Suzuki Satoru's office on the 9th of the Great Tomb of Nazarick was typically a place of near-perfect silence, one only broken by the stamping of documents which often decided the fates of many, and by the flipping of pages covered in their entirety by only the most confidential of reports. The focused mind, however, did not actively register the true extent of such silence. Much like water was the natural habitat of a fish, silence was the natural habitat of a focused Satoru. Unexpected sounds were therefore to Satoru what being dragged out of water was to a fish. Yes, Satoru was not all that different from a fish.
Thankfully, the homunculus maids had little trouble remaining as still as marble statues for hours on end. Well, at least that's what they always claimed. Satoru did wonder if perhaps their noses or other body parts often got itchy, but the maids always simply choose to bear with it for the sake of their universally shared perfectionism, all while pretending nothing was wrong, at least to his face. The undead king wouldn't mind at all if they moved around at least a little bit for the sake of their own comfort, but the mere suggestion was met with a great deal of protest from those very maids.
Still, there was one kind of noise that did not disrupt the fish-like man's focus at all, this being noises he made himself habitually while thinking. Much like how some people put their hands to their chin during moments of rumination, many had their own habit unique to themselves. Peroroncino once revealed to Satoru that his sister, Bukubukuchagama, would occasionally make silly faces while pondering certain things, but only when she thought nobody was watching. Satoru, on the other hand, had recently begun absent-mindedly tapping on his own skeletal face with his finger, listening for how different parts of the skull produced a somewhat different sound.
A knock penetrated the silence of the office, followed by a male voice.
"Lord Ainz?"
Inhaling deeply despite the lack of lungs, Satoru closed the notebook containing his notes on what to say and ask about during this meeting before storing the object in his inventory, revealing a different set of notes underneath, one that would not embarrass him should anyone manage to sneak a glance at it.
"Come in, Demiurge."
With those words, the undead king averted his gaze from the opening door, taking in something else instead.
On Satoru's desk stood a tabletop picture frame, fitted with an appropriately sized portrait, one that had to be commissioned from a painter belonging to the tiny Fairy species in order to remain detailed even as such a size. Satoru thought it a rather charming alternative to photography.
Naturally, this portrait was of Neia.
It was also likely the only one in existence where she wasn't wearing her visor.
And it made him smile internally every single time he looked at it, making all the work much, much easier.
Soon enough, a bowing demon stood on the other side of Satoru's desk.
"Raise your head, Demiurge. Would you prefer to sit?"
"I appreciate your kindness, Lord Ainz, but that will not be necessary."
"Then let's begin right away. I believe you had some questions regarding my approach to the Sea of Trees?"
"Yes, Lord Ainz. I believe totally subjugating the Elven Stateless Nation would be a great boon with few drawbacks, providing us with a vast amount of fertile and strategically valuable land. With our plans for the countries to our far south in their later stages of conceptualisation, I must admit I still struggle to understand why my requests to act in the Sea of Trees are being denied."
"Yes, I suppose I've put off my explanation of that for long enough now, haven't I?..."
In truth, Suzuki Satoru acted almost exclusively out of sentimentality in this instance. He did not want to repeat what took place in his own world, where human short-sightedness and hunger for resources ruined nature beyond recognition, where greed and war sapped all traces of beauty from the earth, as they threatened to do with all else.
Blue Planet would not want such a miracle of life to be cut down.
And from a more pragmatic standpoint, future generations might grieve the loss of such a treasure, potentially aiming their irritation at the monarch who ordered its destruction. Or was that Satoru just being paranoid? Or was he just trying to retroactively justify a decision he would have made regardless? It didn't matter. The Sea of Trees would remain standing, its massive ecosystem full of endemic wildlife too wondrous to not be preserved.
But now came the issue of defending this conclusion.
"... Demiurge, are you aware of the idea of cultural heritage?"
"Cultural heritage? I... I'm not sure I'm quite well versed in the idea, but I might have heard it discussed."
"Yes, I probably mentioned it offhandedly at some point, but without too much of an explanation… Let's see, do you know why gold is valuable?"
"Because it-"
Demiurge answered instantly, and so the realisation came over the demon in the middle of the sentence, giving the demon pause. Satoru decided to finish for him.
"... because it is rare, and possesses a great beauty that also does not diminish over time. With this in mind, I suppose you already realise how the same principles could be applied to the Sea of Trees?"
The demon adjusted his glasses before nodding, brows furrowed as his mind processed the full implications of the statement.
"Yes, I see... And I see that I was truly foolish not to realise this earlier. Though I am still not quite sure how exactly the beauty of nature and land itself can be leveraged politically. Shall I ponder this on my own, or would you be so kind as to bless me with a glimpse of your wisdom, Lord Ainz?"
"It is a long term investment. Very long term. And keep in mind that not all wealth must be actively offered or boasted in order to play a role in dealings."
"I see. As expected of Lord Ainz, to consider such unconventional forms of wealth, and their potential unique applications! I struggle to imagine all the possibilities! I'll have to ponder them a great deal!"
Demiurge bowed, his tail moving back and forth.
"Thank you. Raise your head."
Satoru continued after the demon obeyed.
"In the meantime, we should continue cooperating with the scattered elven settlements to gain their trust, and therefore their knowledge."
"Of course. That was all I had regarding the topic."
The king was about to move on, but then, he remembered a promise he made to himself.
'Keep lies to a minimum… Being spineless has never seemed to work out.'
Satoru needed another glance at Neia's portrait before he could truly speak his mind to someone like Demiurge.
"... Also, I wish to honour the memory and wishes of Blue Planet. He always had a passion for nature. I think he wouldn't want the Sea of Trees gone."
The demon's lips parted briefly in surprise, only to close again.
"I see. Of course."
"... Then, moving on, have you estimated the time we saved during the Kutna Hora excavations compared to using traditional methods?"
In this instance, traditional methods essentially just referred to the use of human workers, and only using lower-Tier magic.
"Yes. The operation's achievements during the last 26 days would take a similar number of human miners roughly one year."
"Mmm."
That was extremely impressive, right? From what Satoru understood of the reports, almost all the greatest challenges of mining could be disregarded almost utterly through the use of undead. The expenses of food and clean water, including the logistics of distribution and managing a supply line, could of course be entirely ignored, as undead required no sustenance. The same went for fuel which served as lighting, as almost all types of undead also possessed dark vision. At this time of year, some sort of fuel would normally also be important for heating during rest, but once again, undead needed no such thing, and so the incredibly physically taxing work of a miner could be maintained at full intensity without pause, at all hours of the day.
Outside of being taxing, a miner's work was dangerous. Toxicity, cave-ins, flooding, other accidents… Well, cave-ins were still dangerous to the weaker types of undead, but the rest were obviously not. Flooding was a mild delay at worst, as work could still be done underwater, though at diminished speed. The one cave-in that occurred ended up not causing as single casualty, as the cave system was apparently large enough for Death Knights to be brought in en masse. While their vitality made surviving even significant disasters possible, their monstrous strength and size enabled them to use specialised, enormous tools.
But the inherent advantages of undead labourers were not the Sorcerer Kingdom's only trump card. Creatures with Commander job classes could greatly increase the abilities of nearby allies, making even the basic, low-level skeleton capable of impressive feats of strength, not to mention the more powerful undead at Satoru's disposal. The effects of Commander skills could further be stacked with buffs from arcane magic, such as a simple [Haste] that could increase the speed of certain actions.
All in all, such a result was only to be expected at this point. The excavations at Kutna Hora were merely the most dangerous and large-scale that the Sorcerous Kingdom had undertaken so far, an attempt to somewhat experiment one final time and truly bring their mining strategies to a state of near-perfection, in addition to simply gathering the extremely valuable orichalcum ore located there. In the near future, all known formerly abandoned mineshafts within their territory will be re-examined in case any more ore was missed, utilising high-Tier magic and techniques that would formerly be deemed too dangerous or unprofitable, all at depths previously unexplored due to the same aforementioned concerns.
A certain experiment of incredible importance was also conducted at Kutna Hora. The Sorcerer Kingdom had verified its ability to reliably conduct large-scale mining operations in total secrecy. A spell of the measly second Tier, [Silence], could muffle all sound in a large area, while [Gate] could transport all excavated material to safety instantly and without any known range limitations. Protection from potential witnesses could simply be handled by stealth-capable scouts that would remotely warn supervisors with [Message] so that an escape, once again through [Gate], could be organised.
"In that case, I approve diverting all requested resources to the ongoing mining project in the Dwarven Kingdom."
Satoru stamped a document following the satisfied declaration. From what the undead king gathered, that project involved secretly and hastily mining all the precious stone the Sorcerer Kingdom realistically could in a radius around the Dwarven Kingdom's de facto controlled territory, which was still smaller than their official claim. It was not going to be an easy task, but had great potential returns.
Being a state founded on mining, smelting, and smithing, depriving the Dwarven Kingdom of ore will cripple these three major parts of their economy. At that point, their greatest ally, the Sorcerer Kingdom, with which they've also recently began building the most efficient trade routes in their people's history, would be happy to help. From there, all other industries would struggle to compete with the incredibly low prices of the new imports, especially food, all of which would be artificially kept even cheaper, so much so as to be sold at a loss by the Sorcerer Kingdom. A great show of goodwill, one that the people undergoing a crisis and mass unemployment will appreciate.
And if their leaders realise how much this gesture of kindness could force outright economic dependency due to their own businesses dying out after being unable to compete, would they accept such a state of affairs, or impose restrictions on imports, only making things harder for their poorest? Of course, such a decision might not be received well. The hungry and lacking in income might not have the patience for explanations regarding the decision to turn away such charitable aid from a country that has already proven itself a trustworthy and valuable ally.
Regardless of how they choose, Demiurge estimated the result to be roughly the same. With some additional future meddling, the Dwarven Kingdom will be vassalised, or at least de facto vassalised, within a year or two. As usual, very slow compared to more direct and bloody methods, but the importance of speed paled in comparison to that of keeping the Sorcerer Kingdom's image as a mostly peaceful country.
Not just due to potential other players who might not take kindly to cruelty, but because of Neia.
Well, ideally, the Sorcerer Kingdom wouldn't merely appear peaceful, but genuinely do its best to be… that's what Neia would want, after all. That was the right thing to do.
"Then, moving on, regarding the situation further to the southwest... I read over some of your ideas..."
Satoru sighed internally before continuing.
"So, to state my concern plainly, are you sure doing all those things will have the desired effect? That's quite the list of steps you've prepared."
"I cannot be entirely sure, no, but that is precisely why I chose a method that would be so difficult to track back to us. I have been investigating possible undesired consequences, and they still seem rather minor. The sudden rise of such destabilising crime will provoke panic, at the very least, and panic should in turn pave the way for new opportunities."
For a plan whose success couldn't be at all guaranteed due to the region's complicated economic situation, it was rather bloody.
"I must say, I had something else in mind."
The demon furrowed his brows.
"What do you mean, Lord Ainz?"
The question felt as if it gripped Satoru's non-existent heart, time moving slowly yet far too quickly as panic slowly rose.
The undead king looked at the framed portrait of his beloved again. There was no backing down here. People's lives were at stake. No more spinelessness.
When Satoru met the demon's gaze again, it was with renewed vigour. He would become a man worthy of Neia's love.
"I am quite curious to see what sorts of plans we could create if we were to limit ourselves primarily to more diplomatic means. Maybe by seeing what the church might come up with, and only supporting those efforts, with an additional focus on minimising casualties? Perhaps you could think of it as a test of our new diplomatic resources."
While Satoru did not lie, he did not tell the full truth, either.
"Yes, understood, Lord Ainz."
Well that was quick. Satoru still had more up his sleeve in the case that explanation was insufficiently reasonable, so this seemed rather unexpected.
"Are you sure you don't have an issue with that? I understand it may seem a bit sudden considering the impressive plan you've already come up with, and the months upon months of surveillance upon which it is built."
"Not at all. I trust your judgement completely, Lord Ainz, just as I trust in Lady Neia's talents. Yes, I see now that I must have rudely underestimated the church's ability to influence social matters. I apologise. I truly meant no offence."
As Demiurge bowed, the king was momentarily stunned.
'Huh?'
Did the demon think that Satoru was accusing him of underestimating Neia since she was not a central part of all his plans, or something? Well, could it have been something else? Better play it safe, things going off-script like this made Satoru feel nervous.
"Ah, please raise your head. Let's just… move past that. Like I said, many of your ideas were impressive, but I suppose that I am simply not in a rush to capture new territory. After going over some of my own plans for the future of this world, I wish to take a bit of a step back and reconsider how we do certain things."
"Yes. Understood, Lord Ainz. Your wish is our unquestionable command."
... ...
Neia did not know where she was, so she looked around.
Neia was in a dismal city. It was during the war with Jaldabaoth.
Neia looked around more.
Neia saw Paladins and militiamen and hungry people and hungry children and dead people and dead children.
Neia looked around more. Neia saw the Captain of the Paladins, Gustav.
Neia walked over to Gustav and coughed because she had a cough which was not pleasant at all.
Gustav turned around, and was covered head to toe in filthy armour and Neia could not see his face because of his filthy helmet.
"Hello, Gustav."
"Hello, Squire Baraja."
"That's me."
"What are you doing?"
Neia smiled.
"I'm going to survive this war. Satoru is going to take me home and make me his wife and keep me safe forever."
Gustav sceptically raised an eyebrow.
"The Sorcerer King? Why would the Sorcerer King marry someone like you? You're not special or at all beautiful."
Neia got really sad.
"He said he loves me."
Gustav looked down at a nearby filthy puddle with a disappointed look.
"How long will that last?"
Neia started crying.
"But he promised he would love me forever."
Gustav patted Neia like a dumb dog.
"The Sorcerer King will change his mind. Love fades. Couples get divorced all the time, especially ones where one person is way too good for the other."
Neia got so sad she died and turned into a puddle of filthy water.
...
And then, it was calm. And quiet. And dark. With a yawn, the High Priestess looked around her bedroom. Ayame was still sound asleep, and since Neia woke up on her own, she still probably had some time to rest.
What a weird dream. Something about the war again? That's what half her dreams were about. Nothing important.
She just wished she could cuddle Satoru right now. Hopefully his work was going okay. Neia wished she could help him with that kind of thing. Neia just wanted to be useful and helpful because she wanted to help people, and really really wanted to make Satoru happy. He had such a warm, comforting and charming smile.
"Satoru… "
Soon, she drifted off to sleep with a smile of her own, comforted by thoughts of her husband.
... ...
In a rather chilly office whose furnishings were decidedly luxurious yet severely worn, a well-respected Paladin had just started his shift. While the order was technically an institution separate from law enforcement, that fact never stopped any of Roble's guards from treating Paladins as high-ranked officers even during times when there was no shortage of personnel, a practice endorsed by Roble's rightful and divine Queen, Neia Baraja.
After taking up his position in Kalinsha's city guard, Mattia Aiello never had anything in his new office replaced or repaired unless it was damaged beyond usefulness during the great demi-human invasion. As long as it was only for him alone to use on a daily basis, the man saw no reason to waste state resources or time on any sort of luxury, no matter how small.
... In the middle of reading another report describing a calm, crimeless night, Mattia's attention was stolen away by a knock on the office's door.
"Who is it?"
"Sir, this is officer Capelli, escorting a prisoner who wishes to confess as well as testify against guard misconduct."
Already suspecting what the matter might be, Mattia could not resist momentarily rubbing his forehead before responding with a sigh.
"Come on in."
The reinforced door opened to reveal a dimly-lit hallway, as well as the three people currently occupying it. There was of course Steh Capelli, his right-hand woman within the city guard, and the prisoner she was escorting, seemingly an old man, though it was hard to tell since Steh was blocking the view. Behind the two was also the guard patrolling that specific hallway, who seems to have followed Steh just in case the prisoner tried something. As someone who knew the woman well, however, Mattia could tell that Steh was indeed quite uneasy, but the source of that unease was something other than the prisoner. She did not at all feel threatened by whoever this handcuffed man was.
After Steh and her prisoner entered, Mattia was finally able to get a good look at the unknown man. He seemed to be in his twilight years, wearing simple clothes, ones not fit to be worn outside during this time of year for long, stained with blood... certainly his own, considering the severe bruising and swelling on most of the face. He might've also sustained some other trauma to the chest, considering the unusually loud, irregular breathing. Mattia spoke before the two had even properly taken their places in front of his desk.
"I assume he was already seen by a healer?"
"Yes. Only some initial basic aid."
"What is his name?"
"Renzo Cafaro."
The Paladin wrote into his notebook.
"So, what happened?"
Steh sighed while shutting the door, and only spoke once she stood next to the handcuffed man.
"... There was a credible report of a heretic. I went to investigate. Just me and… Vincent…"
Mattia did his best to maintain the composure expected of a paladin. With yet another sigh that he did however manage to keep somewhat quiet, Mattia addressed the prisoner.
"These injuries, sir, they were inflicted by that guard?"
"Yes."
He was clearly in pain when speaking.
"I see. What led up to this?"
Mattia shifted his gaze on the notebook, quill in position.
"I'm at home when I hear a knock. Guards, coming to question me about heresy. And I just said what I alwa-"
The man groaned in pain, clutching a specific chest area.
"I... I said what I always do... That it's just sad that so many of the nation's traditions were lost. Well, not lost. We didn't lose anything on a-accident, we didn't forget. The new church and the 'High Priestess' just didn't like 'em, so they made it everyone else's problem, wh-whether… whether we liked it or not... I just say we should be proud of our culture and history… And now I've got guards kn-knocking on me and my grandkids' door, only for me to get roughed up right in front of them when I say just that, even though it's... Even though I just say it how it is. I just say what we all know."
The prisoner's statement was accompanied by the sound of a quill gliding across paper, something that continued for a moment or two after the heretic was done. Mattia willingly allowed a speck of hostility into the tone of his subsequent question.
"Is that all?"
"Guess so."
"You mentioned living with your grandchildren?"
"Yeah."
"Do they have other surviving family?"
"Some distant cousins. But I take care of them.
"I see... You did admit to some rather troublesome utterances, it seems. You'll go back to a healer to see if anything more can be done for you, and then spend a week here behind bars."
"Are… are you gonna take m-my grandkids to their… relatives?"
"It could be arranged if they ask to be taken somewhere, yes."
"If they ask? So I su-suppose if they don't you'll… you'll just feed the little ones, or what?"
Mattia resisted simply calling the heretic a moron. Was he truly so ignorant of the holy laws?
"Of course we will. 'And so His Majesty kneeled before the youth, returning the ripe fruit to his hand. The bystanders saw their callousness, and offered fruit of their own in shame, becoming better for it.'"
After quoting the sacred gospel, Mattia let silence fill the room for some time before continuing.
"... Was that all?"
Neither Steh nor the prisoner spoke, yet it was clear the former had far more to say.
"Get the prisoner aid."
Mattia looked back down on the notes without waiting for an answer. Steh opened the door and began to lead the man back through the hallway, only to stop almost immediately before raising her voice.
"You there. This heretic needs a brief visit to a healer, and then a week in a cell."
"Yes, madam."
The Paladin did not gaze up from his notes as the woman re-entered, shutting the heavy door carelessly, producing a loud slam. In truth, Mattia was not adding anything to those notes at the moment, or even reading them at all. He merely found cursive a pleasant thing to rest his eyes on during ruminations.
"Vincent, he's..."
"Vincent is my friend too, and we all lost family in the invasion. And I know the war changed him. That what he saw changed him. That doesn't mean he isn't expected to keep his temper in check. We all told him to fix himself. He ignored us."
"So? What are you going to do?"
"What can I do? I'm just one rank above you, really. And that isn't even official."
"Bullshit. Your report will carry weight, and you know that. You used to drink with Montagnés, for fuck's sake!"
Without responding just yet, Paladin retreated deep into his thoughts, gaze still idling on fresh ink. Did he miss anything?
Mattia could picture the scene as if he was there personally. It must have happened right in the doorway. The old man admits his heresy, maybe gets in Vincent's face, probably being far more vigorous at that point, with a mouth likely full of more disrespectful things, since they've yet to be beaten out of him. Vincent snaps. Starts shouting something about where the old useless Gods were when his wife and son were being skinned, and why the heretic lacked gratitude to their actual saviours.
Regardless of whether the old man lived through Jaldabaoth's invasion through his own tenacity or just luck, it probably wouldn't make that much of a difference. Vincent was a very seasoned fighter, and would not have the clarity of mind to hold back. He might as well have been going for the kill.
The violence itself probably all transpired within a matter of seconds. Steh would already be anticipating it considering how well she knows Vincent. Yet she wasn't able to stop it. Must have been a tackle, then, which would also explain the chest injury. After that, Vincent punched the heretic's face repeatedly and with full force, all while wearing gauntlets. That's going to be a rough recovery for the old man. His face will probably never look quite the same. Won't heal before age takes him.
By the time Steh managed to pull Vincent away, it was only a couple a couple seconds, but far too late, with the heretic probably being in too much pain to move around at all. The chest injury could've been from the tackle, or one last kick or two as Vincent was getting pinned instead. He wouldn't fight back against Steh, so that was the end of it.
But these details don't matter, do they? Yes, if there was anything that could take blame off Vincent, Steh would have already mentioned it twenty times over. What he did had absolutely no pragmatic justification, not even if one were to stretch logic to its limits.
"... If I don't take at least preliminary disciplinary action, my word will be thrown out entirely, as I'll have no more rank to speak of in the first place due to blatant favouritism. Vincent is now discharged. If he gets rid of that tempter, maybe I could be persuaded to give him a low-ranking administrative position at some point in the future. Though that is only if someone ranked higher than me doesn't step in and bar him from any sort of guard duty permanently, on top of some time in prison."
"What are the chances of that?"
"Who knows? This sort of thing is taken very seriously, as you know."
"Internally, it is. But... maybe if we get enough people to appeal to whatever higher-up tries to take further action? Vincent has plenty of drinking buddies from the war who wouldn't hesitate to voice their support for him beating up some disrespectful, heretical old fart. From there, it will spread by word of mouth to dozens, or maybe even hundreds, as nothing more than a case of a war hero delivering a deserved beatdown, just to get reprimanded due to the church being way too charitable to the heretical scum who don't deserve it. The same scum who'd dare to hurl stones at Her Holiness, the same scum who assassinated the last Holy King in a pathetic coup attempt backed by the old southern nobles."
Steh made no attempt to veil her true feelings regarding Vincent's actions. Or the actions of any other violent vigilante, for that matter. To be a heretic meant to reject and insult their saviours to the point of raising arms against them. The belief that someone like that did not deserve any form of due process was, at this point, quite common in most of Roble.
"I won't have anything to do with that sort of… conspiracy. Conspiracy to dissent and challenge a superior's decision through such means."
"No one said you're expected to. But you... you were always..."
Steh's words trailed off. How would she have ended that statement? Perhaps something like 'But you were always his friend.'? 'But you were always the first to stand up for him.'? 'But you were always the brains of our old squad.'?
Their old squad... Of which only three remained. Steh, Vincent, and Mattia himself. The three which only escaped the initial attack on Kalinsha because of Vincent refusing to stop fighting even with three arrows piercing the gaps in his armour, because of Mattia managing to predict the safest escape route, and because of Steh rallying other survivors together to drag even the seemingly mortally wounded to safety at all costs, with this including the former two.
Mattia clenched the fist that wasn't idly holding a quill.
"... Yeah, that sort of public outcry could probably help ensure he'll get off easy... I could certainly have a few more observations about what that sort of group might be able to do to maximise the effectiveness of their protest. Maybe I could just so happen to innocently share some of them with my friend over a beer."
"Ha! Alright, I'll get the usual suspects together as soon as everyone's work day is over!"
"You're saying that as if Vincent being met with harsher disciplinary action is guaranteed. As if you're itching for this to turn into something. Don't forget it's all just a possibility. A coin flip, maybe."
Steh shrugged.
"Maybe a small victory like this would be good, assuming it all ends well in the end. His Majesty would do well to push the heretic swine harder… Ahh, how did the old man put it, again?"
The woman then began imitating the prisoner's voice.
"And when I say that, I just say it how it is. I just say what we all know. Cough cough. Wheeze."
Mattia continued silently resting his gaze on the notebook's pages, now wearing the faintest of smirks.
... ...
"... see, Ayame? Since the winter is coming, the flowers are falling asleep. Just like you, the flowers in the garden will sleep and then wake up later, but they will sleep for a very long time."
"Bubuh!"
Neia had angled herself so that the little Goddess in her arms could see the soon-to-be-hibernating garden, though it seemed Ayame was more interested in her mother, listening silently and curiously until an opportunity to respond presented itself. Neia also wondered if it was a little harder for a baby to move in multiple layers of clothing, thus making it uncomfortable to look in certain directions.
"Hmm, bubuh? Are you sure?"
"Uuu... Ah!"
"I see. You know, this garden is pretty much just worked on by me and your father. It's just supposed to be for us, as a family. But we don't really spend too much time on it at all, at least not yet. One day, you'll be big enough to join us, and we can all grow it as a family, and you and the garden will both get bigger alongside each other."
"Pa. Uh."
"Yeah, that's assuming you don't dislike gardening... But I think it seems nice, from what I've tried of it! Or is that just because I've always done it with him?"
"Eme."
... ...
"... and so His Majesty declared, 'Human or non-human, living or undead, as inhabitants of my kingdom, all are under my protection. All are to live in peace and prosperity under my eternal reign...'"
The man's vigorous preaching of the gospel could be heard clearly even in some of the church's back rooms, where it had momentarily stolen Vivian's attention. Focusing on what was in front of her again, the priestess found that she was not the only one to be distracted. Lika, with whom Vivian was supposed to be counting coins, was staring off into empty space with eyes that did not blink and a mouth that rested slightly ajar. Perhaps the expression could even be described as blissful. It was obvious why a half-elf might react to that specific tale in such a manner. Especially this specific half-elf…
"Lika?"
"Ah, s-sorry!"
Met with the young assistant's overly apologetic, almost frightened tone, Vivian felt a combination of disgust and unease instantly build up deep inside her abdomen. She managed to respond with a gentle tone.
"It's alright. Please don't worry about it."
Lika's expression and posture relaxed instantly.
"Thank you."
"It's not like I don't get distracted myself sometimes. Counting donations isn't the most exciting work, after all."
The women exchanged friendly smiles before returning to work, Vivian doing her very best to focus on the monotonous task, and not the tragic details of her assistant's life.
Yes, work. Counting coins from donations before letting them fall into large bags to be hauled off by those enormous undead guards. Donations were incredibly important to the church's survival in the early days, back when the one true faith was in its infancy and faced countless challenges. The perception around them had certainly shifted when Roble became part of the Sorcerer Kingdom, ensuring the church's funding and protection from outside pressures. At this point, it is well understood that donations are not at all necessary, but still very much welcome. That money, much like what was taken in taxes, was surely going to only the most righteous of causes, and so the people happily provided a steady stream of it.
Looking up from the coins, abacus and notebook, Vivian was reminded of one such righteous cause, the Sorcerer Kingdom's stand against one of the greatest cruelties of this world.
Today was Lika's first day working at this specific church, and under Vivian's guidance. Although they spoke plenty, it was almost entirely about the work Lika was being trained in. And yet, Vivian already knew a great deal about Lika. The half-elf's assignment to any given mentor was, almost certainly without her knowledge, preceded by a discussion regarding her past. The information was always shared in discreet, one-on-one conversations.
Lika was supposedly a former slave. It is not clear from what country, just that it was His Majesty's intervention that freed the half-elf from those horrible circumstances. From there, it was said Lika roamed somewhat aimlessly with her mother, city to city, job to job. Fortunately for Lika, it seemed joining the church dedicated to her saviour had finally brought the girl some amount of satisfaction with life, a sense of purpose and belonging. Of hope and safety. No one except those directly responsible for Lika in the long term knew anything else about her mother, except that both she and Lika were treated with great cruelty by their human master.
And that the mother is a pure elf.
And so, with Lika being half-elf, it is said that she was conceived as a result of her mother's abuse at the hands of their master.
Vivian had to stop counting for a moment. The thought had truly, deeply disgusted her, so much so that it upset her stomach a bit.
In the main hall of the church, all the attendees' voices had joined into one great chorus.
"... Glory to the Sorcerer King! Glory to the High Priestess! Glory to the Sorcerer King! Glory to the-..."
Lika, too, had joined in with a whisper.
"Glory to the Sorcerer King… Glory to the High Priestess…"
... …
"Ayame, can you say 'papa'?"
"Abwa."
"Ah, so close! Good job, sweetheart! And can you try to say 'mama'?"
"Uu?"
"Mama."
"Bu."
"Can you try saying 'mama'?"
"Ma-wa!"
"Ah, that was really close! Good job! Did you hear that, Satoru?!"
Neia shifted her gaze away from the little Goddess sitting in her lap, and to Satoru, seated next to her. Putting the notebook he was reading away into nothing, the king moved his upper body closer to Ayame, face glowing with pride.
"Good job, sweetheart!"
Their daughter obviously didn't know the exact meaning of their words, but the affection was of course received nonetheless, causing Ayame's still tiny wings to flap and stretch as she smiled. The spouses reacted in unison.
"Aww..."
"Ububu."
Ayame then reached for her father's face, and so he brought it closer while Neia continued speaking.
"That's papa, Ayame. Can you say 'papa'?"
"Baba!"
"Ah, so close, but it's with a 'p'..."
"Eh, close enough. I accept the title of baba."
Neia chuckled before continuing.
"That's papa's hair you're touching now, sweetheart. Can you say 'hair'?"
"Aiw."
"That's also quite close! Good job! What a smart girl! I'm so proud of you!"
Ayame then reached for Neia's left breast, pulling at the dress covering it while sort of opening and closing her mouth as if waiting for something to appear inside.
"Ah, are you hungry again, sweetie? Alright, let's get you something to eat, you little gourmet, hm?"