Unwavering 8 (Overlord, Zanac!SI)

Within a year from now, Nazarick was expected to come and I had been pumping money into various research outlets meant to prepare all I needed to get ready for that situation.

I had been working my ass off to gear up E-Rantel to be a bit of a fortress for what was to come, and I kept a loyal agent always posted in the Carne Village just for when that was going to happen.

At the same time, I focused on expanding the income of the region, dealing with lingering banditry, regulating the Adventurers' Guild to be more compliant to the national laws as their autonomy could easily become a double-edged sword in the long run, and even started to further expand the current available housing by adding more floors to existing building.

Experimental green houses were yielding some good results as it will soon be a viable option to promote farming within the city without risking drought conditions. It was still far from being a perfect result, but if we were lucky, we would be able to create a self-sufficient production of grain that would make warring less impactful on our grain reserves.

Shops were expanding, business was booming, and I was glad to hear that penal rehabilitation was sorting out a lot of redeemable individuals that been hauled in prison in the last few years through the use of 'humane labor'. But within this last project, there was a big fucking issue and it was currently being comunicated to me by this latest report that was sitting on my table.

"How reliable is this?"

"V-Very," The young secretary was some fourth noble son that was not Philip. He was not ambitious, and just liked to be 'serving under the great prince'. My reputation was doing a fine work in securing myself new loyal people, but I preferred meritably good ones rather than just loyal ones. "It's been a behavior that has been going for five months now."

I slowly nodded at this confirmation, but I still couldn't wrap my head around what I was reading. By what the prison warden was telling me in those lines, Clementine had been 'behaving exceptionally well'. The labor quotas that were given to each prisoners were gauged on their strength, previous occupation and weight of their crimes - Initially, Clementine had ten times the equivalent of the highest punishable sentence due to her strength, which then turned to twenty times after two months of 'easy handling' made it clear it was not a struggle.

The quotas were based around clearing old buildings, destroying swamps and other things with heavy surveillance of soldiers and the use of special reinforced chains. She had never tried to run away, focusing solely on doing what she was told.

The rest of her time was then invested by her in her cell, reading the few books she was granted. None of those books entertained things that could raise suspicions such as law or assassination, but rather the young woman would sit quietly and read about fables and fantasy books.

Time and time again, the reports suggested that the concussion may have truly 'switched up' her brain to be more aware of guilt and other elements that her previous self wouldn't recognize as important. Gone was the ruthless sociopath that was too much even for the Slane Theocracy's standards, replaced by someone with a more normal personality than most.

This was fucking heavily with my expectations.

I was also aware of 'Saint Clementine' as a possible route, but this was not like that. It wasn't just a sudden conversion to another class after being rescued by someone that 'blessed her'. No, her mind was still there and so were her curent job classes.

Clementine was actually no longer insane.

I could have seen it just as an act for a month or two, but it's been roughly a year if not more since she had been stuck with that mindset. And Clementine should have snapped at the lack of progress if this was a ploy to be let out.

Not only was she running on many unknowns for any 'plan' she may have, but she didn't have a place to go. With the Theocracy pretty much turning her in a persona non grata, there was nothing she could do if she was given a chance to 'get revenge' if not get targeted by everyone around her.

Thus, this whole 'she was doing the work of a month in a week' was actually not as simple as I had liked. Part of me wanted to just leave her behind bars and let her rot, but then I realized that if I didn't take this chance now to possibly recruit her, then I would have to face the permanent issue of Clementine being hired by Ainz as a spy.

At this point, Clementine was a non-aligned 'nutcase in the making'. There may not be insanity there, but a harsh bonk in the head wasn't meant to just purge anyone of their darkest self. She was just keeping it buried now that she saw no point in employing it, but it was still there to be then used as a weapon.

So, despite some warnings from Gazef as I mentioned a plan to him on how to solve this mess, I went ahead to get things changed for Clementine through a rather simple test. One that relied on some mind-screwing through RENDA agents on some of the more deranged prisoners and a 'revolutionary band attacking the prison during a visit of yours truly'.

The game was thus set, and it was time to see which side of the endless chessboard Clementine would take.

-d-d-d-d-

Life in prison is rough when you are monitored 24/7 for crimes you actually feel despairing over.

Clementine knew she deserved far worse than this but, at the same time, she was aware her true punishment was far more terrible than it may seem. While the guards were indeed there, none would speak to her or try to interact with her. There were no prisoners around her cell- she was utterly isolated.

The woman knew this was indeed the real pain: human isolation. No one to talk to but the walls and the books. Even during the time she spent outdoors, there was an unsavory silence that kept on chipping away bits of her renewed sanity. Many would have lost it after months of this, but Clementine felt her nightmares helped in keeping the 'demon' at bay as she imagined things could only go down from there if she allowed the monster out once more.

In fact, out of everything that happened after that duel, her newfound lucidity felt like a divine blessing rather than a curse. The pain of loneliness was indeed difficult to handle, but she could endure and adapt. The books were always there, reminding her that she wasn't to die, or that her food was never lessening as she was 'behaving well'.

Like a proper prisoner, one that, in a sense of desperation, was trying to achieve an absurd redemption that could never come to her - she just wasn't deserving of it and she knew it. Thus life went on within that foolish dream of freedom that was unwarranted just as the many horrible deeds she committed by claiming other lives.

Innocent lives.

Then something changed as... one day there were no guards.

The silence was far more disturbing in this case as she thought that perhaps something had happened. Something big- enough to warrant a lack of patrols within the hall in front of her cell. Yet, her confusion was met with growing dread as a group of prisoners made its way to her bars. They stood by her, eyeing her intensely and Clementine thought that was riot happened and that those were trying to either kill her or rape her.

Either way, she was planning to fight her way out of that mess right as the door to the cell was opened by one of those bastards and-

"L-Lady Clementine the Wronged! Please, take these! It's time- time for revenge~."

They were all bowing. To her. The blonde felt intensely shaken by the sight of her stilettos. She could recognize them on the spot, the runes still there. What was going on? Hesitantly so, she picked the blades and the leading prisoner nodded.

"Follow us, milady. It's time to assert the true meaning of order through anarchy! We have him, the Prince!"

...What?!

Her heart throbbed in discomfort as she felt a guttural fear at the mention of the young man. Prince Zanac was... there and he had been captured?! The idea filled her dark self with delight, but the current terror her mind flashed was not for show.

Even as she was told of this riot came to be through the help of some revolutionary officers, the mere notion that the prince, the second son to the king of this country, was currently held captive burned in her an awareness of what repercussions may come to them all.

The walk filled her guts with a deep panic, and even as the prisoners assured that she would be 'escorted to safety', she doubted this was the route to take. Her steps didn't cease despite her reluctance, fueled by another kind of fear tied to those that were aiding those weaklings.

If these 'Revolutionary Officers' were indeed strong enough to stage a riot and capture the prince, then it meant that they could have the means to dispose of her if she wasn't willing to comply to their demands. And it sickened her to the bone, both within her current thoughts and the feral snarls of her inner demon.

Her pondering couldn't develop too lengthily as they soon arrived to the room. A large room with a wide range of various criminals with unforgivable crimes. Monsters of all sorts, both demi-humans and humans. They were all cheering at her, at her weapons and at her role as the 'symbol of this riot'.

The 'leading criminal' told her the job she had to go through to be 'truly blessed': to kill the Prince.

Roped and chained to a chair, the young royal member appeared calm, his unease limited as he glanced around with defiance befitting of someone that she had the pleasure and displeasure to face in a spar. One that could have killed her but didn't, one that spared her from being treated horribly as a prisoners and yet didn't.

He was there, now turning his eyes at her. Eyes that could now hunt her if she went along with the demand pushed by the other prisoners. They cheered at her as she tightened the hold she had over her stilettos' hilts, twirling them and then contemplating what to do.

Either way, she was dead. She followed the request? She would die by a wanted royal murderer, she didn't and then she could face death by those unknown 'benefactors' that were trying to 'help' her.

Pragmatism was failing her and, in a rare occurrence, Clementine felt her mind regressing into something she hardly welcomed in the past: morality. Her dark self wanted to get revenge, even though it would put her through hell in trying to face the infamy that would come to her. We will manage, the voice mirthfully assured but the blonde rejected that idea as that wasn't the issue. It was the notion that the little hell of this prison would then be spread to the whole world.

Isolation driven to the maximum, to the extreme, and she could never hope to be spared by the repercussions of that action.

Still... she readied her blades and stabbed. The loud scream of pain coming from the nearest prisoner as she carved into the back of his head was enough to kill any cheerful noise- but Clementine didn't stop as her body naturally moved within a nimble flow of stabbing and slashing, electricity and fire zapping and blasting into the large crowd of scumbags within her reach.

It was a limited massacre, but one that left her empty within once she was over. Once it was just her and Zanac... Clementine looked at her weapons. The blood staining the blades usually had her excited, but the sight of it, the smell of it, the awareness of where it came from... she dropped her tools.

And then she fell to her knees, shaking and clearly panicking as she knew that she may be dead at this point regardless of what she could do next.

There was silence once more, but it was brief. Footsteps approached, a single person. He crouched beside her and she looked to him- it was Zanac. He wasn't bound by any restrictions... how?

"Good job."

The two words rocked her mind, confusion exploding as she tried to understand what had just happened and then he took a handkerchief from his pocket. There was some blood by her cheeks, she hadn't noticed until after she had been cleaned up and he pulled away.

"There's no revolution, this is... a test. And also a chance."

"A-A test."

Zanac stood up and nodded. "All those you slain, these were people that were condemned to life in prison for some of the worst crimes. They couldn't be rehabilitated. And they were filling space that could be freed for people that could deserve to be turned back to society. You 'saved' me, which means I could potentially grant you a pardon."

...

"W-Why?"

"You are confusing me and many others, Clementine. A ruthless killer that goes 'soft'? It's odd. I bet it is odd even to you. So, after listening to some advisors, I came to an idea- but one that relies mostly on what you want to do with what you have now: will you go to your cell and hope that redemption comes beyond your passing, or will you grant me the chance to have you as my bodyguard?"

Her mind was slowly winding up as she tried to make sense of his words. He was giving her a... chance? Even as he knew what she was? Even though she had tried to kill him back in the spar and almost did this during this 'test'?

"Do you- do you want me to be your tool?"

"No," He answered readily, surprising Clementine once more. "If I wanted a tool, I would have invested in creating a weapon. What I need is a 'Gazef' to my 'Ramposa'. I need a loyal 'captain' that is experienced but also aware that they can't be yesmen to me. I want you because you have no choice but either going for worse or for best. And because you hated doing this, didn't you?"

She nodded, her gaze briefly lowering to where her bloodstained weapons were.

"That's why I need a bodyguard, not a killer. I need someone that fight with purpose and reason- I don't need your old self back in control, I want to see more of your current one."

These words kept on drumming against her mind, sharply stabbing and sticking within her thoughts as she contemplated what else to do. It was a lie, she almost died for a lie - or rather, if she had given up to her old habits, she would have died.

Zanac was giving her a choice: to die a hopeless death as a prisoner, or to live long as someone with a chance to be normal.

No more irrational killing, no more violent murdering. It would just be protecting and... have a flag to bow her head to once more. But it wouldn't be the one of the kingdom, not the one of the current king, but of the one that bested her in combat, the one that gave her a fair punishment and that was now giving her an even fairer chance back at life.

"I-I accept," Clementine conceded, perhaps seeing what many had commented about the prince: a good monarch in the making, but an even better person than most rulers in this cursed world.

AN

Loyal Bodyguard getto!