrong. I just figured we'd get to see a major city or something, like Re-Estize. I was kind of hoping to see what kind of women were living there."
Dynamite barked a laugh. "Which is just code for you wanting to see if there were any cheap brothels. Finally got tired of looking at magazines and wanted the real deal?"
"Pfft, of course. I get a free, rocking new body and the ability to feel with it? You bet I'm gonna put in some kilometers with this. Plus it's a much easier choice to make that doesn't weigh as much on my conscience."
Ulbert hummed. "Ah yes, you must mean little Shalltear. Given the unique relationship many of us share with our NPCs, I'm not surprised you're feeling somewhat hesitant to pursue a relationship with her, despite her hounding."
Peroroncino's shoulders tensed a bit at that. "Uh, well, you know how it is. They're kinda like… our kids, so it doesn't feel right. Plus, with everything that's happened-"
"Hey man, don't worry about it, we get it," Dynamite clapped him on the shoulder with her wing. "Shalltear will understand eventually right? NPCs can't keep bothering you forever, so you just gotta stay firm and get shagged by somebody else in the meantime."
His friends shared a chuckle, which he only half heartedly joined in on. What he just said was his everyday answer for why he was avoiding Shalltear. After learning about how Solution and HeroHero were getting on with one another, it created a bit of an uproar among the guild as to how they stood with their own NPCs in their relationships with them.
A few had engaged in romantic pursuits with theirs, like Nishikienrai and Narberal Gamma, but most of the guild were friendly and familial with their NPCs. They expressed a similar argument like what Peroroncino said, and he heard it enough times he chose it as his cover story.
The real reason, of course, was because of his old love, Yua Nakamura. With how she and Shalltear shared a face, it was difficult to reconcile within himself trying to sleep with her, even if she was everything he'd want in a woman. He felt dirty, somehow, as if he was cheating on Yua with her little sister.
Ah, but you made Shalltear as a way of honoring her memory, remember? Shalltear has been trying so hard to catch your attention, so wouldn't it honor Yua more if you actually bed the NPC you made in her near exact likeness?
Peroroncino clapped his cheeks and shook his head to rid his mind of the thought, which amused his friends.
"Come on, visiting village peasants is not gonna be that bad man. Think of it like a history trip into the medieval ages, except it's the real deal instead of those cheap-ass VR headsets they gave you in high-school," Dynamite nudged him with a smirk.
"Indeed. Think on it, Peroroncino. One day soon we will be able to explore such places without restraint. Savor this moment, and perhaps learn something from the experience," Ulbert said as well.
"Yeah, whatever. You got illusion spells right? I don't like those amulets, since they don't match with my armor set very well," Peroroncino grumbled.
Ulbert's hand glowed with a spell. "Most certainly. [Widen Magic], [Disguise Self]."
A purple glow settled over the three of them, the usual self spell having been extended to all three of them with the use of Metamagic enhancements. Usually, that was more Dynamite's speciality, but she did not have illusion spells in her arsenal since she was a blast mage.
Having assured their disguises were in place, they floated down just out of sight close to the cliff-face. They had the advantage of it still being early in the morning, as the villagers were proceeding towards a statue at the heart of the village.
They made their way to the entrance, finding little issues making their way inside and coming face to face with the people. As expected, they immediately drew attention, due to their beautiful clothing and their giant statures. People, by some innate instinct, got out of their way, looking on with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
Once they got to the heart of the village, gazing upon the statue of what Peroroncino assumed to be a revered person, he realized something. "So, what's our game plan here? Do we just start asking people around for the news, or do we-"
"Excuse me, my good sir? Might I trouble you for a moment?" Ulbert called to a passing villager. "My friends and I are passing travelers, and we found your village quite quaint. Might you tell us a bit of its history, starting with the statue of the gentleman here?"
Peroroncino couldn't help but to facepalm while Dynamite giggled gleefully, a confused farmer making his way over. It seemed Ulbert Alain Odle, resident World Disaster and most powerful mage of Ainz Ooal Gown, was looking to play the part of a nobleman today.
"Er- Sure, yer talkin' about ol' Desmond here, huh?" The man said, scratching his head and wiping his eyes from the early morning.
"If that is his name, then we'd be happy to hear more about Desmond."
The man hummed and held his chin in thought. "He was a young 'un when the Re-Estize folks came. Tried to round up all our men and take 'em fer the war. He was the only 'un to go, 'cause he was so strong."
"Wait, he managed to take the place of so many conscripts? I sure as hell wish I had been as lucky when I got enlisted," Dynamite added in, crossing her arms. "Maybe then I wouldn't have had to fight in the Outback all those hellish years."
"You were a Re-Estize soldier too?! I didn't think they let women in the army, but you must've seen all sorts of crazy shit out on the Katze Plains. Yer brothers-in-arms probably ran into the ghost ship once or twice then."
Peroroncino could feel some of his feathers ruffle a bit at that mention. "What's this about a ghost ship?"
The villager whistled and then laughed. "Yer nobles, so I don't expect you to know better, since yer the 'uns sending people like this lady here out to war. But I'll tell ya, veterans from other villages that'd come visit would tell stories of a mighty thick fog rolling out on the plains. Said there was some monster captain manning the wheel. People who tended to walk in never came back out, but lotta soldiers know to avoid it."
"So there's a ghost ship just wandering around the plains, eating people, and nobody has done anything to stop it? Surely someone has thought of doing that much at least."
At this, the man laughed even harder, almost doubling over from how humorous Peroroncino's question was to him. He quickly shut up once he realized that he was serious, and then his mood turned somber, even angry.
"Aye, you think so, wouldn't ya? No, people like you are content to allow it to keep roamin', if only 'cause you're too scared to do anything about it! Not much the little folk can do about it, cause only the strongest in this world could bring it down, and our strongest hasn't spoken to us for the last decade."
Ulbert and Dynamite both stared at the man, while Peroroncino turned his eyes away in thought. The mood became a tad darker from the man's minor outburst, and now he seemed ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck, causing the hood of his cloak to fall away a bit.
Peroroncino didn't like the way that this random man had lumped his friends and him in with apparently uncaring leaders. It reminded him too much of the corp executives from his old life, and he could tell Ulbert felt the same from the way he clenched his gloved fists.
Only the strongest could bring down a ghost ship huh? Sorry to tell you this, pal, but I think you might be looking at them by process of elimination. It's just a shame we're not exactly supposed to be out fighting monsters and saving the day like we did in Yggdrasil.
Only that felt false too. Heteromorphs as a player base were considered the same as the mob monsters that all players farmed for loot and experience. There was no penalty to PKing a heteromorph player, and oftentimes it was even encouraged from the game devs themselves for "roleplay".
In that way, it was why Ainz Ooal Gown as a guild embraced the role of "monsters". If other players were just going to ruthlessly hunt them, while the heteromorphs themselves were barred entirely from entering certain cities, taking on certain classes, and grouping up with certain people, then they very well might just become the villains.
Everything was told from a video-game perspective, obviously, and so many of his friends crusaded as the monstrous villains for years. His eyes immediately darted to Ulbert Alain Odle, and his mind brought up both Temperance and Wish III.
It isn't a game anymore though. These are real people, with real problems. We're still the monsters, but now the world itself is alive. Maybe AOG doesn't have to be the villains anymore.
His musing was interrupted by the harsh retort of Dynamite. "Hey, be more careful where you're walking!"
Looking around, he saw two other cloaked figures dash off into the crowd, the smaller of the two having roughly bumped into Dynamite in their haste to catch up with a second group. Dynamite, of course, was hardly moved, given her natural strength, but it was the thought of the offending figure not stopping to apologize that upset her the most.
"I wonder what's got them in such a hurry, to be running around like that!" Dynamite growled, miffed at the rudeness. "At least say you're sorry, dammit!"
Peroroncino sighed while Ulbert chuckled. "Perhaps we should follow them then, see where they're off to so you can get a proper sorry. At the very least you can give them a thorough verbal beating if need be."
Pulling a gold coin out of his inventory by disguising it as reaching into a nonexistent pocket, the thunder-bird archer nodded. "We appreciate you taking the time out of your day to speak with us, sir. I hope things work out for your village."
The man's eyes bugged out of his head as he shakily grabbed the gold coin with both hands. His mouth gaped in a wide "O" shape as he glanced between it and Peroroncino. The divine archer didn't have much time to ponder his reaction, since Ulbert was already walking off with Dynamite.
However, Peroroncino's mood did brighten a bit when he heard the man quietly cheer to himself, and many of his neighbors gasping in surprise when they inevitably passed by him and noticed his new prize. He'd take his little victories where he could get them, if only because it helped take his mind off a certain vampiric NPC.
If there was one thing that Tsuare could take away from her trip to Destrus's old home village, it was that it was not as it appeared to be. The half of the village that was built inside of the hollowed out cliff-side indicated that much to her at least.
Which made it very easy to get partially lost as she tried to navigate her way through the various houses and alleyways between them.
Because of the way the sunlight filtered through the vast opening, it was still quite dim, save for the massive torch chandeliers that had been set up hanging from the ceiling. All this really did was create light spots that cast everything outside its radius in deeper shadow.
"Hannibal, did you happen to catch where they headed off to? Did they perhaps wander off into one of the houses? Did they give any indication that they knew we were tailing them?" She asked, looking both ways as she poked her head out of an alleyway.
She glanced back to see Hannibal shake his head, and she cursed to herself. "A pity then. For all I know, we were just following a bunch of slackers hoping to get out of the field work for the day. Even still, I find it odd that they never engaged with anyone, or even acknowledged there were people around them. Where in the world did they go?"
Hannibal grunted unhelpfully, his presence looming over her protectively. Though they did not know each other all that much, she still felt reasonably safe with him at her back, if only because of what Brain had said to him as they passed by the room she granted him.
Like her, he had been forced away from his home to run with a group he hardly knew. Unlike her, where she had made a new home and found a new family among the Knights, Hannibal seemed wholly separate from the bloodthirstiness of his comradeness.
His quiet, thoughtful attitude exuded an earthly trust that Tsuare appreciated, enough so that she brought him along for this trip. Not to mention, though she was ashamed to admit it to herself, he existed outside of the Knights, which meant if something happened on this trip, there would be no Knight casualties save for herself.
It's not a mindset I would like to adopt, but it's the most practical for the time being, at least until we rebuild our numbers. Perhaps, if all goes well, the people of this village shall also serve as useful reinforcements. One step at a time, Tsuare, one step at a time.
Hannibal tapped her shoulder, directing her attention to a nearby set of houses to the far right. She barely caught sight of the flapping cloak of a hurrying person, but she knew it was the people she was looking for.
She made sure to stay close to the wall, directly out of the exact light of the chandeliers up above. Hannibal, despite his oafish size, was surprisingly stealthy. It likely helped that he wasn't wearing any sort of metal armor, same as her, but that in of itself was a double-edged sword.
While she had no doubt she was agile enough to get out of trouble should the people they were tailing not take kindly to intruders, she was less confident having to maneuver around in the dimness of this area, as well as how cramped it all was.
This was also not taking into account the fact that Hannibal himself was not agile either. Their first fight had proven that well enough, but his raw strength could help to turn the tide of the fight and just as easily become a nuisance to their opponents.
That is assuming that the ones we're tracking are our enemies. I shouldn't make assumptions based on nothing, at least not until I have something conclusive to go off of.
Voices came from the window of one of the houses, the one she was heading to. She made sure to duck even lower, so that way she could crouch directly beneath the window and hear the topic of conversation.
Hannibal remained off to the side, as even when crouching his back would be exposed. He gave her a nod to indicate he was watching her closely. She nodded back, and then slowly peeked over the edge of the window to see the group of cloaked individuals. They were seated around a table, the shadows of their hoods obscuring their faces.
The harsh brightness of the inside of the house made those shadows all the darker, granting them an ominous and mysterious aura. Like when they were outside, their shoulders were tense, and one appeared to be shaking in their seat.
"Blast it all, I didn't think any of the Six Arms' sponsors would come to this village," one harshly spat, "I'd recognize that damnable rose anywhere. To think the nobleman of Malmvist would decide to visit this very village itself… it baffles me to no end."
Another one grunted. "Our sources have informed us that the Eight Fingers recently began ramping up production of their Black Spice as of late. I guarantee you those three were here to scout out another potential growing village, for why else would noblemen bother doing such things themselves?"
"I suppose you're right. I just wish we could have gotten a bit closer to listen to what they were discussing with that villager. I could've sworn that the nobleman with the feathery tunic handed him a gold coin!"
"You're joking!" The third figure asked incredulously, to which the second one reaffirmed his statement.
"Aye. It was just a fleeting moment, but when I looked back to see if they noticed us, I saw one of them was handing off a gold coin to the man. I thought they may have been trailing us, but they seemed to be after someone else, at least."
In the span of three seconds, Tsuare's heart had climbed into her throat and then re-settled back into her chest. She dared not breathe a sigh of relief, lest she give away her position and spook these people.
So far though, they seemed to be ordinary travelers. She hadn't witnessed the noblemen handing off money like they did, but a gold coin was an exorbitant amount of money to simply give away for just talking.
"Even still, if the infamous rose of the assassin Malmvist has been sighted here on a nobleman, then we must assume that Re-Estize's criminal underbelly is beginning to expand further out," said the first figure.
"I'd heard rumors from our own scouts that they may have had a slave processing village not too far from here, but I haven't heard much else. Perhaps we should pay the place a visit and collect any materials we can for our own experiments."
"Should I prepare to send a message to Executive Raksus then? He will be most intrigued to know of the development here," the third figure asked who were clearly his superiors.
"Hold off until we clear out of this place. I at least want to wait until Johnathan gets back from the perimeter sweep to make sure we weren't followed. We must be able to assure Executive Raksus of this place's viability for conversion."
So it's not just me looking to convert this place. Who is this "Executive Raksus" they keep talking about? Is he the head of one of the shipping companies between the different countries?
One of the cloaked figures sighed. "I heard Executive Khajit had been successful in his death spiral of E-Rantel. It's a shame he was taken down by adventurers. Executive Raksus has been distraught for weeks now. It's very unnerving to see him so upset, so I fear our news may put him in an even worse mood."
Tsuare's blood ran cold when she heard that. The rest of their conversation began to fade away from her awareness, becoming unintelligible background noise. She still made sure to remain absolutely quiet, but now it felt like she'd squeak like a mouse if she tried to say anything.
Death spiral… in E-Rantel? Destrus told me about those once, the ultimate goal of the organization that the Knights despise so much. Oh my lord, if they're here, the people are in danger! I need to handle them now!
Just as she was about to bolt and get out of there, she looked up in time to see Hannibal tense, his mighty bulk moving incredibly fast to tackle her to the ground. She heard a faint whistling in the air, which got louder and louder as a round, fiery object sailed towards the pair of them.
It never reached them, as the death lord that hid itself in Tsuare's shadow finally unleashed itself, blocking the projectile with its massive tower shield. It roared in outrage, stabbing with absolute hostility in the direction of the object's origin.
A shrill scream echoed out in the cavernous space, suddenly silenced by the sickening squelch of blade passing through bone. There was also the sound of chairs being hastily moved as their occupants suddenly stood.
"What the hell was that roar?!"
"Sir, I think that was a death knight! But I didn't think-"
"Shit! Jamie, send out a message to Executive Raksus! I think Johnathan's been made!"
Hannibal and Tsuare scrambled back to their feet, looking through the window with no regard for being found out now. Reaching into her cloak, she tossed Hannibal his trusty mace and drew Heatstriker.
"You're not getting away that easily. I'm afraid your visit to this village is drawing to an end," she spat, glaring balefully at the three members of Zuranon. They stared back at her in shock, or wrath possibly, since she still couldn't see their faces in the shadow of their hoods.
One swore. "Damn it all. [Fireball]!"
His right hand lit up with a circle of magic runes, glowing red-hot as a blast of fire sailed her way. Due to the short distance, Tsuare had no chance to dodge, so she drew her cloak close in around her and tucked her head into her chest, hiding her face.
Fortunately for her, the death lord was faster, dissolving into shadow and grabbing her, roughly yanking her behind its tower shield and taking the full brunt of the blast. Only the edges of her cloak got singed, but the magical fire began to spread quickly.
With shaking fingers, she tore off the smoldering cloak she wore. She threw what remained around the death lord's shield, who backed up and created distance but did not attack. She was confused as to why until she took a look.
She saw Hannibal had made it through the window and bashed in the skull of one of the members, his limp corpse hanging over the window sill. One of the two had drawn a dagger, attempting to get in a cheap strike while his younger compatriot held up two fingers to his head, hurriedly spouting out a message to his executive.
"Our majesty does know how to pick effective but brutal warriors for His entourage," she wheezed a compliment, "Your battle-wit is indeed worthy of His retinue."
She had been careless, allowing her momentary rage to cloud her judgment. She had stood up without thinking, ready to cut down the members of Zuranon and protect the people of the village. She sighed in disappointment at herself.
At the very least, she was thankful that her cloak had absorbed the damage that it did. It had been leant to her by the Master of Arms, for its thick, protective lining that could safeguard against even magic. Unfortunately, once it absorbed enough damage, it would dissolve and leave the wearer defenseless.
At the very least this day can't get any worse than it already has. I'll take whatever small blessings I can take-
"Hey, you! I don't know what's got your panties in such a twist, but at the very least you could apologize for bumping into me!"
A new voice made Tsuare's eyes bug out as she looked up to see the three noblemen from earlier coming in her direction. The man with the rose looked completely amused by the situation, while the man in the feathery tunic bore an expression of exasperation.
From the window, she could hear the sounds of battle slowly grind to a halt. Checking up on her partner, she saw Hannibal had a beefy hand wrapped around the throat of one of the Zuranon members, his mace raised overhead to deliver a killing blow.
He had stopped, of course, to see who the newcomers were. He raised an eyebrow in confusion when he saw the noblemen, particularly at the well decorated woman who stomped up to them.
She walked with angered purpose, her shoes echoing all too loudly in the hollow chamber. However, she did pause when she noticed the death lord that hovered protectively over Tsuare.
Now it was that woman's turn to furrow her brows. "Huh? What's a death knight doing here? Did Momonga send one all the way out here already?"
"Couldn't be one of his. They don't look like that usually, at least not when he summoned one," the feathered tunic man commented casually, alarmingly so. "Maybe it's one that spawned naturally in this world?"
The man with the rose on his shoulder sneered at her guardian. "If it is, I'd prefer to put it down now. They get rather annoying to deal with since they can tank a hit with just one HP left over. Shall I take care of it, or…"
"Pfft, I'm pretty sure I could one shot it with my bow. Let me take a crack at it and it'll crumble to dust. I heard Momonga managed to get one to drop its sword for him."
"Ooh! Let me do it! I'll keep the collateral to a minimum if you guys let me blow it up! I've been dying to have a little bit of fun, and we can be the heroes like Touch Me was at E-Rantel!"
The noblemen quietly debated to themselves about who would kill the death lord, not a single care in the world for the mortal danger their lives were in. Tsuare's eyes shifted from one person to the other, unable to believe just how easily they dismissed such a legendary creature.
Weeping King, my lord, if you can hear me, please just let me and Hannibal leave this mess alive and well. If not we'll, at least alive.
Evidently, her lord was not listening, as she heard the voice of one of the Zuranon members who managed to squeak, "O-oh thank goodness my lords! You must run, and quick, to fetch the guard! These members of Zuranon spell doom for the village by consorting with ghastly undead."
"You will shut your mouth and quit spewing your lies!" Tsuare was quick to the draw, realizing what the actual members of Zuranon wanted to do. "My lords, this is my protector, lent to me by my own master. The men my associate is holding back are the actual members of Zuranon!"
"D-don't listen to her! She is a scoundrel and a menace! What person with honest intentions would ever dare to consort with the undead? Surely no-one of this humble village, certainly not something like this death lord here!"
"Liar! You dare besmirch the Weeping King's good name?!"
Tsuare couldn't help herself for a moment, allowing the indirect insult against her liege to get to her. Her grip on Heatstriker tightened considerably, and the urge to dash out from under the death lord's protective presence increased by the moment.
Before she could do such a thing, however, the noblewoman tilted her head. "Wait, you're saying that she's a member of Zuranon and that you're one of the villagers here, right?"
"Of course!" The man pleaded, Tsuare noticing it was the man that Hannibal was holding by the throat. "I've lived here all my life, no more than a humble farmer. The last thing I'd want is to allow such vile monsters to attack my home."
That man put on as pitiful and groveling a look he could muster, despite being unable to see his face. His hood had remained frustratingly in-place, obscuring his features and preventing any sort of positive identification.
The noblewoman was less than impressed. "Uh huh, so if you're such a 'humble villager' how come you know what that thing is? Last batch of villagers I interacted with got shown a death knight by a friend of mine and they just called it an undead. How the hell would someone like you know what that is, let alone whatever a 'death lord' is?"
Her question made the man pause, realizing his mistake, a mistake that Tsuare had caught as well. She smirked to herself in satisfaction, approving of the noblewoman catching that slip of the tongue. The man with the rose on his shoulder tutted in mock disappointment.
"Truly, I commend you for the quick thinking, but you cracked just a tad under the pressure, hmm? You know, Dynamite, that was observant of you to catch that as well. Perhaps you should get a reward in being able to dispose of the 'death lord' as they called it."
The approval Tsaure felt quickly vanished, forcing her to backpedal. "Wait! But my companion and I are not Zuranon! We're of a different group, different people! We did not wish to dispose of the village, we came here to protect it!"
Unfortunately, the feather tunic man shook his head. "Sorry. We know about Zuranon and their little tricks, given what they did to E-Rantel. I think I agree with my friend here in that we don't take any chances. For your part, we'll keep you safe at least, miss."
In her haste to formulate a response, she was interrupted by a sharp grunt of pain from Hannibal, her neck on a swivel to see that he no longer had his hand around the throat of the member of Zuranon. Instead, the skin around his wrist was blistered and smoldering, and the Zuranon member fell to his feet.
What came next, Tsuare would only recall in bits and pieces, since everything that could happen slammed together all at once, forcing her mind to split its attention and try to take it on all at once.
The senior member of Zuranon leapt out of the window, only to cry out in agony as his leg was pulverized by a well-placed blow from Hannibal's mace, the juggernaut of a farm boy striking true. The junior member was nowhere to be seen, likely having slipped out during the chaos.
Her death lord rose to its full height and bellowed so hard it shook the walls. She saw the noblewoman raise both hands, alight with molten rings of runes as a spell of unknown power charged up.
"Hey Ulbert, grab that girl and the side of beef. They might not be Zuranon, but I want to know who this Weeping King she mentioned is."
"Certainly," the man named Ulbert said, two bells attached to his waist gently ringing. Twin, coiling black masses like liquid flame shot out faster than Tsuare's eye could comprehend, slamming the death lord away from her with impossible strength.
In the span it took her to take a breath to cry out for her protector, she was already by the rose laden nobleman, a bewildered Hannibal standing right next her in the grip of one of the fiery hands.
At the same time, the Zuranon member that Hannibal had destroyed the leg of was screaming profusely. "JAMIE! RUN AS FAR AS YOU CAN, LET EXECUTIVE RAKSUS KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE, HE MUST BE WARNED!"
No sooner had he finished was he smashed to paste beneath the bulk of the death lord, a pathetic exhale signaling the man's death. The legendary undead was quick to return to its feet, banging its sword and shield together in outrage.
"Peroroncino, make sure to get any villagers still stuck in their houses out in the open, I have a feeling Dynamite might go a tad too far," Ulbert warned, smiling cruelly at the undead.
"On it," the man now named Peroroncino said, his muscles tensing as he got into a runner's start.
The noblewoman, who the fledgling leader of the Knights believed was named Dynamite cackled madly. "Man, you have no idea how long I wanted to do this! Thanks for this, guys!"
A dreadful humming filled the air as the spell finally finished charging, apparently. An influx of air rushing towards the woman's hands. The contrast between the light of Dynamite's spell and the darkness of the cavern gave her a demented appearance, Tsuare imagining she saw vicious, inhuman teeth shining through. The way her hair flickered in the wind gave the appearance as if it were set ablaze from the embers of a spell not even unleashed.
"[Boost Magic: Globe of Invulnerability], [Maximize Magic: Explosion]!"
An orb of turquoise light enveloped the death lord, a heat unlike anything Tsuare ever witnessed before flowing over her entire body. Even as she looked away from the miniature sun that flashed into existence, she could still see that light from the back of her eyes.
A moment later, a distant rumble shot out, and then all she could hear was the distant ringing of what she thought might be her ruptured eardrums. Though, in her imagination, she could've sworn she heard maniacal laughter ringing about in her addled mind.