Something23: Do you really think the series lacks overpowered enemies?
Mohanedwiks: Thank you very much.
Pandoraactor55: This story already has a lot of characters, maybe too many. Since chapter 19, each episode represents a day or less of a story. I don't think that adding additional characters helps a lot to speed up events. Many readers ask me to hurry the arrival of Gilgamesh. I don't know the recipe for the perfect story, but I'm sure that trying to please everyone is a guaranteed disaster.
Kishey123: The idea of a hero saving the situation on his own may be classic in Hollywood, but it rarely works in the real world. I took the side of a "weak" heroine forced to use her brain to defeat an opponent too strong for her using economy, psychology, strategy, and military tactics rather than brute force.
Author's note:
I loved writing this episode. I start with two girls fighting for influence in a ballroom... and, one thing leads to another, the reader discovers that Demiurge is pulling the wires at the other end and that it is only a detail woven into the tapestry of a vast conspiracy.
This chapter is nearly twice as long as a standard chapter, and - miracle!- for the first time in weeks, it covers more than a day of action. You owe this luxury to the fact that I wanted to expose Demiurge's machinations from beginning to end so that you can see the kind of twisted plans he loves.
Intrigues and treasons
"Do not look away, I'm here before you!"
Miriel turned to the young woman with purple hair who had just stopped her, forgetting for a moment the Elisa Legrand lookalike. All eyes were now glued to them. Some women laughed behind their fans and the men spoke in a low voice. This would be the scandal that would make the gossip of the high society during the next weeks. While listening to the aristocrats, Miriel heard the name "Lady Airinn" several times and most of the audience laughed at the young woman who was quarreling with her. The ease with which the half-elf had turned the conversation in her favor had won the fickle favor of the crowd. The mob was almost always like that, they almost always took the side of the one who bit the hardest and they rarely defended those who were ridiculed. On the contrary, Lady Airinn provided entertainment at her own expense. Of course, in the crowd, nobody would have dared to mock someone better born than him... but the young woman with purple hair was not of a high lineage and no one would defend her.
The young Lady Airinn was stubborn, she did not understand that thanks to the Dress of Eraingui, Miriel benefited from the advice of a veteran of the guerrillas of the ballrooms, where the dresses are armor and swords tongues coated with venom.
"You seem to care little for the interest that a noblewoman has for you, young lady Miriel."
"For starters, you didn't introduce yourself to me. That's what any well-behaved person would have started by doing. So I don't know who I'm dealing with."
"I... I am Airinn Franker Devillier."
In the New World, the commoners had only one last name. Having a second surname was proof of belonging to a noble family... nevertheless; the families of dukes and kings sometimes had three or even four surnames.
"I see... Tell me, Lady Airinn, I'm curious about something. You see, I've escaped several attempted murders or kidnappings. Also, for security reasons... my security, but even more the security of Her Majesty Queen Calca Bessarez... my presence at this ball was not announced beforehand. Lady Airinn, how did you know I would come to this ball?"
Airinn blushed violently... and began to stammer. If she had been a bright person, Lady Airinn would probably have replied that she had not been warned of her presence and that she had improvised her little welcome speech. But, unfortunately for her, this was not the case. She answered the first thing that crossed her mind.
"Hum... hum... the Knights here... he..."
Miriel had no trouble feigning anger and surprise.
"What? It was the Queen herself who ordered that my presence be kept a secret. But you're saying one of the knights of the royal guard broke his word to talk to an outsider?"
Airinn was now as a standing jelly. She became confused by trying painfully to justify herself. The show turned pathetic.
"Th-that's... n-not..."
The Summoner's eyes flashed with simulated anger. She was sadistically amused to be (for once) the one who ridiculed a bully in public. The Player turned to someone she had recognized in the audience.
"The Royal Knights of the Holy kingdom of Roble are a disappointment. Pathetic. They run their mouths to cause great damage to Her Royal Majesty's security and reputation!"
Unlike most of the women present, Remedios Custodio was in armor. The Grand Master of the Paladin Order made no effort to hide her anger. After giving a furious look to the young Lady Airinn, Remedios clicked the heels of her armored boots and bowed slightly to the Summoner.
"Lady Miriel, please accept my apologies for the untimely behavior of the Knights of the Royal Guard, although they are not under my command, their unreliability is appalling." The paladin stood up to look beyond the crowd at the knights lined up along the walls or guard at the gates. "I promise to retrain them myself so that in the future they don't use confidential information to pick up pretty ladies."
A chill ran through the knights... the training provided by Remedios Custodio was compared to... a hellish nightmare. The young Grand Master of the Paladins was not aware (or concerned) that her physical abilities were well above the capabilities of normal humans. She demanded that all people training with her do the same exercises as her... even if they were unable to.
"This is a stroke of genius, you have talent" murmured the mental voice of Mathise d'Eraingui" By forcing Remedios to apologize to you, you made her very angry because she doesn't like you. But since she can't take revenge on you for revealing the shortcomings of the Royal Guard, she will take revenge on... Lady Airinn. I think I can assure you that Lady Airinn will be treated as plague-stricken from now on. No one will want to partner with someone who is hated by the Grandmaster of the Paladin Order. Moreover, by calling upon Remedios Custodio, you have just demonstrated your importance to the whole court."
"I had no intention of ruining Lady Airinn's life!" Miriel exclaimed mentally, suddenly realizing that this exchange of poisoned words had just socially destroyed Airinn.
The ghost of the countess did not seem impressed by the half-elf's belated conscience.
"Lady Airinn sought to ridicule you, to make you the laughingstock of the entire royal court."
"But unlike her, I do not desire and I do not need to marry a beautiful party or have a position at the royal court."
There was a brief moment of mental silence when Countess Mathise d'Eraingui finally replied, her tone was frigid.
"No, but you are trying to save Roble Holy Kingdom, If you have a method to achieve this while being the laughingstock of the whole Royal Court, I would like you to explain which one. In this room are gathered gentlemen in silk doublets and women in pretty dresses who came to dance. But they also are the warlords and advisers of the Queen. It is they you have to convince to accept the help of Elvil the great red dragon."
The party was drawn out long
Miriel had to dance with beautiful (and less beautiful) young nobles... some of whom gave her some very (too) direct compliments before explaining where their apartments were...
"Let's be clear" murmured the mental voice of Mathise d'Eraingui. "Society's values are very... free at the royal court. Young nobles of both sexes collect one-night conquests, as hunters collect hunting trophies. And, of course, the main topic of conversation for this whole high society is who sleeps with whom. On the other hand..."
"I have no intention of... doing anything with any of these nobles," interrupted the Summoner, blushing.
Some of the young nobles were very handsome, but Miriel found them disgusting. Their predatory smiles and their certainty of being irresistible enraged her, though she couldn't quite understand why.
"You are right. Beyond the immediate gain, you have no interest in yielding to their advances. A beautiful young lady gains more value at the court the longer she remains untouched."
The wizard quickly grabbed a drink to chase the disgusting taste left by their conversation. Despite her revulsion, Miriel had understood what Mathise d'Eraingui was getting at.
"I see: supply and demand. The smaller the supply, the higher the demand price."
"Exactly. A young wife in love with her husband can even attract the favor of a king if her reputation is untarnished. Often it is the husband himself who impels his wife to yield to the royal advances... It the king's favors often make the fortune of the legitimate husband."
Miriel emptied her glass with a strong urge to vomit.
Fortunately, it wasn't just the womanizers who approached Miriel. Many women of the aristocracy wanted to talk to her, sometimes because of her confrontation with Lady Airinn, but mostly because of the beauty products she made.
Sending Diolaine to offer some samples of her makeup to the ladies' maids at the castle was a stroke of genius. Gathering a group of women inevitably led to discussions about makeup, providing a quick and easy way to gain attention. The products created by Miriel were not only superior to those used by the ladies of the court but were also created by a half-elf from another world. This made them exotic and original, appealing to the aristocrats who sought to stand out from their rivals. Selling beauty products to the nobles of the court was a lucrative opportunity.
Since the products were created by a single person, they were uncommon and their rarity made them desirable for women who sought to stand out. What is rare is expensive, the number one lesson of capitalism.
Now, Miriel needed money and most importantly, she had to be able to justify the origin of her fortune. Individuals whose wealth had no justifiable origin often met a bad fate, attracting the attention of those who proclaimed it was the result of a demonic pact... Of course, the whistleblowers were just eager to protect humanity from evil demon summoners, it was merely a coincidence that they grabbed all the witch's treasure at the end of the trial (2)... wasn't it? In her case, her fortune was the result of a deal with Greedy Clutches, the Prince of Avarice. So The Summoner had very good reasons to avoid drawing attention from the church of the Four Great Gods.
Miriel had just proposed to an nth group of women of the aristocracy to visit her alchemy laboratory, an opportunity to discreetly sell makeup and perfumes to some noble ladies.
When they moved away a group of three people immediately replaced them... and others were still waiting their turn.
The Summoner smiles warmly for the first time in two hours. It must be said that she knew well two of the people who came to greet her.
"Baron Marcus Aquaire Breval, Baroness Cordelia Monsagan Breval, thank you for coming to see me. I'm not very far from bursting into tears... This evening is exhausting me nervously and physically."
The half-elf looked at the teenager who was with the aristocratic couple, having vaguely the impression of having met her somewhere. She was a beautiful girl with dark hair dressed in a dress certainly well cut and made of relatively costly materials... but amid the splendid court robes of the duchesses and marchioness, she looked like a lost duckling.
"May I ask you to introduce me to the person accompanying you?"
"It should be obvious," Marcus replied smiling. "Ederlath is our daughter."
"Oh... uh... yes."
Miriel would deserve a zero for her physiognomy skills. Ederlath looked like a younger version of her mother, with her father's eyes.
The teenager approached and... curtsied, kneeling before taking Miriel's hands and hugging them passionately.
"Lady Miriel, my parents have told me a lot about you. I... I want to thank you... Without you, my parents would have died and Targos would have been burned down by the goblins. I would love to become your friend and even be useful to you. I probably wouldn't have enough of my life to repay the debt I owe you."
Since the beginning of the evening, the Player had received mountains of praise some honest (but too direct) and others just to flatter her, she had forgotten these 'compliments' as those who had barely said them out of her field of vision. But seeing the tears of joy running down her cheeks, the sincerity of Ederlath Aquaire Breval could not be doubted. This made her very uncomfortable. Miriel was very shy and hated compliments. She was especially afraid that those who complimented her would want to see her act like the person they saw in her... and that she did not recognize in her mirror.
"I don't deserve so much praise, Young Lady Ederlath. My mission was to protect Targos, and I did. I am truly happy that the people survived but... I am not a pure and virtuous heroine. I did not act out of kindness. Jadalbaoth is my enemy and my mission is to defeat him. Defending Targos was just part of that mission. It was just a job I had to do... and I hated fighting, being scared and...and killing. During all the fights I really wished to be elsewhere."
As Ederlath gazed at her with an amazed expression, her father seemed more amused than surprised, barely containing his laughter. Meanwhile, the baroness rubbed her forehead in frustration.
"Miriel?!"
"Yes, milady?!"
There was some laughter in the audience as the half-elf almost stood at attention to answer.
"One day I would like to have a long discussion about what your parents taught you... saving the people of an entire city, not asking for anything in return, and then being humble when people thank you... that's the very definition of heroism."
... uh... Miriel had found her definition of heroism in manga and anime... filled with 'heroes' who strut around and proclaimed that they were the strongest. The idea of a hero terrified to the point of having a stomach ache did not seem... heroic, precisely.
She decided to change the subject of conversation before the Breval managed to make her uncomfortable.
The wizard leaned towards Marcus and began to speak in a whisper.
"Baron Breval, excuse me, but since the beginning of the ball I have been followed by a group of young women who say bad things about me... do not look at them directly... they are behind me, on the right. See? They're gathered around a beautiful blonde woman with drill hair. By chance, do you know who this noble lady is?"
Marcus glanced at them briefly.
"This is Duchess Cuarian Vestez Oline Demondidier."
"Could you tell me about her?"
"Do you remember that I explained that once the peninsula was divided into two kingdoms, one in the North, the other in the South?"
Miriel nodded.
"The Demondidiers were the rulers of the northern region, and Cuarian Vestez Oline Demondidier is a descendant of a younger branch of the royal family, making her the potential heir to the northern kingdom. She is also engaged to Caspond Bessarez, the elder brother of Queen Calca. There were rumors during the Queen's coronation that the northern region did not fully acknowledge her claim to the throne. However, Prince Caspond loves his sister and does not contest her rights to the throne. It was largely due to the prince's support that the northern barons eventually recognized Queen Calca Bessarez."
"At least that explains why our blonde Villainess considered herself untouchable" whispered the mental voice of Mathise d'Eraingui. "The implications of her hostility are... interesting, very interesting, even."
The next day.
The half-elf yawned while walking in one of the corridors of the castle.
The night had been short and Miriel had a cotton mouth. Not only had she been forced to stay until the end of the royal ball, but after Queen Calca had asked her to have tea in her apartments. Originally a little worried about this later-than-midnight conversation, the Summoner was left speechless when discovered that the queen had taken her apart to talk about her hobby... beauty treatments!
Many citizens of the Holy Kingdom of Roble knew that their queen was a genius who could use 4th tier spells at the tender age of fifteen.
But, in truth, Calca Bessarez's talents as a divine Spellcaster were focused on maintaining her appearance which helps keep her skin looking young. Thanks to experiments that Calca conducted on herself, she has developed new divine spells for skin care.
And, of course, Miriel had been invited by the queen to discuss the make-up that the half-elf made.
The conversation quickly turned to another subject that was dear to the young queen's heart. Love. Although she was in her late twenties, Calca Bessarez was still not married. Despite the pressure of all the nobles who asked her to find a husband, she did not want a marriage of convenience. Calca wanted to fall in love.
But the nobles, some priests, and even the people saw her celibacy very badly. As the Queen explained to her new friend, there were rumors that she would be in... 'relationship' with the Custodio sisters. Clenching her fists furiously, Calca Bessarez denied it.
As Miriel walked down the hallway, her forehead was wrinkled as she remembered the discussion from the day before. She couldn't help but worry about the matters of state. Calca Bessarez was undeniably a beautiful and pure young woman, a true saint, but Miriel believed that she was not the kind of leader that a country at war needed. Moreover, the support she was receiving seemed to be dwindling, and rumors were circulating about her homosexuality. Miriel suspected that these rumors were part of a malicious plot to tarnish her reputation as well as that of the Custodio sisters. She felt that during a time of war when unity was crucial, such rumors could only serve to weaken the kingdom. Someone appeared to be deliberately undermining Calca Bessarez and, whether intentional or not, this act was akin to playing into the hands of Jadalbaoth.
As she passed between the two royal guards in their sparkling armor and white tabards marked with the blue symbol of the Roble Holy Kingdom, Miriel looked around. The hall was filled with nobles and paladins in armor. Under a canopy, the queen had just taken her seat on an ornate throne and all those present quickly bowed. Miriel imitated them, but her mind was elsewhere. She needed to focus on the present events; after all, this meeting was the very reason she had come to Daggerford.
Several hundred kilometers away, the Abelion Hill.
The Dungeon had not changed at all since Miriel entered it (3). The defenders she had killed had been replaced, the traps had been rearmed and Demiurge had punished the Demi-humans who had fled. The demon was among those who thought it was always useful to give an example of what could happen to those who did not know how to be useful.
Sitting in a chair made of human bones, Demiurge was dressed in his usual orange suit with yellow stripes. Nevertheless, as he currently embodied 'Jadalbaoth', his face was hidden by a complex mask.
With a finger on the temple, he was answering a Message. The demon had given several scrolls of this type to his agents so that they could easily contact him. One of these traitors had just participated in the strategic conference of Daggerford Castle.
Under his mask, Demiurge smiled as he listened to the report of the traitor... everything was going according to plan.
"No, Baron, you did very well, I do not blame you."
Demiurge dipped his pen in ink and drew a red X on a ford crossing the Shelayen River.
"The main thing is that your battle plan has been approved, it is only a minor inconvenience that the Holy Kingdom Army does not participate in the offensive. I assure you, I already have a plan to destroy the royal army."
Of course, it would have been better if the entire army of the Roble Holy Kingdom had been wiped out in one fell swoop... It was exhausting that these pathetic insects refused to be crushed in one go. It's not like they deserve the time that Demiurge is wasting taking care of them. But, as he had just said, the demon had anticipated this scenario.
"Otherwise, how's your adorable little daddy girl?" said the demon in a mocking tone.
His cruel smile was accentuated as Adolf Damian Montombre Count of Valmy responded almost stammering. Jaldabaoth did not ask for news of the health of a little human girl because of his natural kindness... It was just to remind the traitor that the good health of his daughter depended solely on the goodwill of the Demonic Emperor.
Nothing amused Demiurge more than turning humans into mere puppets who danced at the end of the strings he pulled... especially when they were aware of it.
"I thank you for your continued efforts, Count Montombre. Once I have conquered Roble, you will be rewarded for your dedication. Have a good day."
Having ended the conversation, Demiurge resumed his work on his next 'sculpture'. The demon was de-stressing by the practice of art and his specialty was items of furniture made of human bones. He was in an excellent mood. The conversation with Count Montombre had brought him joy. Poor pitiable human, like all the half-intelligent creatures of the New World, Montombre was unable to understand the true plan of Ainz-sama. He believed he was saving his pathetic little life by betraying Roble for Jadalbaoth... except that Jadalbaoth was destined to lose this war! Montombre would therefore be judged and executed by those he had betrayed. Justice would always triumph in the end... It was a poetic truth of which Demiurge appreciated the irony.
The demon was again interrupted in his 'art' by a Message.
"Moshe-Moshe?" (Hello?)
Hearing another one of his agents' voices, Demiurge responded with irony, "What a joy to hear you, Prince Caspond Bessarez!"
Prince Caspond Bessarez deeply loved his sister. He was a classical inhabitant of the Roble Holy Kingdom, which made him a rather racist human. It seemed unlikely that he would contact the leader of the invaders of his country. However, the real Prince Caspond had been murdered by Demiurge. He had been replaced by a doppelganger who copied Caspond's appearance and behavior and took advantage of his status as the queen's brother to betray the Roble Holy Kingdom.
The true prince's remains were kept in Nazarick. Demiurge had planned everything. After Queen Calca's 'unfortunate' death and Roble's 'victory' (unless the queen dies after the victory, it changed so little), her brother would become the new king. He would receive the help and the wise bits of advice of Ainz-sama to rebuild his kingdom. Of course, it would be necessary to do a great cleaning of all traitors (and the list would be very long, including almost all nobles). Then, after two years, Caspond Bessarez would in turn be 'murdered' by Demi-humans of Abelion Hill and Ainz-sama will have the 'moral obligation' to intervene to 'avenge' his 'friend' by annexing Abelion Hill. Finally, during the state funeral (hence the interest of having magically protected the mortal remains of the prince) the Sorcerer King will announce that he is taking Roble under his protection... out of friendship for the deceased king, of course.
With a finger on the temple, Demiurge was listening to the end of Doppel-Caspond's report.
"I understand," he said. "Don't worry, Caspond. You were right not to insist that Calca Bessarez ask Ainz-sama for help. In any case, this part of the plan was abandoned."
After the conquest of the Re-Estize Kingdom, it was obvious that the inhabitants of the Holy Kingdom would not want to involve the Sorcerer Kingdom in their conflict with Jadalbaoth. But of course, Demiurge had a new plan.
"Let me explain the changes to this part of our strategy...
Briefly, Demiurge summarized the new approach to seize Roble without massacring the population.
"... nevertheless, you will have to wait for the arrival of Emperor Jircniv to begin your task. For now, stay passive, just spy on the court."
Demiurge was proud of his scheme. It was truly an idea of genius. Even Ainz-sama had been impressed. Most of the manipulators were content to support one side and hope to see it triumph. But this approach inspired only contempt for Demiurge. Why settle for one side when you can manipulate all sides? The demon influenced all factions fighting for control of the Holy Kingdom. Regardless of who wins, Nazarick would be the ultimate victor.
Hearing Doppel-Caspond change the subject to mention a private conversation with his 'sister' after the strategic conference, Demiurge frowned under his mask.
"Miriel? She is in court? ... Yes... She wants... what? Summon a dragon and an army? And what did you try to do to stop her from doing it? ... Ridicule her in court? And it turned into a disaster?"
The demon's voice vibrated with anger. Once again the half-elf sought to counter his plans. She kept humiliating him in every possible way.
But he quickly regained his good mood.
"Ainz-sama has nothing to fear from a dragon. He will defeat it without even using half his strength. No need to worry."
Underestimating his enemies was so typical of Demiurge. Right after Nazarick's appearance in the New World, he told Albedo and Cocytus that he could conquer this world in five years... At that time, the newcomers knew nothing about the geography, or the politics of the continent and they did not know of course what was the level of strength of the inhabitants. But it was not important, his victory was assured, he was a Floor Guardian in the service of the Supreme Ones... so a being infinitely superior to mere mortals.
Ending the communication after giving some instructions to his agent, Demiurge took a scroll from a drawer of his desk made of human bones.
He dropped the parchment and it unrolled, floating in mid-air.
"Message!"
The scroll ignited as communication was established.
"Sebas Tian its Demiurge. I'm calling you because Miriel has once again interfered with my plans. It seemed that Ainz-sama had given you the task of capturing and bringing her to Nazarick!"
After venting his anger on Sebas and then contacting Ainz Ooal Gown to inform him of the latest events, Demiurge felt much better.
Ainz-sama had reminded him that he had given him the Dragonspear so that he could face any opposition. Ainz-sama took the opportunity to explain once again that IT should serve to terrify the inhabitants of Roble and not massacre them. The ultimate goal was peaceful cohabitation between humans, half-humans, and Heteromorphs (4).
The demon entered the throne room and the Demi-humans gathered at the foot of the steps and bowed before him. This crowd consisted of the leaders of the main tribes of the Abelion Hills: Snakemen, Armat, Caben, Zenos, Magelos, Pteropus, Stone Eater, Spriggan... among many other humanoid species.
Demiurge... or rather Jadalbaoth... sat on his throne. Around him were three Battle Maids: Yuri Alpha, Lupusregina Beta, and CZ2128_Delta.
"I have come to inform you that it is time for me to join our army in North Roble. My victory is assured. I will join you in a few days with the head of Calca Bessarez. Then, thanks to my magic, I would destroy the Great Wall so you could storm Roble like a tidal wave and slaughter the population to the last old man. For centuries you have seen your children die of famine relegated to the inhospitable hills of Abelion you had to fight against the monsters that roam the forests. All this because of the humans! But the hour of your vengeance has come."
Some of the leaders cheered loudly for the demon as the program was to their liking. The others followed the movement with much less enthusiasm. They had been forced by Jadalbaoth to participate in the war; nevertheless, they feared the Devil Emperor too much to dare contradict him.
Beneath his mask, Demiurge smirked with amusement. He enjoyed seeing the fear and anger in some people's eyes, as well as the enthusiasm of the muscle-brains when told of revenge. He had formed the Demi-human Alliance by using promises and the terror he inspired. Suffice it to say that it had cost him nothing since Demiurge believed that mere mortals had no right to demand that a Floor Guardian of Nazarick keep the promises he had made to them. If they didn't like it, they could try to force him. Except, of course, they were unable to. The promises engaged only the equals, or the inferiors to their superiors. The weak existed only to be trampled upon by the strong. Demiurge saw the whole war as a kind of chess game, where he manipulated both sides for the sole benefit of Ainz-sama. Was it not the role of the pawn to be sacrificed for the king's victory? They should even thank him for giving meaning to their despicable lives by allowing them to die for the glory of a Supreme Being.
"Gate!"
The scroll that Demiurge had just used had created an opening that looked like a wall of black water covered with purple ripples.
The demon turned to Yuri Alpha, the only Maid remaining in the Abelion Hill.
"I charge you to protect the Dragonspear, it's the only weak point of my plan."
The beautiful undead Dullahan bowed deeply.
"Count on me, Jaldabaoth-sama!"
"Great!"
Without a word more, the demon walked through the door followed by Lupusregina Beta, CZ2128_Delta, and several hundred demons and Demi-humans that would reinforce the army invading North Roble.
Four days later, preceded by widely deployed scouts, a long armored serpent of tens of thousands of men marched under the banners of almost all the lords of the North.
Their offensive was a costly gamble in which they had invested the equivalent of the value of the last ten harvests. Nevertheless, the lords of the North had little choice. If they wanted to take back the initiative, they had to attack the Demi-human hordes and liberate their lands.
As Leyen Aristeia explained (5), the larger an army, the more food wagons it requires. The more food wagons an army has, the slower it is, and the more limited its range. This is called the logistic extension.
It takes time to equip, arm, and train an army capable of launching an offensive action, and even more time to store everything necessary for the maintenance of an army in the field (6). This explains why an army of beings made of flesh and blood very rarely attacks far from its bases and therefore an offensive is always risky.
—well, it's true for an army of living beings...because the undead armies are not subject to logistic extension's limitations.
Around four o'clock in the afternoon, the army of the barons stopped and began to set up the camp. As some of the men dug a large square ditch in the ground under the supervision of armed sentries, logging crews began to cut down trees in the nearby forest.
At the same time, horsemen were gathering north, looking for traces of the enemy.
It took them an hour to reach the ford south of the Sheylayen Gorge.
The scouts discovered an army of Demi-humans on the other side. These opponents had built obstacles on the bank to stop the cavalry, some troops were behind barricades. Archers were in the hills of both sides of the ford.
It was a position almost impossible to take by force... at least not without accepting very heavy losses.
Fortunately, the forerunners estimated the enemy army at fifteen thousand men, less than a quarter of their own army. Having gathered all the information they could, the horsemen turned back.
When they arrived at the camp, the sun was setting. The tents were now surrounded by a palisade reinforced with watchtowers and by a ditch filled with sharp stakes.
They were received by Aridian Vestez Oline Demondidier archduke of North Roble, the father of Prince Caspond's fiancée. As a descendant of a collateral line of the kings of the North, he had been chosen to lead the army of the barons. Beside him, in his tent, was another nobleman. Adolf Damian Montombre Count of Valmy was considered the main architect of the creation of the army of the barons.
They listened to the report, and then Montombre asked for the floor.
"My Lord, the testimony of the scouts makes me fear a trap of Jaldabaoth. The Demonic Emperor is as cruel as it is cunning. He may be only feigning weakness at the Sheylayen River Ford. If you take the whole army with you, we may all lose our men in one of the machinations of which it has the secret. Remember that he tried to drown our army in those same gorges!"
While the dam had been destroyed by Miriel and her friends, this did not mean that Jaldabaoth had not prepared another bad surprise.
The Archduke thought for a moment.
"We cannot go back to the first danger. Have we become old women to fear the battle?"
"My Lord, I propose to divide our forces. Some will remain here, sheltered in the camp while you advance towards the fords. If the enemy sets a trap for you, we will come to your aid... otherwise, we will be of little use to you. It's hard to take advantage of the numerical superiority of a river."
But the Archduke of North Roble frowned. He was astonished at a word his ally had just used.
"We?"
Montombre bowed one hand over his heart.
"Yes, My Lord, I leave you the glory of taking the ford. Instead, I take the ungrateful role of taking your back."
More than anything else, the nobles were looking for feats of arms that would earn them the respect of their fellow men. Few aristocrats would propose for a mission that was likely to be a sinecure.
"Very kind of you, Sir Montombre."
Montombre collapsed on his cot and sighed. After rubbing his eyelids, he turned to the slightly too-long shadow of a chest before whispering low enough not to be heard outside the tent.
"Everything went as planned, go tell your master."
The Shadow Demon briefly appeared as a humanoid with bat wings and long claws. Without a word, the 2-D creature left the tent to report to Jadalbaoth.
Demiurge would inevitably be the winner of tomorrow's battle. He had created the battle plan for both sides to choose the terrain, and if he had wanted to, he could have even changed the weather. And of course, like a cheating poker player, he had only dealt a pair of two to his opponent... keeping all the aces to himself!
In the early morning, half the army of the barons left the camp.
It was an impressive show. The cavalry was leading, with Archduke Demondidier on an armored horse at the head of the column. He was dressed in plate armor of mithril and ebonite inlaid with gold. His helmet was adorned with the open crown of a duke. At his side, his squire carried his shield as a standard-bearer followed him, raising high the banner of North Roble.
The other knights were almost as lavishly dressed and armed. Each had a shield adorned with his coat of arms and rode a magnificent armored mount.
The rest of the army followed: mounted archers with double-curved composite bows, light cavalry with flat helmets, and long spears.
Then came the infantry, first crossbowmen dressed in chains and carrying in the back heavy shields pavises. Then the archers in brigandines, the shooters formed the bulk of the feudal army. The archduke preferred shooting weapons because they killed from further. No soldiers had exactly the same weaponry, armor, and clothing as their neighbors. It must be said that medieval armies did not wear the uniform. The result was very colorful.
After a group of soldiers wearing half-plate armor and armed with halberds, a mix of peasants donning a combination of old armor and simple clothes advanced into the forest with makeshift weapons - converted agricultural tools. They moved forward in a single column, as the area had been scouted and the enemy was few, gathered at the ford of the Shelayen. The Archduke ordered the army to advance quickly toward the objective. Demondidier, feeling safe, thought he was out of danger.
However, he was mistaken.
Under his mask, Jaldabaoth smiled.
"Like all half-intelligent creatures, Archduke Demondidier falls into the most childish traps. Just show him what he wants to see and he rushes to the flame like a moth."
Demi-humans were hidden in the forest all around the demon, watching the human soldiers passing on the road. The humanoids had arrived during the night, in small groups, silently. During the dark hours, they had camouflaged their positions, waiting for the battle to begin.
Jaldabaoth turned to CZ2128_Delta. The automaton maid with long red hair was one knee on the ground, focused, an eye glued (her only eye because an eye patch masked the other) to the scope of what looked like a Steyr Aug assault rifle! It was a magical Sniper Rifle, a magic weapon unique to Yggdrasil.
"Now!"
The demon pointed to the archduke.
The battle began with a barely audible but bloody detonation.
The magic bullet fired by CZ2128_Delta pierced the archduke's skull in a geyser of blood.
All eyes were turned to the body of Demondidier slipping from the saddle. The men looked at the corpse, with big round eyes.
Then there was a big crunch and trees fell on the road, blocking the path in front and behind but also falling on the human column.
As men caught under the branches struggled and howled in pain and terror, a shower of arrows and spears fell on the ranks of the soldiers pressed against each other... hundreds of men fell to the ground like reversed keels, injured or killed. But the arrows continued to fall and the dead were piling up as panic spread among the trapped and leader-deprived army.
A noble lord in brilliant armor stood on his stirrups.
"Spread out, raise your shields... send men into the undergrowth to attack these damned archers!"
He would probably have given other good bits of advice but...
Bang!
Two bloody openings suddenly appeared on his helmet, marking the point of entry and exit of a bullet... the lord fell from his saddle.
CZ2128_Delta maneuvered the weapon lever of her sniper rifle and looked for another target.
There, a young trumpet player rang to rally the army around him
Bang!
Bringing the lever back, she ejected a case and mounted a new projectile from the magazine. In the scope, she saw a veteran crossbowman who had reorganized his comrades and had them shoot toward the woods. She bent her finger on the trigger of her sniper rifle.
Bang!
She saw the human head go backward in a geyser of blood, pierced from side to side despite his helmet.
CZ2128_Delta looked for another target. A standard-bearer rallying knights? Bang! Then another foe and another, and another... Tirelessly, the automaton maid aimed and fired...
Now, from all sides, the Demi-humans were coming out of the woods to storm the road. Here and there, there were violent clashes with human troops of a few hundred or even one or two thousand men who had maintained their cohesions and who resisted stubbornly. The Othrous (centaurs-like creatures with the lower body of a carnivorous beast) and Zoastia (furry humanoids with a sabertooth tiger head) swept over these positions, eager to fight enemies determined to sell their skins dearly.
In other places, the Demi-human Army was pounding on demoralized, dispersed fighters unable to resist effectively. As Jadalbaoth had ordered them to take prisoners, the attackers massacred those who resisted and stripped the others of their weapons before tying them up.
The Demonic Emperor was in the front row.
His hands turned into sharp claws, he had thrown himself on the knights in armor and ruthlessly slaughtered them... It was not a fight! It was an atrocious whirlwind of blood, with wounded horses whirring with terror and bloody nobles who died on the ground. Jadalbaoth laughed under his mask breaking the swords of his enemies, tearing their armor like paper... it was almost as much fun to slaughter them as to manipulate them to lure them to their demise.
At the same time, at the fortified camp.
Count Montombre quickly climbed the ladder leading to the top of the wooden observation tower.
Without even greeting him, the sentry showed him a direction.
"You see My Lord, the battle noises come from this direction."
Although Montombre was a traitor and knew the trap in which he had lured Demondidier, he pretends to think about the situation.
"The Archduke's troops are under attack, prepare for an exit..."
Of course, it was only empty worlds. He had no intention of helping the other army. From now on, his goal was to get out of here alive.
A roar made him turn his head. A projectile had just crossed the air and... There was a violent shock and a tent collapsed in the camp. The next moment a stone ball passed into his field of vision and fell on another tent.
Montombre leaned over the parapet.
"Spread out, the enemy attacks us with catapults."
In the forest, Lupusregina Beta was smiling, really in an excellent mood. The werewolf maid loved inappropriate jokes and her current mission felt like a very big joke.
Eight catapults were already in a firing position toward the North Roble Army's camp. But four others were approaching. Lupusregina Beta joyfully waved her hand toward the gunners.
"Hurry up, you'll miss the party."
For half an hour, three sides of the camp were attacked by the Demi-human Alliance. Hordes of Stone Eaters, Bladers, and Horuner threw fascines into the ditches and climbed the wall with their ladders.
Until then, the enemies had been repelled, but the losses grew more and more among the defenders while enemy reinforcements continued to arrive.
Montombre, however, had little difficulty in mimicking the calm of the old generals... because he did not have to guess the movements of the opponent... he had known them for several days. On the other hand, his subordinates were surprised that the enemy did not attack on the side of the main door.
"You forget that the army of Archduke Demondidier is on this side. If we saw the enemy at the North Gate it would mean that his army was defeated."
The other nobles nodded, faces darkened by worry.
Suddenly a running messenger entered the command tent.
"My Lord, a small troop of soldiers has arrived at the north gate, they are our people. What are we doing?"
"They are from us? Of humans?"
The messenger added: "I mean members of our army, out this morning with Lord Demondidier."
"What are you waiting for? Open the door and let them in!"
By the time Montombre reached the main gate, it was no longer a small group of survivors, but several bands of fifty to one hundred men who entered the camp. Most of them had given up their weapons to run away, they were often injured and all were terrified.
Count Montombre grabbed by the arm a soldier whose eyes were sharper.
"What happened? Where is the archduke? Where is the rest of the army?"
"We were ambushed... I'm afraid most of us are still surrounded on the road... unless they're all already dead. As for the Archduke, I heard that he had been killed at the very beginning of the battle."
All eyes were now turned to Montombre. The latter seemed to think, weighing the pros and cons ... It was just bad actor play. The count knew by heart the script written by Jadalbaoth and therefore knew what he had to do.
"We have no other choice. We have to leave the fort before the encirclement is complete. Men should not burden themselves with a heavy load, our salvation is in speed. Abandon the food wagons and everything heavy. Volunteers must remain here to contain the enemy... We won't all be able to survive. Some will have to sacrifice so that others can flee."
An hour and a half later, Jaldabaoth led his victorious army towards the North Roble's fortified camp. As he approached, the demon began to discern the damage resulting from the battle. The palisades were bristling with arrows stuck in the wood while the boulders fired by the catapults had damaged parts of the walls. There were many dead around, but even more living Demi-humans monopolized his attention. They were joyful and cheered the general who had led them to victory.
At the camp entrance, Demiurge recognized Lupusregina Beta. The werewolf maid knelt before him. "I greet you, Jaldabaoth-sama, powerful Demonic Emperor," she said humbly, though hiding her amusement.
"Archduke Demondidier's army is defeated. Report to me. Has everything gone well on your side?"
"I apologize, Jaldabaoth-sama, but part of the enemy garrison managed to escape under the command of Count Montombre," Lupusregina Beta informed.
Feigning fury, Jaldabaoth threatened his subordinate with his fist. "We will discuss it in more detail... when we're alone."
"Yes, Jaldabaoth-sama," Lupusregina Beta replied apparently in terror but with mischievous eyes.
Demiurge, however, was smiling under his mask. His plan went beyond defeating this pitiful army, and Count Montombre still had a role to play. His flight was part of the real battle plan. Having saved a quarter of North Roble's army and 'anticipated' the trap in which Archduke Demondidier had fallen, Montombre would likely be seen as a hero and a great tactician for the Holy Kingdom, making him an even more useful pawn for the future.
"What about the food wagons?" Jaldabaoth inquired.
"Most are intact, Jaldabaoth-sama," the werewolf responded.
"Good... we will have no trouble feeding the army to Daggerford!"
Demiurge had patiently waited for the northern barons' attack... From the start, he planned to defeat them at the beginning of their offensive and seize their supplies. Why sow and harvest, dig the soil, and melt the ore when the enemy was willing to do all this for you and even deliver it to your home?
Author's note: Court intrigues are rather complex, aren't they? An example? Lady Airinn bullying Miriel. The young woman is remote-controlled by the Duchess Cuarian Vestez Oline Demondidier... who was given the task of ridiculing Miriel by Prince Caspond Bessarez, her fiancé. A simple court plot? Well, this is what Airinn and Cuarian believe, but it is not. Caspond Bessarez died and was replaced by a Doppelganger. Dopple-Caspond serves Jadalbaoth, the Demonic Emperor, the leader of the Demi-human Army. So it's a maneuver of the Demi-human Army to make their camp triumph. Well... not really... Because you already know, and I reminded you in this episode, Jadalbaoth is Demiurge with a mask. He doesn't care about the claims of the Demi-humans and manipulates them to reach his own end... i.e. to make Ainz Ooal Gown triumph.
Did you get it?
No need for me to repeat my explanation?
This intricate plot is like a Russian matryoshka doll with several layers of superimposed intrigues.
The Sheylayen Ford Battle is another example of Machiavelism and complex cross-manipulation. I think I just wrote the most complex plot I've ever imagined.
Ah... above all, I would not want to hear readers praising Demiurge's tactical talents. Tactics are the art of predicting the enemy's battle plan and exploiting his weaknesses to defeat him. That's not what the demon does. He won by treason. It would bother me doubly if you congratulated Demiurge... first because this battle is a vile and amoral maneuver then... because since I am the author it is I who designed this plan... and it was quite disgusting to write.
(1) Do you think I'm making anything up? Read the "Mémoires de Saint-Simon" (Memoirs of Saint-Simon), by Louis de Rouvroy, Duke of Saint-Simon (1675-1775) on 3000 pages 30 years of Louis XIV's reign... this book is considered a masterpiece of French literature... it bored me to death (it is an excellent sleeping pill) and made me want to puke. All human meanness, all smallness, gossip, sex affairs, infidelity, small and big betrayals of the French king's court (the poison affair) ... spread out on 21 volumes! Between the first and last pages, you will have had the opportunity at least ten times to lose faith in human nature.
(2) Two examples from the history of France: the Templars and Jacques Coeur.
(3) See Chapter 4 "Intrusion".
(4) I often struggle to understand readers who sang praise to Ainz. Some claim he desires peace and a harmonious kingdom, but that's not the case. Ainz has slaughtered half the populations of the countries he conquered and forced the survivors to coexist with Demi-humans. Both sides have spent centuries at war, and both sides have committed numerous abuses against the other... hatred is immense between humans and Demi-humans. Except that Ainz decided (probably in a flash of genius) that the best solution was *drum roll* PEACEFUL COEXISTENCE, he had just invented the whole concept. This of course meant that Ainz had to FORCE the populations he had conquered to live together. Surround them with undead policemen to force the sons to live with the murderers of their father, and the mothers to live with the murderers of their children. It was so simple, why no one had thought of it before? Err... Ainz didn't invent anything new... Some countries on Earth work exactly on this principle, they are called Police States.
(5)See Chapter 11 "Deathtraps Valley".
(6) In Chapter 2 of his Art of War, Sun Tzu estimates that an army of 100,000 men in armor requires 1,000 iron bars every day. It's important to understand that an army in the field travels with blacksmiths who maintain and repair armor and fix and replace weapons. Additionally, archers would be useless if these blacksmiths did not make arrows for them.
