Overlord, Vol. 9: The Caster of Destruction

Chapter

2
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Preparations for the Battle

1

One month later…

The court was meeting at Valencia Palace in the Re-Estize Kingdom. Gazef stood at attention beside King Ramposa III, who was seated on his throne. The captain of the Royal Select spotted the six great nobles among the many in attendance, and his eyes widened.

It was quite rare for all of them to appear at once.

The heads of those six noble houses possessed territory that was second only to the royal family’s holdings in size, and each had some field—whether it was military might, financial assets, or something else—in which they surpassed the king. Consequently, when the king summoned them, they often made up some sort of excuse to be absent. In particular, Marquis Beauleurope, the leader of the anti-king faction, never bothered to hide his disdain, and for a time it seemed as though the kingdom might collapse from within.

Next, Gazef’s gaze turned to the three royal children who were present.

The most eye-catching was the youngest, Princess Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself.

Then came the second prince, who had distinguished himself by working with the king for the people during the demon disturbance, Zanac Valléon Igana Ryle Vaiself.

Last was the eldest, Prince Barbro Andréan Yeld Ryle Vaiself, with his magnificent physique and neatly arranged hair. Marquis Beauleurope was working to make sure this prince would be the next king. He was probably attending the meeting at his request.

With Beauleurope of the nobles’ faction present, the discussion was sure to get stormy. To take his mind off the bleak worry he felt, Gazef observed the other gathering great nobles.

Of the three nobles who stood in the king’s faction, the one who caught Gazef’s eye first was the one wearing the most luxurious clothes out of anyone in the court, Marquis Blumrush.

He was nearing forty years of age. The fairly good-looking noble’s domain held both gold and mythril mines, and the precious metals they produced were enough to provide their owner with the greatest financial power in the kingdom. But rumor said he was extremely greedy, willing to betray even his family for a single gold coin.

In truth, Gazef had heard that he was betraying the kingdom and leaking information to the empire. The only reason such a character was allowed to go unchecked was because, essentially, they couldn’t produce any definitive evidence of wrongdoing. If they beheaded Blumrush, a member of the king’s faction, without proof, the nobles under him would undoubtedly turn against the king. If he was taking advantage of that fact to sell intelligence to the empire, it wasn’t a stretch to call him a truly terrible human being.

Next, Gazef’s eyes moved to the most youthful of the great nobles, the handsome Marquis Pespea.

He had taken the king’s eldest daughter as his wife and succeeded his father upon marrying. His ability and personality were still relatively unknown, but his father had been exceptional in both areas, so Gazef felt that young Pespea would eventually grow to be similar.

Meanwhile, the eldest of the six great nobles was Margrave Urovana. His hair was already completely white, and since he didn’t have much left, it looked like he had almost none at all. His arms and trunk were like withered branches, but he undoubtedly still possessed the dignity of someone who had many years of experience.

Margrave Urovana was the most fascinating of the nobles, as a person.

Standing next to those three were the attendees from the nobles’ faction.

First was the central figure of their faction, Marquis Beauleurope, who had the most land of any noble. He had numerous scars on his face and was a leader like a warrior. Since he was now in his fifties, his robust body, once trained to eliminate any weakness, was nothing more than a memory of past glory, but the life in his voice and his raptor-like eyes were vestiges of the warrior in him. He was losing against old age as a fighter, but as a commander, he was probably more talented than Gazef, making him a man of unmatched caliber within the kingdom.

Next to him was Count Litton.

The fox-like man was a whole notch less impressive compared to the other great nobles, so he was always trying to increase his worth in haphazard ways. If he could expand his own power, the suffering of others didn’t concern him, which gave him a rather poor reputation among the other nobles. That was why he attached himself to Marquis Beauleurope—to escape the hostility of his peers.

The last was a man who currently belonged to the nobles’ faction. His blond hair was slicked back, and he had blue almond-shaped eyes. His complexion was a special pallor reserved for those who rarely saw the light of day. That combined with his tall, lean figure gave him the impression of a snake. Age-wise he should have been just under forty, but his sickly skin tone made him seem far older.

Gazef had mixed feelings about that man—Marquis Raeven; he looked away from the noble.

What made the power struggle in the palace even more complicated was the matter of who would be the next king.

Marquis Beauleurope and Count Litton from the nobles’ faction and Margrave Urovana from the king’s faction nominated the eldest prince, Barbro, while many, regardless of faction, backed Marquis Pespea, husband of the king’s eldest daughter. Marquis Raeven supported the second prince, Zanac. Meanwhile, Marquis Blumrush acted as if the whole thing had nothing to do with him.

This situation was the reason the king was still keeping the throne warm. He suspected that if he named a successor as things stood, a civil war might break out.

Up until recently, Gazef thought it wouldn’t make a difference who became king, but now he personally supported Prince Zanac. Alternatively, he would have accepted the third princess, Renner, though it was a long shot. The kingdom had never been ruled by a queen, so it was probably impossible.

“All right, let us begin.”

The king’s tone of voice was just a touch different from the usual. Those with sharp ears had surely already guessed the reason they had been gathered. Those who hadn’t caught on earlier assumed serious expressions when they sensed the slight change in atmosphere.

“A herald came from the empire. Read the declaration he brought us.”

In response to the king’s order, the chamberlain standing by next to him read the parchment. Essentially, it read as follows:

The Baharuth Empire recognizes Nazarick, the organization led by the King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown, as a country, and the two nations have formed an alliance.

E-Rantel and its environs originally belonged to the King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown, and the Re-Estize Kingdom is unjustly occupying the land. It must be returned to its rightful owner.

If you do not comply, the empire will assist the King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown, in his invasion of the kingdom to reclaim his territory.

This is an act of justice to liberate the land from wrongful rule.

The message was just so absurd. Complying could only be deemed insanity.

“We did look back through the history of the kingdom, but there is no record of an Ainz Ooal Gown occupying the E-Rantel area, so this claim is naturally invalid.”

“Then it’s just some nutcase’s nonsense—not even a real accusation,” a stirring voice barked.

As if they took courage from Marquis Beauleurope, who had a history of military achievements, other nobles began to agree.

“The timing slipped quite a bit, but isn’t this just the empire’s annual invasion? They always come up with some excuse. Maybe this time, they simply couldn’t think of anything, so they dragged out that caster’s name. ‘The King of Darkness’ is quite a title… I’d like to get a look at this guy!”

Some chuckles went up in response to Count Litton’s comments. It had originated among his followers.

“However”—the count shifted his narrowed eyes, which could be described only as fox-like, turning his gaze on Gazef with a hint of condescension—“I feel like I’ve heard this madman’s name somewhere before. Am I wrong, Captain Stronoff?”

“…It’s the name of the caster who rescued me on the outskirts of E-Rantel when I was there.”

Count Litton broke into a sinister smile and said in an icy voice, “I see, so he must have saved you because he thought you were one of his people.”

Nobles here and there suppressed their laughter. No one admonished the slight. Gazef was born a commoner, so most of the nobles’ faction hated him.

The king might have spoken up if the insult had originated from someone in his faction, but as Count Litton was from the opposing faction, he could only furrow his brow.

“…Don’t you think, then, that it was the empire that burned the farming villages near E-Rantel? It seems like you thought it was the Theocracy, Captain. And the one who rescued you was Gown, right? Couldn’t he have been in cahoots with the empire? As someone suggested before, perhaps he was meant to be a spy all along? You didn’t see the corpses of the ones who had cornered you, correct?”

The powerful members of the six scriptures flashed through Gazef’s mind. At the same time, he saw Ainz Ooal Gown.

“…Regarding the corpses, it’s as you say, Count Litton, but I don’t think there’s any conspiracy. The ones who attacked when I was in Carne were stronger than imperial knights could be. They were giving orders to angels, so I have no doubt they were from the Slane Theocracy.”

“Why would the Theocracy do such a thing?”

How should I know?

It would have been such a relief to be able to answer.

As Gazef struggled to come up with a reply, help came from someone next to Count Litton.

“Who cares about the crazy caster? Don’t we need to figure out how to reply to the false emperor’s declaration, Your Majesty?”

“Marquis Beauleurope is right. What we need to decide is the kingdom’s response.”

“Permission to speak, please.” Marquis Pespea stepped forward slightly. “It’s impossible to accept the emperor’s declaration. It seems war is our only choice.”

The nobles became enthusiastic.

“Ooh, so we’ll drive them off, and then it’ll be our turn to march into
their
country!”

“Exactly. I’m sick of doing nothing but repelling the empire’s advances.”

“There can be no doubt. You’re quite right, Marquis.”

Their voices mixed with laughter. Everything they said was true, but it was also what they always said.

For the past several years, there had been a regularly occurring war with the empire on the Katze Plain.

In the end, the same scuffle, which always ended with the two countries merely glaring at each other or the kingdom taking a little damage, would happen as usual. That was the sort of relaxed idea that circulated among the nobles—they were used to the fighting.

But—
Gazef’s warrior instinct screamed that he should speak.

“Don’t assume that this war will stop at a dustup like before!”

The nobles looked accusingly at him, as if he’d ruined their fun.

“I see. So that’s what my captain of the Royal Select thinks. Please explain why.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It’s…” Gazef’s alarm bells were ringing because of a certain person. “It’s because of the caster, Ainz Ooal Gown.”

“Ah. And you’re the only one of us who has stood face-to-face with him, so I imagine we should give your opinion some weight. But what basis do you have for thinking that?”

Gazef was lost for words. He didn’t have a good answer. It was simply…what his warrior intuition was telling him—that making a poor judgment about this war was dangerous.

“My king… Couldn’t we give E-Rantel to the empire—no, to the caster?”

After a moment of silence, the insults started flying.

“Are you a coward?! For shame!”

It was the king’s faction shouting him down.

“You’re so indebted to His Royal Majesty, yet you would surrender his territory? Since when is that imitation emperor your master?! What’s more, you haven’t even answered His Majesty’s question!”

Of course, Gazef could say nothing in response to those jeers; he would have thought the same were their positions reversed.

“That’s enough.”

It was the king who gave him a hand.

“But Your Majesty!”

“You’re angry for my sake, and for that I’m grateful. But I would like you to remember that our captain is not the sort of man who would betray me. He has thrown himself into danger for me many times before. I can’t believe he would propose something that would work to my disadvantage.”

The nobles who had shouted at Gazef bowed their heads to the king. Then the king continued, addressing Gazef.

“Captain, you’re my right-hand man, and I trust you. But I can’t do that, even if it’s your suggestion. Handing over territory without a fight isn’t something a ruler can do. Besides, it would be unforgivable to do that to the people who live in the area. It would break the people’s peace.”

Getting all the people out of the territory would be a nightmare. Even if it were possible, they wouldn’t be able to provide them the same standard of living they enjoyed before. The end result would be forcing them to live in harsh conditions.

“You’re right, Your Majesty. Please forgive me for that foolish remark.”

Gazef bowed his head. A foolish noble—someone who treated the people of the land only as tools to produce wealth—would never have said something like that. It was precisely because the king had so much compassion that Gazef was devoted to him.

He recalled what he had said to his vice-captain six months ago when they went to Carne.

Didn’t you ever hope? Hope that a noble would appear in your hour of need? That someone with power would come and save you?

Let’s show ’em that there are people out there who will risk their lives despite the danger, that there are strong who will protect the weak!

The Gazef who participated in the royal tournament wouldn’t have been able to say that. Back then, he agreed with his vice-captain’s view: There weren’t any nobles who would put their lives on the line for peasants.

But then Gazef began serving the king up close, and for the first time, he saw that there were nobles like that. The only problem was they were powerless.

Sadly, many lives had slipped through his fingers. And there were many times that silly aristocratic pride had caused issues.

Still, the man he served never became rotten. The king constantly labored to build a country that made life easier for the people.

Gazef was proud of King Ramposa III. If he wasn’t, perhaps he would have taken up Jircniv’s offer that time and switched sides on the battlefield.

That’s how he felt, but dark clouds massed in his mind.

The king’s statement was true and just—that wasn’t the issue. The king had always been the kind of compassionate person who treated his subjects as people. But Gazef knew there was another reason the king was using such powerful words.

After the demon disturbance, the power balance between the factions had shifted greatly.

The kingdom was split into two factions in a power struggle: the king’s faction and the nobles’ faction. They had long been neck and neck, but now the king’s faction had expanded, and the nobles’ faction had shrunk.

Since the king led the way in driving off Jaldabaoth, he’d given the impression that he was a strong ruler, and many nobles switched sides and began supporting him. He couldn’t very well show weakness now. Because…

“But I don’t think the captain is wrong, per se—after all, we can avoid a war by simply turning over a single city. Preemptively shielding his subjects from suffering is also a king’s job. Wouldn’t a true king tear himself apart before bringing his subjects sorrow?”

The one commenting belonged to the nobles’ faction. There were a lot of high-minded ideas bandied about, but most likely he was interested only in chipping away at the king’s domain. Someone from the king’s faction immediately retorted.

“That land is controlled directly by the king! If you want to give land to the enemy, give your own!”

That sparked its own reaction.

“What are you talking about?! The empire is demanding the area around E-Rantel. What would we achieve by giving away my land way off in some other direction?! Think for a moment before you speak!”

As a result of the king’s faction growing more powerful, the nobles’ faction had grown weaker. In order to remedy that, their attempts to hinder the king had increased.

That was the cause of another one of Gazef’s anxieties. Because the balance between the factions had shifted, the efforts to chip away at the king’s power had grown. The kingdom was liable to break apart in conflict.

And that’s why the king was appealing to his strength—to not allow his opposition any chance to revolt. There was nothing wrong with that, but…

…wasn’t it incredibly dangerous for anyone who wasn’t allowed to show any weakness?

Gazef was lost in thought until he was brought back to his senses by the intense gazes from some nobles in the king’s faction. Their eyes questioned whether he might have defected to the nobles’ faction, since he had proposed giving away the king’s land. They stared with disapproval:
Have you forgotten all that you owe the king, commoner?!

“Hmph! All you need to do is ask the king to swap the E-Rantel area for your land. Then you could give it away!”

“Do you think it’s so easy to trade land? Fool!”

“You’re the fool!”

The childish squabble immediately drew the whole meeting into a clamor. In the past, any debate would have ended in a draw. But the king’s faction’s voices grew louder, and the nobles’ faction’s voices grew fainter.

Before, the king might have stopped this himself, but it didn’t seem like he was going to this time—because the king’s faction’s voices were louder, of course.

Anyone would find it hard to call a halt to a situation where they stood to gain. Plus, there was also the matter of the pent-up discontent.

Seems like he’s being fed sweet poison.

Gazef sensed the cold, dark will harbored in the eyes of the nobles’ faction members, and it sent a chill up his spine.

This was all because of Jaldabaoth’s attack.

Under the circumstances, having the king lead the charge was the best possible move at the time. If it weren’t for that, the line would have collapsed, and the adventurers would have been wiped out. They would have lost the Blue Roses, leaving the kingdom in the direst of straits.

But looking at the current situation, Gazef had to wonder if there had been a better option they could have chosen.

How would this court meeting have gone if the factions had been on equal footing?

I don’t know. But what’ll happen if we lose the battle with the empire? Will someone argue we should resist to the end? Or maybe they won’t? It’s possible the king’s faction will abruptly lose power, while the nobles’ faction will gain, but does that mean the balance will be restored? Or will it collapse…? Will a war that rips the kingdom in two break out…? Are we going to be all right?

He had the awful feeling that they were being manipulated. Even though it seemed as though they were making their own decisions, maybe they were being strung along somehow.

Could Sir Gown have planned all this…from the very first time I met him? No, I’d like to think that can’t be true. We only talked briefly, but I didn’t get that feeling from him.

Though the caster Ainz Ooal Gown had become his enemy, Gazef didn’t have a bad enough impression of him to address him without the “sir.”

He might actually be a peaceful rul— Oh, ack. I can’t be thinking disloyal things like that.

“Can we bring the shouting match to an end about now?”

The nobles knew who the gloomy male voice belonged to, so they quieted down.

That should have been the king’s job. That someone else should stop them made Gazef bite his lip.

That victory was so sweet.

He thought it would be all right. But would the king forget that sweet nectar? Would the king Gazef was so proud of fade away? He couldn’t completely clear the worries from his mind.

“Your Majesty, if we’re certain the empire will invade, we need to prepare ourselves.”

“Marquis Raeven, His Majesty can go alo—”

But Raeven interrupted the nobles’ faction member and spoke again. “Hold on. If His Majesty’s army was defeated, how far do you think the empire would advance? In order to protect my own domain, I’ll be lending all my strength to the king.”

Silence descended.

The kingdom’s soldiers were conscripted civilians; the gap between them and the professional knights of the empire couldn’t even be measured. The only way to win against the empire’s quality military was to overwhelm it with quantity. That’s how they had fought for the past several years. If they lost even when they committed large numbers of soldiers, it went without saying what would happen.

Prompted by Marquis Raeven’s remarks, the nobles’ faction members must have imagined imperial knights invading their territory.

The first to declare their support were the ones who had domains between the capital and E-Rantel. Then those who were close to them. Soon, all of them had agreed.

“All right. Then I’ll make sure our response to the empire doesn’t arrive too soon, so until our declaration of war is delivered, gather your men! I’m sure the fight will take place in the usual location. Gather there. Naturally, I’ll go, too,” said the king.

“I’ll accompany you to the battlefield, Father!”

The one who spoke was Prince Barbro, who had been standing by silently up until that very moment.

“…No, no. The first in line for the throne doesn’t need to be there. I’ll go.”

It was the second prince, Zanac, across from Barbro, who answered. Barbro’s response was crystal clear.

“We don’t need you!”

It was a harshly hostile tone.

Zanac’s suggestion wasn’t wrong. It was awfully dangerous for both the king and his eldest son to go to battle. Surely even Barbro understood that. But the reason he refused was because he saw his brother as an enemy.

That was also due to the demon disturbance.

During the demon disturbance, Zanac had patrolled the capital and was praised by many of the kingdom’s people. Meanwhile, Barbro never left the palace. Consequently, the number of nobles supporting Zanac sharply increased.

Zanac wasn’t terribly good-looking, so the gap between his appearance and his courage made him stand out. And conversely, Barbro, with his splendid appearance, was presumed to be a coward. To erase that harmful rumor, Barbro wanted to stand on the battlefield and demonstrate to the court his bravery.

As his physique would indicate, Barbro was a decently capable warrior. That being said, he was ultimately counted among those who needed to be defended; he wouldn’t have had a chance at defeating Princess Renner’s attendant, Climb, who trained till he was practically coughing up blood. But he was still the best swordsman in the royal family. If Zanac swung a sword, his body would be pulled around by the weight of it alone. Barbro refused to be seen as less courageous than such a weakling. Marquis Raeven once said,
What’s the point of members of the royal family being skilled with a sword?
but Barbro knew that he wasn’t as smart as Zanac, so he wanted to avoid losing in the area he could be proud of: his abilities.

More than anything, he didn’t want to fall behind in the contest for the throne.

Gazef’s stomach pained him when he thought about the dangers lurking within the kingdom.

He was thinking that if the king retired, he would follow him and live as his personal guard, but that could be tricky.

Was it wrong, as the king’s loyal retainer, to not save the lives he could if he continued working as the captain of the Royal Select? He also wondered if the king would even allow him to follow in his footsteps.

He could leave the position up to someone else, if there were someone as strong as him around, but he couldn’t think of anyone. In terms of power, there was one person, but he didn’t think that man would agree to succeed him.

I wonder what Brain will do now. What’s on his mind these days?

Brain was currently serving Princess Renner directly, but Gazef had the feeling he might suddenly go off somewhere. If he disappeared, it would surely be to improve his swordsmanship. It was a lifestyle that appealed to Gazef somewhat, as someone whose duties required him to stay in the palace.

He recalled how sharp Brain’s sword was.

They had sparred after the demon disturbance.

Both gave their all in the bout, but it ended with Gazef’s victory. Still, every time his hair fluttered in the gust of a sword slash, he keenly sensed the long hours of training Brain had put in.

He even had the feeling that in a few years Brain would surpass him.

If he succeeded me as captain of the Royal Select, I could focus on training the younger generation… Then the kingdom would have a chance at producing some outstanding warriors.

“I agree!”

Marquis Beauleurope’s voice brought him back. Now wasn’t the time to be mulling over the distant future.

“With your permission, I would offer you some of my strongest soldiers; they can double as guards. What do you say, my king?”

“Hmm, Captain, what do you think?”

Gazef couldn’t very well announce that he hadn’t been paying attention, so he pretended to think for a moment. He purposely ignored Marquis Raeven’s raised eyebrow.

It seemed Marquis Beauleurope was suggesting that Prince Barbro, whom he supported as the next king, go to battle. But he didn’t know for sure, so there was only one thing he could say.

“As Your Majesty wishes.”

The king nodded deeply, and Gazef felt somewhat guilty.

“Ah, I see… That’s fine… Then you can come, too.”

“Yes, Your Majesty! I’ll cut off that fake emperor’s head, Father, you’ll see!”

Hearing Barbro’s energetic response, Gazef prayed the busy days to come would send his worries out the window.

Marquis Raeven was one of the six great nobles and more adept than anyone when it came to politics. Some might assume the office where he shrewdly exercised his abilities would be gorgeous, but in reality, that wasn’t the case. Most people would no doubt be surprised to learn that many of the decisions that plotted the course of the kingdom were made in such a cramped little room.

All the walls had bookshelves, lined with neatly organized books and labeled parchments—a testament to their owner’s character. But that wasn’t why the room appeared small. Well, it was certainly one reason, but…

The biggest factor was hidden from view.

Marquis Raeven’s residence was built in brick with stucco coating, like most nobles’ mansions. Then what was special about the office? It was like any other room in the building.

Except that it was surrounded by a layer of copper plate built into the walls to prevent eavesdropping, surveillance, or targeting.

The room had no windows, so it felt rather cramped, but in a cost-performance sense, it was big enough for his purposes, so he had to make do.

Having returned from the palace, Marquis Raeven went straight over to the only chair in the room, set behind his massive desk, then dropped roughly into it. It was the careless way someone who was utterly exhausted would sit.

Then he covered his face. No one who saw him would think he was the most powerful great noble. He looked much more like a tired middle-aged man.

When his blond bangs drooped slightly, he pushed them out of his face. Raeven leaned back in his chair and grimaced.

Perhaps because he had relaxed a bit, the stress that had built up during the court meeting came bubbling up as anger. It easily hit critical mass and became a roar that echoed into the void.

“They’re all idiots!”

Not a single one of them understood the situation. Or if they did and they were allowing events to continue this way, that made them terrible conspirators.

The kingdom was actually quite cornered.

Due to the empire’s frequent harassment, all sorts of dangers were gradually piling up, as exemplified by the looming food shortage.

The only reason the massive cracks weren’t visible yet was because the nobles were convinced that they had to endure only until they drove away the other faction.

The empire could field professional warriors—knights—but the kingdom had nothing like that. In order to resist the empire’s invasion, they needed to round up ordinary folks and create an army of conscripts. Consequently, that left the villages shorthanded for a season.

The empire understood that, naturally bringing them to target the harvest season.

It went without saying what a problem it was to have male workhands absent from the fields during the busiest season. Some probably thought the answer was to simply stop recruiting so many commoners. But unless the kingdom gathered several times the numbers of the imperial knights, who were both disciplined combat professionals and well outfitted, their conscript army would be defeated all too easily.

Actually, there was one time the kingdom suffered greatly because it didn’t draft enough men. At the time, Gazef led a successful counterattack that managed to take out two of the “previous” Four, so the fight ended with both sides hurt. Still, it could probably be counted as the kingdom’s defeat, considering the resulting drop in its national power on top of all the lives lost.

And yet…

“That trash is betraying us! Those other idiots are consumed in a power struggle! And these morons are sowing discord!”

Marquis Blumrush, one of the six great nobles, was betraying the kingdom and selling intelligence to the empire. Nobles were fighting among themselves in the king’s and nobles’ factions. The princes were competing for succession.

Marquis Raeven let out all his resentment as he pounded his desk.

“And then there’s the king! He’s no fool, and I know he isn’t acting in his own interests, but how thoughtless can he be?! If he doesn’t turn over the throne soon, the fighting will only worsen! Princess Renner created this advantage for the king’s faction, so he should have passed his authority to the next generation and been done with it!”

The one who suggested that the king should join the battle during the demon disturbance had been the Golden Princess, Renner.

As a result, the influence of the king’s faction dramatically increased. If the king had abdicated in favor of Prince Zanac right then, it probably would have gone smoothly, but…

“This is all because he took pity on his eldest. I empathize, but what’s important here? Isn’t there anyone with a brain who can do a little thinking?”

Actually, those people existed, but most of them were already in Marquis Raeven’s faction.

Instead of gathering all of them on his side, he wished he had strategically placed them in the other faction to manipulate it from within. Not only did he regret his past self’s mistake, he practically ripped his hair out at the fact that there didn’t seem to be any smart nobles in the opposition.

“They’re all so weak!” He howled, thinking of the nobles no more intelligent than goblins who could see only the food dangling in front of their eyes. “But—what should I do? Think!”

Breathing raggedly, he racked his brain.

He had to think of a way to keep the kingdom going despite the ordeals that were sure to continue.

“First, the upcoming war with the empire is a significant risk. Ainz Ooal Gown is said to be quite powerful. We should assume we’ll take at least ten thousand losses and think about where to go from there. At the same time, we need to get the next king into power…”

He organized his thoughts by saying them aloud. Really, he would have liked to have someone to consult with. That was precisely why he was supporting Prince Zanac.

The second prince was Raeven’s sole ally in the royal family—well, he had found another in Princess Renner. Their alliance worked because they understood the current dangers in the same way and plotted their course accordingly with an eye on the future.

If he could get Prince Zanac onto the throne, at the very least the weight on his right shoulder would be lifted.

“…He said he would make me his prime minister, and it probably wasn’t a joke, so the weight on my left shoulder will probably stay the same. Even so, the kingdom’s situation should improve.”

Marquis Raeven’s goal for the near future was to ensure Prince Zanac became king. If he failed, the kingdom would be one step closer to ruin.

“Now I have Princess Renner’s help, so things should become slightly easier in the future…”

Muttering his ideas and strategies as he pondered, Marquis Raeven sighed deeply.

Sometimes he wanted to leave it all behind.

On more than one or two occasions, he entertained the idea of simply destroying everything out of frustration.

He was building a castle in the sand, but there were children running amok. Under those circumstances, destructive desires probably couldn’t be helped. But there was a reason he was able to endure.

Knock, knock.

The sound came from lower on the door. For a moment, Marquis Raeven’s face was completely out of character. It was almost like his expression had melted—the corners of his eyes lowered and his lips relaxed.

“Oops, that won’t do. Can’t be looking like that.”

He forced himself to pull it together, smacked his cheeks lightly, and fixed his messy hair. Then he raised his voice so the person on the other side of the metallic door would be able to hear. He made sure his voice was gentle and not angry.

“Come in.”

The speed at which the heavy door opened indicated how much the person who pushed it had waited for that moment.

A child appeared.

The adorable, innocent boy’s cheeks stood out pretty and pink against his white skin. He was probably around five years old. He ran across the room to Marquis Raeven’s lap.

“It’s not very becoming to run indoors,” a woman’s voice called after him.

Her face was beautiful, but there was something melancholic about her. The most fitting word was perhaps
cheerless
. The quality of her clothing was good, but the dress was a somewhat somber color.

She bowed her head to Marquis Raeven and then smiled faintly.

When was it that my wife finally began to smile?

He suddenly recalled how things used to be.

When the marquis was younger, there was a time when he harbored the ambition that any talented youth would: acquiring the throne.

The irreverent dream of usurping the crown.

To a young marquis who was confident in his quick wits, that was what he considered the most appropriate life goal. He devoted himself to his ambitions. He expanded his influence, collected wealth, made connections, defeated his political rivals…

Taking a wife had been merely another means to an end. If being married would increase his standing, he didn’t care what sort of woman became his bride. In the end, it was a beautiful yet cheerless person who came to him, but he didn’t mind; the important thing was the connection to her parents.

Their life as a married couple was normal.

Rather, it was Marquis Raeven’s personal idea of normal. When he married her, he paid her the attention he would give any other tool, but there was no love at all.

Then something had changed him.

The marquis’s gaze shifted to the child at his knees.

When he had first heard they were having a baby, all he felt was that it would be but one more tool. But when the newborn squeezed his finger, something inside him broke.

The baby reminded him less of a squishy miniature human and more of a monkey. Raeven never thought he was cute or anything like that. But when he felt that faint warmth through his finger, somehow everything else seemed absurd.

He suddenly felt like the throne was no better than garbage.

At some point, without his realizing it, the man who had once burned with ambition was dead.

He also recalled his wife’s expression when he thanked her—he could never tell her, but it made him laugh whenever he remembered it. The thought,
Who are you?
had been plain on her face.

Of course, at first, she probably thought it was merely a temporary change because she had borne him an heir. But the difference in how he acted eventually became so strange that she began to wonder if the marquis had gone mad.

Apparently, given a choice between her husband up until that point and her changed husband, she preferred the latter. Her mood had begun to change as well. Essentially, they became a normal couple.

At the moment, his child was trying to scrabble up, so Marquis Raeven picked him up.

The boy laughed as the marquis brought him into his lap. He felt the high temperature particular to small children through his clothes. The moderate weight felt comfortable, and a peaceful satisfaction filled his heart.

Now Marquis Raeven had only one goal.

I want to pass on my domain in perfect condition.
It was a typical goal of a noble father.

He gazed gently at his child in his lap and asked, “What’sa matter, Baby Lee?
Smooch, smooch!
” There were only two people in the world who had seen the great noble scrunch up his lips and say, “Smooch, smooch.”

One of them, the child, squealed in delight.

“Dear, using baby talk with children isn’t good for their language development.”

“Hmph! Nonsense. That’s only an unfounded rumor.”

Though that’s what he said, internally he knew he shouldn’t do anything that might harm his son’s education.

He was sure that since this was his child, the boy was bound to be gifted. Well, it was perfectly fine if his son wasn’t, but it was only natural for a parent to want to encourage their child’s strengths. At the same time, he certainly didn’t want to be a bad influence on his son. But the one thing he couldn’t give up was the loving nickname.

Avoiding his wife and her slightly troubled expression in his field of vision, Raeven addressed his son again. “C’mon, Baby Lee. Hmm? What’s wrong? Is there something you wanna tell Daddy?”

“Eh-heh-heh-heh. Umm…”

The child cupped his hands to his mouth as if he was sipping tea, intending to tell a secret. Seeing this adorable act, Marquis Raeven felt the corners of his mouth soften affectionately. Nobody would believe that this face belonged to the man known by many as a snake.

“What is it? Will you tell Daddy? Ohh, I wonder what it is.”

“So for dinner today…”

“Uh-huh?”

“…we’re having something you like!”

“Wowww! That makes Daddy soooo happy! …What is it that we’re having tonight?”

“Gabura fish meunière,” his wife responded.

“I see. Oh, what’s da matter, Baby Lee?!” he asked in a hurry upon noticing the boy’s sulky face.

“I wanted to tell you!”

Marquis Raeven felt like he had been struck by lightning from behind.

“Oh nooo… Er, I see. Sorry, Baby Lee, that was all Daddy’s fault… Why did you tell me that?”

In response to his furrowed brow and question, his wife put a hand over her face—the gesture seemed to say,
What am I going to do with you?

“Baby Lee, will you tell me, then?”

The pouting boy turned his head away. In response, Marquis Raeven put on a violently shocked face full of such despair it seemed like he might choose death.

“Sorry, Baby Lee. Daddy’s a dummy and already forgot. Could you tell me?”

From the way the boy was peeking at him, he could tell it would take only a little more coaxing.

“Can you tell Daddy? I might cry!”

“Okay, umm, it’s your favorite fish.”

“Oh! Daddy’s so happy!” He smothered his boy’s pink cheeks with kisses. It must have tickled, because the child giggled innocently.

“Oookay. Let’s go eat!”

“The meal has not been prepared yet.”

“Ah.” After all the buildup, it was a bit of a disappointment, and he looked discontent. It would be simple to tell the cook to hurry it up, but preparing a meal involved various steps and doing things in order with the correct pacing. The cook couldn’t make an excellent meal for him if he threw off that rhythm out of pure selfishness.

Dissatisfied though he was, he didn’t give any orders. He wanted to feed his son food at its best.

“All right, your father is busy working. Let’s be on our way.”

“Okay!”

Marquis Raeven couldn’t hide how lonely he felt when the boy’s energetic voice rang out.

“Oh-ho! Hold it right there. I finished my work already.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. It’s already done.”

“…Is that true? You’re not just putting it off until tomorrow?”

“…”

Though his wife’s eyes were icy, he didn’t move to put the boy down. On the contrary, he squeezed his son tight. He felt the child’s body heat—
so warm
.

“…I was getting bogged down anyway. There’s nothing left that needs to be done today.”

It wasn’t just an excuse. It was true he didn’t have any pressing matters that needed attending.

Perhaps his wife sensed that. She nodded a few times.

“I see… It seems like things have been rough.”

“They are. I don’t need any more manual laborers, just brains.”

“What about my younger brother?”

“He’s quite the brilliant fellow, but he’s busy taking care of your home estate, isn’t he? I couldn’t call him here and put him to work. Is there anyone else you can think of who could help out?”

He’d asked her this over and over, and the response was always the same: There weren’t any nobles who could handle things with skill comparable to Raeven.

If there were, he wouldn’t be struggling so much. His only other option was to comb through the people. If they had a national education program like the empire’s, things may have been different, but without that, it was painstaking to search out hidden genius. All he could do was follow up on rumors of exceptionally bright individuals, then negotiate with the master of the domain they resided in.

How much time and effort would that take? As he was sitting there disappointed, his son in his lap piped up to say he had an idea.

“I know, Daddy! I’ll help you with your work!”

“Wow! Thanks, Baby Lee! Ahh, I love you so much!”

The cute remark brought another flurry of kisses to the boy’s cheeks. This time was sheer bliss for the marquis.

These moments allowed him to relax and forget the demands of his day-to-day tasks.

He wouldn’t hesitate to give his life to protect it.

2

Two months after the empire’s declaration, it was the season of white breaths.

In villages around the kingdom, the people had transitioned from outdoor to indoor work, and there weren’t many out and about. Not many of them were busy during these months. That was true for adventurers as well, even if it seemed like they worked year-round without taking time off.

Occasionally a starving magical beast would appear in a village or a sudden job would come in, but in general, there were not many requests. Searching for uncharted ruins or exploring secluded regions was too dangerous at this time of year, too. That made it the adventurers’ off-season. They put their efforts into training, leisure, or side jobs.

But in Fortress City E-Rantel, things were different. It was filled with a heated confusion.

That said, it wasn’t occupied by the same hustle and bustle as other cities in the kingdom. The excitement was born not of liveliness but a different emotion.

The source was the outermost of E-Rantel’s three walls.

Countless people had gathered there. Most of them didn’t look very impressive. The majority were probably commoners. But their numbers were astounding. There had to be two hundred and fifty thousand people.

It wasn’t as if E-Rantel always had that many residents.

Certainly, as a city that stood on land where three countries met, there was a lot of traffic: Goods, people, money, and all variety of other things were coming and going. A city like that inevitably grew.

Even so, two hundred and fifty thousand in a single district was unrealistic.

Why were so many people gathering there?

Watching some of the young people provided a simple explanation.

Many of them were training with bladeless spears. Outfitted with dented steel armor and shields, they practiced thrusting into wooden and straw targets.

They were training for war. Yes, the people gathered there—two hundred and fifty thousand of the kingdom’s subjects—were conscripts for the war against the empire.

Energetic cries overlapped in the air. Of course, there weren’t many who shouted eagerly. Most were frightened of the upcoming deadly battle and felt compelled to train by the knowledge that they wouldn’t make it home alive if they didn’t.

But not everyone was taking the exercises seriously.

War with the empire happened every year. That left many people feeling despondent. Lacking any motivation, one person was simply lying on the cobblestones in an inconspicuous corner. The gloomy man next to him was complaining. Another had curled up, hugging his knees.

There were more of that sort in the older age brackets.

These soldiers had no fighting spirit; their only wish was to make it home alive.

That was the reality of the kingdom’s army. But what could be done? They had been ordered to come, robbed of their time, and forced to participate in a fight to the death that entailed very little reward. Even if they made it back alive, the instability in their basic lifestyle would continue to grow due to the time they lost—it was like a rope tightening around their necks.

Surviving meant only that they were destined for a slower death.

A wagon drove past the soldiers. The cargo bed bulged with a huge amount of foodstuffs.

Common sense would say accommodating 3 percent of the kingdom’s entire population in one city and supplying them was practically impossible, but E-Rantel was the forward-most base in the fight against the empire and the place where the kingdom’s troops were being mustered.

The conflict with the empire had been repeated so many times that making preparations for two hundred and fifty thousand people had become laughably routine. The food storehouse was massive. It was probably the largest building in the city.

There was a constant stream of supplies being carted out.

The lethargic people eyed the wagon with fear, as if they were watching a god of death drift past.

That was the mood that possessed those who knew what was about to happen.

Transporting so much food could mean only one thing.

War with the empire was near.

E-Rantel, within the innermost wall…

The mansion of Mayor Panasolei Grouzé Day Rettenmaier stood in a central location. It was a splendid residence, worthy of someone with the mayor’s status, but it was several grades inferior when compared to the building next door.

That was the city’s magnificent, honored guesthouse. It was opened only when the king or an equally important personage visited.

Currently occupying one of the rooms within was a group of men made up chiefly of Ramposa III and the great nobles.

Gazef stood silently next to the king, who sat on a simple throne.

In the center of the room was a large desk around which mainly nobles gathered, frowning at a large map that had been laid out. On top of the map were several markers, as well as countless scattered papers—the list of commanders, reports from reconnaissance units, records of previous battles, information about monsters that appeared in the area, and more. Almost no water was left in the jug the server standing by in the back of the room held.

That was an indication of how heated the debate had gotten.

In fact, the great nobles’ faces, which were dignified and shaped by history, seemed deeply fatigued. The bigger the army became, the more meetings—and a greater variety of them—were required. Basic things could be delegated to the staff serving under them, but for matters the nobles had to arrange themselves, the leaders needed to have detailed discussions.

Their honor was on the line; they couldn’t bear to bring shame upon themselves, so there had been a considerable amount of work to do.

But that was finally over.

The one who showed the least fatigue of all present, Marquis Raeven, spoke.

Rather, he was always the one speaking out front. They may have called him a bat that flitted from one side to the other, but no one doubted his intelligence. These bipartisan meetings always went the most smoothly when he presided over them.

“I know you’ve all been busy, so thank you for coming. With this, our current round of preparations has been completed on time. Now, let’s make our plans for this war with the empire.”

Marquis Raeven looked around at everyone and held up a piece of parchment so they could all see it.

“Several days ago, we received this declaration from the empire. It states the location for the battle.”

Specifying a location for battles was something opposing groups from the same race sometimes agreed to, since sites of battles had the potential to end up as cursed ground where undead would spawn. When both armies agreed, the contest for superiority would be held in a place neither country found problematic.

Of course, it was true not all wars went that way—on the contrary, those sorts of arrangements were rarer than not—but the kingdom and the empire had been agreeing on the site of their battles for several years.

It was the result of both countries seeing eye to eye on a common issue. Unless they coordinated, any new territory they fought at and won could have undead spawning nearby, which was a serious issue. Even if they somehow managed to defend against the undead, the land itself could be cursed, making the whole endeavor pointless.

Relieved sighs could be heard around the room upon Marquis Raeven’s announcement—they could now treat the coming war as an extension of the past wars, since the same procedures were being followed.

“So the battlefield is—”

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about it, Marquis Raeven. It’s the same place as every year, isn’t it? Where else could it even be?”

“Yes, Marquis Beauleurope. As you say, it’s the same place as previous years. The foggy, cursed land of the Katze Plain—the northwestern part.”

“…Since they chose the same place as usual, do you think their plan of attack will be the same as well?”

Some were probably thinking that these arrangements were proof that despite the declaration about the caster Ainz Ooal Gown’s country, the empire’s real motive behind that nonsense was to simply create a casus belli.

If that was all, Gazef might have agreed. But Marquis Raeven shook his head.

“Sorry, Marquis Blumrush. Things likely aren’t that simple. We’ve received reports that the empire has mobilized quite a large number of soldiers. I had my former orichalcum-ranked adventurer team investigate, and while they weren’t sure about the exact numbers of soldiers, they counted coats of arms for six corps.”

“Six?!”

The room was overcome with exclamations.

The imperial knights had a total of eight corps, and the most that had ever participated in previous wars was four. But this time they would be deploying one and a half times that amount.

“Are they…serious?” one noble asked with an anxious look on his face.

Six corps meant sixty thousand men. The kingdom had two hundred and fifty thousand, giving them the overwhelming numerical advantage. In terms of individual fighting power, however, the kingdom couldn’t hold a candle to the empire.

“I don’t know, but we should probably consider it something different from the simple single clashes of past years.”

Up until now, the war generally consisted of two hundred thousand against forty thousand. The empire would charge, and the kingdom would react. That was it. The empire’s goal was to slowly exhaust the kingdom in the long term, and forcing them to exhaust their provisions was one part of that.

If that was their aim this time as well, they wouldn’t have needed to mobilize sixty thousand. In other words, they had some other objective. It would be a mistake to treat this the same as their past fights. That was how Marquis Raeven saw it.

“It was a good idea to increase our numbers this time.”

Unfortunately, the increased manpower also created the headache of increased war expenses.

In past years, the empire had timed their attack to coincide with the harvest season, but this year it was winter, so there were additional costs involved, such as procuring firewood.

The king was supposed to cover those costs, so if the king’s faction hadn’t gained more influence recently, they wouldn’t have been able to gather enough contributions, and his power would have dropped significantly.

“But, Marquis Raeven, don’t you think they could just be mobilizing more soldiers than usual to maintain face in front of their ally, that caster who calls himself a king? The empire took the lead in declaring war on us. If they didn’t mobilize a large army and actually fight us, it wouldn’t be good for appearances.”

“I think there’s certainly a chance that is the case. Also, we haven’t received any word from Ainz Ooal Gown. It’s possible that this is entirely the empire’s initiative and Ainz Ooal Gown has gotten involved somehow. It could even be against his will.”

If that was the case, Gazef would be extremely happy, personally speaking. What a relief it would be to not have that great caster as an enemy. But that line of thinking was too optimistic.

Gazef had kept his mouth shut until this point, but now he spoke. “May I say something?”

“Go ahead.”

Having received the king’s permission, Gazef stated the worry on his mind.

“I don’t think that theory is very likely. Given the letter we received from the Slane Theocracy, I just can’t imagine this being a superficial political move.”

All the nobles looked annoyed.

The area around E-Rantel was of interest to three countries, so whenever the empire and the kingdom had their scuffle, the Theocracy would declare war as well. The notices they sent always claimed that the E-Rantel area formerly belonged to the Theocracy and that the kingdom was unjustly occupying it. Every year, the Theocracy demanded the kingdom return the land to its rightful owner and said it was a shame the empire and the kingdom were up in arms over a right that wasn’t even theirs to fight over.

Both countries wanted to tell the Theocracy to stay out of it, but since the Theocracy had never actually mobilized any forces, they interpreted those letters as nothing but talk.

But the latest one was quite different.

The Theocracy has no records on these matters, so it is difficult to determine, but if Ainz Ooal Gown truly once ruled those lands, then we recognize the validity of his claims.
That was the content of the letter that had been delivered to the kingdom.

To the nobles, it was a preposterous, infuriating statement that deserved a curt response of,
Don’t butt in and spout this irresponsible nonsense
. But of course, some of them grasped the real meaning contained within the message. They understood well enough.

The Slane Theocracy’s statement implied their diplomatic position:
We have no intention of antagonizing Ainz Ooal Gown.

That meant one of the three most powerful countries in the region was concerned about taking on a single caster.

Well, that made sense. Gazef continued his line of thought.

“A squad from the six scriptures was handily wiped out… I’m not saying Ainz Ooal Gown did it on his own, but the Slane Theocracy probably doesn’t want to make an enemy of someone who wields that much power. If this conflict really is entirely the empire’s ploy and Ainz Ooal Gown only happened to be involved, I don’t think the Theocracy would make such a statement.”

“Hmph. What can one caster do anyway? We number two hundred and fifty thousand.”

Count Litton cracked a derisive smile and laughed at Gazef’s caution.

Gazef kept himself from furrowing his brow. That caster was immensely powerful, and the role he could play was astoundingly major. But at the same time, he understood what Count Litton was saying.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the same thing.

For example, the empire had Fluder Paradyne, a great caster whose name was known far and wide. He was said to be able to use fifth- or perhaps even sixth-tier magic, but no one knew the details.

That was because Fluder had never participated in battle against the kingdom, so his magic had never wreaked havoc on their army.

Furthermore, though everyone knew sixth tier was awesome, it was simply reality that they didn’t grasp exactly what that meant.

That was true even for the captain of the Royal Select, who had been through a great many battles.

To someone who wasn’t a caster but a noble who knew of magic only academically, it must have been even harder to fathom. In fact, many kingdom nobles were of the opinion that Fluder wasn’t such a big deal. They thought the empire hyped him up for appearances. The tendency to think that way was especially prevalent among higher-ranking nobles who didn’t have much contact with adventurers or other occupations that used magic.

Count Litton must have been one of those. It was clear he considered casters a type of commonplace magician. Of course, the priests he ended up calling when he was sick or injured were somehow different.

“…I don’t think we should feel safe in mere numbers. If this caster used a flying spell and an area-of-effect attack, we would be in deep trouble. It would also be a problem to be hit with long-range attack spells. But I doubt the empire would waste a specialist like that. It is treating him strangely, though. I don’t think it would go to these lengths if he was a mere caster. We should be wary,” Margrave Urovana murmured solemnly.

His hair was already completely white, and his face was covered in wrinkles, but it still definitely held the particular dignity of a person with many years of experience. His age was part of the reason, but each word he said carried a weight that Count Litton’s had not, and even Litton himself had to nod in agreement, albeit reluctantly. But there was someone who had a rebuttal, and that was Marquis Beauleurope.

“Hmph. Who’s Ainz Ooal Gown anyway? Like Litton said, what can he do on his own? If he comes flying through the sky, shoot him down with arrows. If he attacks at range, we’ll do the same. What can one measly caster do?! Casters only change the course of an entire battle in stories!”

“…With all due respect, some of the bards’ heroic sagas are true…”

“Apparently, you haven’t heard, Captain, but flashy stories get people’s attention. When bards are busy exaggerating, sooner or later, the story becomes something that is far from the truth. And stories are apt to change in major ways when passed from teller to teller besides.”

“But if we prepared with a unit of casters who can cast Fireball—”

“Is it possible to round up a big group of people who can use Fireball, Captain?”

“I…doubt it.”

Fireball was a tier-three spell. Even the empire, with its magic academy, would probably have difficulty gathering a large number of casters who could use that.

“Then isn’t that your answer? Magic is just one weapon. No matter how powerful he is, this caster won’t be able to change the course of the battle on his own! You’re a good example yourself, Str—Captain Stronoff. No one can defeat you in a duel, but neither can you make short work of an army tens of thousands strong.”

What Marquis Beauleurope was saying was true. Gazef couldn’t find anything to argue against.

Moreover, Gazef had heard doubtful tales of ten thousand soldiers getting killed with a single spell only in stories. Even the old woman Ligritte Belzú Kaurau, one of the Thirteen Heroes, didn’t have that much power.

But Gazef was still worried.

Isn’t he just speaking from ignorance if he doesn’t actually know any amazing casters?

“…What about dragons?”

“Marquis Blumrush… The caster is a human, I presume? Why do you bring up dragons?”

“O-oh, I was just thinking, since one of them could take an entire human army…”

“There’s no point in bringing up dragons when we’re talking about humans. Your premise is wrong in the first place! What are you thinking? Being so frightened of a single caster”—Marquis Beauleurope glared in Gazef’s direction—“jumping at his shadow? Shouldn’t you be ashamed, as a noble of the kingdom?! Though…I do understand your worries, Captain… We should probably assume this Ainz Ooal Gown’s individual fighting power is equal to five thousand men.”

“F-five thousand?!” Count Litton’s eyes grew large. “Five thousand in one… Isn’t that a bit of an overestimation? Surely half that amount is fine.”

“I’m assuming that the captain is equal to a thousand men. If the captain is on guard against this enemy, five times that amount makes sense…because I trust the captain’s eye.”

“Thank you.”

I wonder if Ainz Ooal Gown’s combat ability is really equal to only five thousand, but assessing it as anything higher seems unlikely. It’s better to thank the man and keep him happy.
With those thoughts, Gazef bowed to Beauleurope.

“Can I say something?” Prince Barbro, who had been silent up until now, spoke. “…There’s something that has been on my mind for a while. Couldn’t we send adventurers to war? They’re working in the kingdom, so it should be a simple matter of drafting them as royal subjects. Why are we still not allowed to pull them into battle? There isn’t any law against it.”

The great nobles exchanged looks. As overseers of their domains, they knew how valuable adventurers were. That’s why they didn’t think in the way Barbro did.

Gazef felt that the king was at fault for this remark. If he had given Barbro a domain and had him run it, this question would never have come up.

Marquis Raeven cleared his throat.

“Prince. First, aside from copper plates and whatnot, do you understand that adventurers are stronger than soldiers?”

“Yes, I know that. That’s why they would be able to do such wonderful things for us if we drafted them. The empire’s knights would probably be a piece of cake for them.”

“Without a doubt, I’m sure. But if we did that, then our enemy—the empire, this time—would draft adventurers to fight back. When that happens, we wouldn’t see adventurers clashing with adventurers but rather adventurers killing the weaker soldiers. If that happens, losses on both sides will increase. Many more of the weaker people will die. So we’ve decided that we won’t borrow the adventurers’ power; thus, we’re avoiding military escalation. It’s also forbidden in the Adventurers Guild rules.”

For the same reason, they couldn’t hire workers, either. Although in their cases, it was also a matter of them being more expensive than adventurers as well as untrustworthy.

“Ah. I don’t like it, but I understand. Then what if the city gets attacked? If they still didn’t help us, that would be unforgivable as people of our country, no?”

“I understand what you’re saying, Your Highness. But it’s hard to tell whether they consider themselves subjects of the kingdom or not. Many of them live as travelers. More than anything, if an adventurer dies in battle, that’s a loss for the country and a greater loss the greater the adventurer. Specifically, those losses would increase the possibility that monsters appear, and we don’t have the adventurers to deal with them. Hence, the separation between the military and adventurers.”

“…Earlier, Marquis Raeven was saying he enlisted retired adventurers as soldiers, didn’t he? Former orichalcum ranks or something. That’s fine?”

“Apparently, that’s not an issue. The Adventurers Guild has rules, but they don’t apply to people who have left the guild. That’s why he was able to hire them.”

“…I don’t know. I just don’t like this.”

Some of the nobles chuckled in agreement.

“But that goes through orichalcum rank. For adamantite, it might be different. Currently, in the kingdom, we have two adamantite-ranked teams, but…”

There was no one present who hadn’t heard of the Blue Roses, who had taken action during the demon disturbance.

“…before their era in the spotlight, there was another adamantite team. They retired, but they don’t appear to have been hired by anyone. Right, Captain?”

“That’s right. There were four members. One runs a training hall to train select students in swordsmanship. Two went off traveling together. The last one is an old woman who at one point belonged to the Blue Roses but later disappeared.”

Recalling each memorable character, Gazef counted them on his fingers.

He had been walking in the royal capital when his master, who had seen his fight in the royal tournament, dragged him to the training hall for a hell of forced study and sword technique drills.

It was because of that training that Gazef, who had been a simple mercenary, was able to better serve the king, but that said…

No, thinking back on it now, those are good memories.

“I see. I heard there’s an adventurer team in the city called Raven Black. I thought perhaps their caster, Beautiful Princess Nabe, could face Ainz Ooal Gown, but I suppose it won’t work out, then.”

The idea itself was a good one, but the Adventurers Guild was sure to oppose it.

Several nobles began to disparage the guild:

They’re nothing but commoners. Who do you think is hiring adventurers in the first place? If you’re a loyal subject of the kingdom, it’s only natural to cooperate.
And so on.

To those at the top, anyone who didn’t bow to authority was unpleasant. But it was also true that without adventurers, fighting off monsters would be practically impossible.

If the Adventurers Guild moved away, the kingdom would slowly fall into ruin, unable to exterminate the larger monsters that appeared. That was surely what would happen, even with Gazef around.

Monsters had a wide range of special abilities that required a wide range of attacks, defenses, and healing to exterminate. That was why adventurers were indispensable. Of course, it would have been a different story if, like in the empire, they had casters and rangers incorporated into their army.

“No, that’s brilliant, Your Highness! Doesn’t sound bad at all!”

It was some baron who had shouted.

His status was definitely not high enough to be in the room, so his presence meant he had to be someone’s flunky.

“Beautiful Princess Nabe may have an insightful opinion as a caster. At the very least, perhaps we should send a messenger to talk with her!”

Voices of agreement sounded, albeit sparsely. Most of them were lower-ranking barons. Since they were all supporting Prince Barbro, they must have been lackeys of one of the nobles’ faction members.

They didn’t seem to notice that anyone with a decent sense of tact wore a bitter expression.

“You should go, then.” The king sounded tired as he gave the order. “Sir Momon is an adamantite-plate adventurer, though. Don’t do anything to upset him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty! I, Nosmartz, shall carry out this royal order without fail!”

“All right, then. Do take care to respect Sir Momon,” the king repeated and then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The noble who had received the order exited the room, brimming with confidence.

It seemed like he didn’t realize that he would be cast aside the instant any trouble occurred.

Marquis Raeven sighed. “Well, we got off topic… Where were we…? Oh, right. I believe we were talking about how much fighting power Ainz Ooal Gown has. I’d like our common understanding to be that he, on his own, is equivalent to five thousand soldiers, if there are no objections…?” He eyed Gazef.

“No, no objections.”

Gazef felt like double that still probably wasn’t enough, but he knew it would be a challenge to get anyone who hadn’t witnessed his power to believe that.

“All right. Then can everyone send their troops to the area of Katze Plain as specified by the empire?”

Each noble gave their assent as Raeven looked at them in turn. When he faced Marquis Beauleurope, the man answered loudly.

“Of course it’s no problem, Marquis Raeven! I can move my army at once. And Your Majesty, I have one proposal—if I may? There’s something I would like the prince to do for me.”

There was only one prince present. All eyes turned to Barbro.

“It’s said that the caster Ainz Ooal Gown showed up and saved Carne. If he was just playing at chivalry, that’s fine, but it’s also possible he was making some sort of strategic move. I think we should send an army and speak with the people there. I’d like the prince to command that endeavor.”

“Marquis!”

Barbro glared sharply at Marquis Beauleurope.

“Silence.” It was the king who spoke. “That’s not a bad idea. My son, I hereby order you: Go to Carne and speak with the people there.”

Gazef desperately worked to keep his eyebrows from moving.

He didn’t think it would be possible to get information about the caster from Carne at this point. And wasn’t it a bad idea to split up their forces, even slightly?

“…If it’s an order, then I have no choice but to obey. But please know that it’s not what I want to do.”

Realizing the king had no intention of retracting his command, the prince bowed his head, though he didn’t attempt to hide his displeasure.

“For the army that will go to the village, I’ll lend you some of my elite troops. Please also allow me to gather some nobles to accompany Your Highness. I imagine five thousand is enough?”

“Aha, so you’re wary of a detached imperial unit? You’re always so perceptive, Marquis Beauleurope.”

Gazef understood Marquis Raeven’s comments, but he wondered if the empire would really pull such a stunt after specifying the location of the battle. In a normal war, that would be elementary strategy, but to send out a detachment after promising a definitive battle would simply earn contempt from neighboring countries. The empire would be hanging itself.

“I doubt it will require that many soldiers, but it’s your proposal, Marquis. I’ll leave the numbers up to you.”

“I’m grateful, Your Majesty. There is one more thing…”

Marquis Beauleurope paused for a moment, less to take a breath than to make sure everyone was listening.

“Who will lead the army in this war? I have no problem taking command, if need be.”

The atmosphere shifted.

That was a disquieting remark. He was asking the king a question, but the content of it was something else entirely. He was putting invisible pressure on the king to hand over command authority.

When asked whether King Ramposa III or Marquis Beauleurope would be the better commander, most of the nobles would choose Marquis Beauleurope. He was also responsible for raising a full fifth of the kingdom’s army—fifty thousand men.

Additionally, he had an elite corps. It was a band of professional soldiers inspired by Gazef’s Royal Select.

Their combat ability was high. They weren’t as strong as Gazef’s men, but they could still fight evenly or better against the empire’s knights. What was particularly surprising was how many there were—some five thousand in total. If they fought the Royal Select, they would probably win a crushing victory with sheer numerical superiority.

If the king wasn’t present, command would no doubt go to Marquis Beauleurope. But the king was present. In which case, Ramposa III commanding was only natural, but the members of the nobles’ faction probably wouldn’t accept that readily.

Gazef’s expression grew stern in response to Marquis Beauleurope’s pressuring question, but although the marquis saw that, he didn’t pay him any mind. To Marquis Beauleurope, Gazef was merely a peasant who could handle a sword. He couldn’t even stand the fact that anyone who wasn’t a noble was attending the meeting.

“…Marquis Raeven.”

“Your Majesty!”

“I entrust you with command. March the army safely to the Katze Plain. I leave the formations and positioning after that up to you.”

“Understood.” Marquis Raeven accepted the royal order with a bow. Marquis Beauleurope’s desired command had been swiped, but he couldn’t complain if it was Marquis Raeven. Everyone knew how he excelled, so it was hard to criticize Raeven in a harsh way. More importantly, he had an incredible number of connections. Even some of the nobles under Marquis Beauleurope were indebted to him. Criticizing him in front of them could make them question Marquis Beauleurope’s capabilities, so he had no choice but to agree.

“Marquis Raeven, I’ll entrust my army to you as well. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Marquis Beauleurope. I will.”

The king had managed the situation brilliantly. Gazef couldn’t have been more satisfied if he had done it himself.

“Is there anything else?” He waited briefly for any answer, but no one responded. “…Then begin preparations for war. You’ll be departing as early as tomorrow. It will probably take two days to reach the battlefield. Make sure to prepare carefully. You are dismissed. Marquis Raeven, the rest I leave to you.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

Everyone left the room in order to make their departure arrangements, and the only ones left were the king and Gazef.

Ramposa III slowly rolled his neck in a circle. Even Gazef could hear it cracking. It had to have been awfully stiff—the look on his face said it must have felt good to stretch.

“You must be tired, Your Majesty.”

“Indeed I am.”

Gazef winced. Miniature versions of the kingdom’s two rivaling factions had been there moments ago. The fatigue the king felt had to be quite serious. But there were people who had suffered more than King Ramposa III.

“I think it’s about time…”

As soon as Ramposa III spoke, there were several knocks at the door. Then it slowly swung open and someone who had been waiting came inside. It was a man with a face that was not much to look at—the best description was probably
overweight bulldog
. His hair was thin enough that his head was reflecting the light, and the hairs that were there had turned white.

His body was round, with an overgenerous amount of fat around his abdomen and so much flesh gathered under his chin it left onlookers in disbelief.

No, he may not have been much to look at, but there was a gleam of wisdom in his eyes. Ramposa III greeted him with a deeply sympathetic smile.

“Thanks for coming, Panasolei.”

“Your Royal Majesty.” The mayor of E-Rantel gave his master a respectful bow. Then he shifted his gaze. “It’s been a while, Sir Stronoff.” Panasolei was a noble, but he was extremely polite to Gazef, a commoner, and paid him respect. It was precisely because he was that sort of man that he was dispatched to such a key location.

“Well, if it isn’t the mayor. Thank you again for your assistance that time. And thank you for helping treat my men’s wounds. I had to report back to the king as soon as possible, so I rushed off without offering a proper thank-you. My apologies for that.”

“No, no, please don’t trouble yourself. When you were attacked, I understood what a major incident it was, so I didn’t find it strange at all, nor could I have.”

They bowed repeatedly to each other, and the king’s cheerful laughter echoed out.

“Panasolei, not going to do that snorting thing this time?”

“Your Majesty… There’s no point in putting on that act with people who won’t underestimate me. Or do Your Majesty and Sir Stronoff think I’m the kind of man who actually does that sort of thing?”

“Sorry, sorry. I was only joking. Forgive me, Panasolei.”

“No, as your subject, I spoke too harshly. Please excuse my rudeness, Your Majesty. Now then…shall we begin?”

“No…” The king hesitated before responding. “No, there should be one more coming. Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

“Oh? Then should we get the matter of expenses for the city’s provisions out of the way? I can also explain the calculation of national strength a year out based on materials the marquis provided.”

“Yes, I’d like to get anything that will give me a headache out of the way first.”

The contents of Panasolei’s report made even Gazef, who knew very little about the internal affairs of the kingdom, frown in worry.

The piling costs were enough to make anyone anxious for the future of the country. Scraping together the great number of necessary provisions had worsened the domestic food situation. Of special concern was the decline in national strength that would occur after demobilizing the conscripts.

Panasolei’s estimate—though it was probably generous—was enough to give anyone a nervous tic.

The king was grimacing.

“What will we do…?”

“If…the same thing happens next year, and the empire attacks, the danger that the kingdom might collapse from internal strife will only grow. If the tax rate remains steady, we’ll see commoners dying of starvation, but if we lower it, there won’t be enough money to fund all our policies.”

Ramposa III put a hand to his forehead and covered his face.

It was the result of dealing with the empire’s harassment in a haphazard way for so many years. By the time they realized the empire’s goal was to send the kingdom into a slow decline, it was too late.

“Your Majesty…”

“This is bad. If only I had acted sooner… I wish I could have handled it before the factions completely split in two. How stupid…”

“That’s not true, Your Majesty. If you had tried to handle it then, a civil war might have split the kingdom in half, and in its weakened state, the empire could have swallowed everything.”

Gazef could state it with certainty: King Ramposa III was doing a good job. The current state of things was due to the preceding royalty’s lack of action. Years and years of grime were impossible to clear away in a single generation.

“I want to leave the kingdom to my heir in better condition than when I received it, even if only slightly…,” the king said with emotion. His next words contained strength. “I guess now is my chance. Thanks to the demon disturbance, I have gained many supporters. Is this an opportunity to deal a serious blow to the empire and earn us some years of peace?”

Gazef saw a dangerous gleam in the king’s eyes. He knew he should stop him. But the words wouldn’t come.

If it was something about fulfilling the king’s own ambitions, he could advise, but when it was for the stability of his family, the words couldn’t get past his throat.

The man closest to the king and witnessing his suffering couldn’t stop him from feeling that way.

“There’s a possibility, but as you know, it’s dangerous. If you act in a way that would grind down the nobles’ power, the nation could be thrown into disorder.”

The king furrowed his brow, which pained Gazef.

“You’re always right, Panasolei. Still, there’s always a chance surgery will kill you, but it might also keep you alive. If we do nothing, the disease will spread throughout the entire body, leading us to a death that is slow but certain. In that case, shouldn’t we take action?”

“What are you saying, Your Majesty? Surgery can’t be trusted. There must be a better method.”

“If there were magic that could save the kingdom, I would rely on that, but there isn’t. The only treatment option we have is the primitive folk practice of opening up the body and removing the site of the disease.”

Only the horrifically savage method said to be suggested by a minotaur sage could save the kingdom now. To think that their king felt so cornered that he would even say such a thing. A dismal silence fell upon the room.

It felt like the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere would never lift, but a knock echoed out, interrupting it.

Marquis Raeven entered without waiting for a reply.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, everyone.”

Relief filled the room.

“Oh, you’re finally here. Marquis Raeven, I am sorry for taking up your time.”

For a moment, the marquis looked as if he didn’t know what matter the king was referring to, but then he realized and radiated an aura of exhaustion.

“Not at all, Your Majesty. You needn’t concern yourself. Handing Marquis Beauleurope command of the entire army would be the height of folly. The only commands he would give are ‘charge’ and ‘retreat.’”

That was an awful thing to say, but it wasn’t clear if Raeven had meant it or not. It was possible he sensed the woebegone mood of the room and was making a joke to lighten things up.

“And if Your Majesty had taken direct command, it might have resulted in the nobles’ faction retracting their support for the war. That left no one else suitable besides me. That said, I would like you to spare me a grueling, no-vacation workload, so I’m announcing ahead of time that after this war is over, I shall take the liberty of holing up in my domain for a few months. Now then”—his expression tensed—“my apologies, but I can’t stay very long, so let’s make short work of these issues.”

It was the usual cold, snakelike face, but Gazef could see human emotion, perhaps even something agreeable.

I was a fool for not being able to discern his true personality. If someone told me I didn’t have an eye for people, I’d have to agree.

Frustrated, he recalled the conversation that had taken place in the king’s private chambers before he left the capital. There had been five people present: Ramposa III, himself, Princess Renner, plus Prince Zanac and Marquis Raeven. The astounding things he heard from those latter two shattered his rigid perception of the court.
Astounding
wasn’t enough to describe the shock that the people he had so loathed were actually the ones doing the most to support the king.

“Whether for my children or you, I’m always causing trouble.”

Turning to Marquis Raeven with a sincere expression, Ramposa III bowed deeply.

“Please don’t, Your Majesty. For my part, I did many things without consulting you first. I regret not dealing with them sooner in a different way.”

“Marquis Raeven, please allow me to apologize as well.” Gazef bowed deeply. “Unaware of your true intentions, I was tricked by your conduct on the surface and harbored disrespectful feelings toward you. Please forgive me for being such a fool.”

“Don’t worry about it, Captain.”

“Even so, if you don’t punish me for my folly, this thorn will remain.”

Marquis Raeven shook his head a few times in astonishment, then dealt out the punishment. “Understood… Then allow me to call you Sir Gazef from now on, because I’ve always respected you.”

It was a punishment that wasn’t a punishment.

Feeling even greater disbelief at how blind he had been, Gazef thanked the marquis from the bottom of his heart.

“My thanks, Marquis Raeven.”

“It’s nothing, Sir Gazef. Now then, let us begin. We need to decide what actions the kingdom will take next.”

3

When Gazef went through the gate and arrived at the barracks in the outer circle, he took a deep breath and expelled his mental fatigue.

He was truly tired.

The times he truly felt like a commoner were during meetings like the one he had just left.

Serving next to the king and observing noble society, he had come to understand how they thought.

But there were often still certain ways of handling things or ideas that popped up that only people born and raised as nobles could understand, and at those times, he had to wonder why they thought the way they did. He felt it especially whenever they prioritized their pride as nobles over concrete benefits.

No, what he understood even less was when they prioritized their own pride over their people.

Gazef looked around.

The soldiers rushing to and fro—they were the people. These were the subjects of the kingdom, all gathered from different villages for the coming battle. As soldiers, they looked so powerless. They should have been holding hoes and spades.

Wasn’t it the job of those at the top to protect these people?

It was wrong to say they should give away E-Rantel. Like the king said, handing over E-Rantel would hurt the people living here.

But…

The image of Ainz Ooal Gown in his strange mask appeared in Gazef’s mind.

When the caster returned to Carne with the first signs of night, he didn’t look at all like he had just fought a fierce battle.

Yes, he and his partner had returned without a scratch from a clash with an opponent who had crushed Gazef and his men.

King of Darkness
—they were appropriate words for a being so transcendent.

Compared to the folly of opposing that man head-on, he would rather… But that choice would hurt the people.

“Shit!” he snapped.

His thoughts wouldn’t come together. He couldn’t figure out what to do. Hesitation on the battlefield meant death. Even the man celebrated as the strongest of the countries in the region could die if his mind wasn’t made up.

Especially if he was up against Ainz Ooal Gown.

Certainly, Gazef had never witnessed the fighting ability of the caster who saved the village. And even that man had said the enemies had fled, not that he had defeated them.

But everyone knew that was a lie.

“Come to think of it…why did he lie and say they ran away?”

After the pair had left, he had gone to see the meadow where the battle had taken place, but there was no sign of a massacre. He didn’t find a single body. It took time to bury dozens of soldiers. The fact that there were no corpses—no physical evidence—lent credence to his claim that they fled.

But that held true only if Ainz Ooal Gown couldn’t use magic. It was possible there were spells that would transport or erase the bodies.

And Gazef was confident in one thing.

It stemmed from his intuition as a warrior. When Ainz returned unscathed, Gazef had sensed the caster smelled faintly of death.

If it was true that they ran away, it was definitely because he had let them go.

But Gazef had more faith in his hunch than the caster’s words. It was a groundless conviction—that the six scriptures members were dead and their corpses had simply not been left behind.

“…I don’t know.”

There existed a caster who could annihilate an opponent who defeated Gazef.

How powerful would such a person have to be? At least several times as powerful as the band of warriors Gazef led.

What would happen if that person appeared on the battlefield and attacked them using magic?

Gazef looked once more at the people driven by excitement, fear, resignation, and panic.

The strength of the magic casters used depended on the skill of the caster, even if the spell was the same tier.

So what sort of disaster could Ainz Ooal Gown cause if he used so much as Fireball?

There were men here who had left their families behind: fathers with young children still drinking their mother’s milk, sons who took care of their elderly parents, young men soon to be married. Was there even the slightest chance they could withstand such an attack?

That was impossible.

Life couldn’t possibly persist after a strike from that great caster.

If a fire spell, then all that remained would be seared corpses; if a chill spell, then frozen corpses; if a lightning spell, then electrocuted corpses—that’s how it would end up.

Would Gazef be able to withstand it?

He didn’t think he would die in one hit.

But maybe that was naive.

“Ahh… How did this happen?”

Fighting with Ainz Ooal Gown was definitely a mistake.

Since he saved Carne, it seemed like Ainz Ooal Gown was a proper person who shed the same blood and tears. But Gazef had the feeling he was not just a simple, nice guy. The image that came to mind was a man who had no mercy for his enemies.

They should have avoided a fight and treated him with all the respect they could muster. Then perhaps they could have persuaded him to choose a different plot of land.

As Gazef looked gloomily at the people around him, a young man in white metal armor appeared in the corner of his field of vision. Next to him was an aloof warrior. It was Climb and Brain.

Those two plus one more were having what seemed to be a fun conversation.

“Who’s that? I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before… Ohh, it’s one of Marquis Raeven’s former orichalcum-plate adventurers.”

That team of former adventurers was a star of hope for the people, since all the members had come from a commoner background, so Gazef knew of them as well. In a way, they were like fellow ladder climbers who came before him.

Boris Axelson, forty-one years old, was a holy knight of the fire god and also held the class evil slayer, which excelled at slaying monsters.

Jorann Dicksgord, forty-six years old, was a wind god priest who could also fight as a warrior—a war priest.

Franzén, thirty-eight years old, was a warrior who could use four swords thanks to the magic item Dancing Weapons.

Lundqvist, forty-five years old, was a wizard said to be brilliant, who had spells he developed named after him.

And Lockmeier, forty years old, was a thief called “the Unseen.”

As Gazef counted the members on his fingers, he realized who was talking to Climb. Lockmeier. Come to think of it, he had heard that during the demon disturbance, Climb and Brain had teamed up with him and snuck deep into enemy territory to save people.

They didn’t seem to notice Gazef, and he didn’t want to interrupt.

Still, he felt it would be rude to not say hello. After all, soon they would all be going to battle. Though Gazef was the king’s aide and would therefore probably not be crossing swords with the enemy directly, no one ever knew for certain what might happen on the battlefield.

It might be our last time meeting in this world.

He wanted to talk to the pair if he could. As if the heavens had heard him, Lockmeier waved and left.

Brain and Climb remained, smiling as they chatted about something.

The bonds between the two of them appeared to have grown stronger during the demon incident in the capital. They had built a relationship that could have been classified as friends, master and apprentice, or colleagues, which was complicated but good.

Thanks to that connection, Brain was now one of Princess Renner’s soldiers, along with Climb.

It was true that Gazef felt it was both unfortunate and regrettable that a warrior equal to him, whom he had been hoping to recruit into the Royal Select, had been snatched away.

But seeing the pair like this, it was also true that things had settled into their natural places.

Cracking a smile, he approached them with a quick step.

That armor sure does stand out, though. It’s fine for when he’s in the capital, but on the battlefield, it’ll make him an easy target. Should I warn him?

There were a lot of soldiers around. None of them wore full plate armor, so Climb stuck out that way as well, but the bigger problem was the conspicuous pure-white color. Archers would be sure to aim for him first, and cavalry would probably also have a go. Between Climb and the empire’s knights, Climb would probably win, but it was also possible that he would run into a knight more powerful than him. The Four were a good example of what he could be up against.

Apparently, that armor was a gift from Princess Renner, but she really has no idea what it’s like on the battlefield if she picked a color like that.

Apparently, Princess Renner wasn’t well versed in military strategy.

She would be upset if Climb died.

If he used Magic Dye, he could change the color temporarily, then revert it after he returned to the capital.

When Gazef approached the pair from behind with those thoughts in mind, Brain turned just his head around. His hand was reaching for the sword on his hip.

That’s Brain for you. I’m impressed he could sense me from this far away.

Gazef’s armor made a racket when he walked.

It wasn’t strange for someone to react upon hearing that noise approaching.

But there were lots of people around busily preparing for battle. Picking out only the noises approaching them from the rest of that din was quite a feat. Well, it would have been different if he had been someone with special training, like a thief.

Brain’s eyes widened. Then he glanced at Climb and grinned. It was a nasty grin.

He seemed to be misunderstanding something, but that was just fine.

Matching Brain’s grin, Gazef closed in on Climb, who hadn’t noticed him yet, careful not to make too much sound. He had no special training in walking silently, and he was wearing metal armor to boot, but Climb didn’t seem to notice him at all and said something to Brain.

Gazef had successfully set up directly behind Climb.

Then he gave him a chop on his unprotected head.

“Whoa!”

Shrieking in a voice too hoarse for his age, he jumped back. The eyes that looked at Gazef were gigantic.

“Ah! It’s Sir Stro—”

“Quiet down.” Seeing that Climb had swallowed his exclamation, Gazef repeated himself. “Be quiet. It’ll be a pain if people know I’m here. Just call me Gazef.”

He may have been the captain of the Royal Select and the strongest man in the kingdom, but most of the commoners here were peasants, so they didn’t recognize his face. They probably imagined him as a man six and a half feet tall with a gigantic sword and golden armor.

“D-do excuse me.”

“Nah, you haven’t done anything that needs an apology.” Gazef smiled wryly in response. Then it changed into a wince. “But if you don’t realize someone in metal armor is sneaking up behind you, you’re being too lax. I understand that it’s unlikely for an enemy to show up here, but still.”

“What are you saying, Gazef? It’s no problem to relax a bit. A taut string is liable to break.”

“You say that, Brain, but you noticed me from quite a distance.”

“Of course I did, with that weird presence you were radiating.”

Gazef realized Climb was looking at them in surprise.

“Climb. As someone guarding the princess, you really need detection skills. If you fail to discover an assassin lurking around, the one you’re meant to protect could be harmed.”

“Ohh, I see. I was wondering what you were up to, but now I get it. Hey, Climb, you’ve been training in your own way so far, right? Have you learned how to detect presences?”

“N-no. I’ve only trained techniques for battle. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not picking on you. I just wanted to check. Actually, I used to be the same way. When you train on your own, you end up forgetting to train your senses, but that’s really dangerous. How often do you think someone swings a sword at you from out front where you can see them?”

Gazef blushed a bit. He shot Brain a look that said,
You didn’t have to go into all that at this very moment.

As the captain of the Royal Select, it was actually his job to train the young men working to become warriors, so he was awfully embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to do that.

Climb and Gazef were both commoners, so as servants of the royal family, neither of them could afford to slip up in front of the nobility. For example, if Gazef crushed Climb in a sparring match, the nobles would claim Climb was unfit to guard the princess. And if Gazef started to lose even a little bit of ground, the nobles would turn their personal attacks on him.

He wished he wouldn’t be spoken of as a good person just because he did one little nice thing. He had cut off this young warrior, crowing that it was for the king’s good.

No, I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I should face up to my mistakes…

“Yeah, okay, don’t rub it in. You demonstrated his weakness right before my eyes. I’ll train him as best I can.”

“I’m grateful, Sir Gazef.”

“…C’mon, don’t bow. You serve the royal family, so you’re one of my men. But instead of training you personally, I’ve shoved you off onto someone else. That doesn’t deserve a thank-you.”

The more Gazef was thanked, the more guilty he felt.

“Man, having one foot in noble society makes everything hard in so many ways, huh? You get held back by stupid stuff; you can’t do what you want.”

“But you’re in the same boat now that you’re working with Climb to guard Princess Renner.”

“I take it easy. I’ll tell ya what I think about being her subordinate—er, no I won’t; that would be bad, sorry. But I will say working for the princess is only temporary. If I get sick of it or have my fill, I’ll leave.” Brain smiled with a face like the autumn sky. The sopping wet man Gazef met in the capital was nowhere to be found.

He was a little jealous of him, that he could live freely like that.

“Sir Gazef, is it really all right for you to hang around chatting with us?”

“Well, I am busy, but I’d rather relax a bit… Speaking of which, are you two free now?”

Brain and Climb exchanged looks.

“More or less…”

“Hmm. Yes, there’s nothing we need to be doing right now. All that’s left is to equip ourselves for battle.”

“Then how about we…? Hmm.” He looked at one of the rampart towers. “Want to go over there?”

No one objected, so Gazef took the lead and headed over.

Since he was captain, the soldiers guarding the tower didn’t stop him, and they arrived at his favorite place.

The tower stood along the outermost wall of E-Rantel, naturally making it the highest place in the city. It had a fantastic view reaching far into the distance.

In addition, the stagnant body heat didn’t reach up that high, so the air was fresh, delivered by the bracing winter wind.

“Wow, what a view!” A boy’s genuine wonder rang out. Climb’s gaze fixed on the southeast.

“That’s the Katze Plain, where the battle will take place, right?”

“Yeah, a foggy area where undead spawn—and, in a few days, a battleground.” Gazef inhaled deeply and exhaled as he answered, hoping that by pulling a large amount of the refreshing air into his body, he could free himself from the various fears and worries eating at him, like his anxiety about Ainz Ooal Gown.

“This really is amazing. This alone makes it worth working for the princess. Casters who can use Fly must get to see this scenery all the time. I think I understand why so many of them are weirdos.”

“When you see the wider world, it must change your perspective.”

“Nah, that can’t be. Otherwise why not bring the nobles up here? You can shove the ones who don’t change over the side and kill two birds with one stone.”

Gazef smiled wryly at Brain’s joke. If this view alone would change them, he would drag them up in chains if need be.

Climb’s apparent confusion over how to react put Gazef in even better spirits.

“Ah, it was the right decision to come here with you two. It feels like poison is leaving my body.”

“Well, that’s good. So? Why’d you have us come up here, anyway? No one’s watching now. It can’t be that you just wanted us three guys to admire the view together, right? Is there someone you want us to kill?”

Brain’s bleak comment threw Gazef off.

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to guard the princess anymore, and I wouldn’t be able to train Climb, but…I owe you, Gazef. If it’s dirty work you need done, I’ll be happy to do it.”

He wasn’t joking. The only gleam in Brain’s eyes was one of sincerity.

“No, that’s not it, Brain. I don’t want you doing that sort of thing.”

“…My life isn’t as pure as you think, you know.”

“Probably not. Brain, you must have trained your sword in a tremendous amount of blood. But I’m the same.”

“But in your case, it’s the blood of your country’s enemies, right? For me, it was just the result of my own ambition. The blood may be the same, but we’re still completely different.”

“…Are you trying to atone for your crimes?”

“No, it’s not like that. I would have done anything in order to defeat you. I dedicated my life to it. Even after learning that the realm I can reach with my power alone amounts to nothing, I don’t feel guilty about anything I did. I just said I could do it because I owe you, that’s all. Don’t overthink it.”

“Then the answer is: I don’t want you to do that. And what do you owe me for? You mean when we met in the capital?”

Brain’s face soured. “Don’t worry about it. I just feel indebted to you, that’s all.”

“If you tell me not to worry about it, that just makes me want to know even more…” Sensing a powerful will to refuse, Gazef changed the subject. “Oh, and there’s no reason for bringing you two here.”

“Huh?”

Climb was the one who asked. Brain merely raised his eyebrows.

“…I just thought if you were free, it wouldn’t be bad for us three to have a talk, and the only place I could think of where we could relax and not worry about other people watching us was here. If we were in the capital, I know a quiet place where we could have had a drink, but…”

“What, so it was really just to chat? I thought for sure you had a secret mission for me.”

“No, no. Well, hmm…”

Just because they might lose their lives and never meet again didn’t mean he could say something that might only make them suffer later.

“Nah. Oh, Climb. That armor is a little too flashy. You might want to change the color. The way it is, you’ll make a good target for the enemy.”

“I can’t do that, Sir Stronoff,” Climb refused flatly. “This armor will be conspicuous wherever I go, so if I fulfill my duty while wearing it, my deeds will reflect well on Princess Renner. Besides, many nobles know that I wear white armor. If I dyed it another color out of fear, I’d be a laughingstock, and it would cause trouble for the princess. If that’s how it’ll be, I’d rather die a heroic death and enhance her reputation.”

Seeing his eyes, Gazef swallowed his replies.

Princess Renner doesn’t want you to die.

Don’t confuse recklessness for bravery.

Be patient now and become an even greater success later.

He could have given him any sort of advice along those lines.

But he figured nothing he could say would have the power to change Climb’s mind.

As Climb said, his white armor was the princess’s banner. His achievements would reflect well on her. Of course, the opposite was also true.

Climb was a warrior from an impoverished background. Renner had saved him, so he believed his life belonged to her. Gazef wouldn’t be able to budge that conviction—because he understood it to the extent that it was similar in some ways to his oath of loyalty to the king.

“I would give my life for Princess Renner,” the boy declared.

Gazef wasn’t sure what to say.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why are you guys looking into each other’s eyes like you’re about to die? Relax, Gazef. I’ll keep an eye on Climb. I won’t let him do anything stupid, and I’ll save him no matter what kind of crazy situation he gets into.”

“Against the Four, I have no doubt you’ll win, Brain… But if Sir Ainz Ooal Gown is on the battlefield, you’ll die.”

“…Is Ainz Ooal Gown really that strong? Ah, he’s the one I heard about at your house, right?”

After the demon disturbance, the two had traded the stories of their lives since the royal tournament over drinks. It was then that he had told Brain about Ainz Ooal Gown.

“I can say with confidence that there isn’t an imperial knight you can’t beat. The ones called the Four are strong, but I still don’t think they could defeat you. If you were lucky, you could probably escape from the empire’s greatest caster, Fluder Paradyne. But if Ainz Ooal Gown stands in your way…I’m sorry, Brain, but that will be as far as your destiny takes you.”

“Really? He’s that strong?”

“…I’m certain of it. Brain, he’s more powerful than what you’re currently imagining. You should double or triple your estimate, at least.”

“If he’s that strong…then I wonder if he’s a match for Sir Sebas.”

“Sebas? The old man you told me about? The old man from your story was shockingly strong, but I think Sir Gown surpasses him.”

“I would beg to differ. I can’t really imagine he could be stronger than that man… But anyway, what’s with the ‘sir’ you keep sticking on our enemy’s name?”

“He’s an opponent worthy of respect. But I don’t want to cause trouble for the king, so I adjust depending on who I’m talking to.”

Brain shrugged. “I gotta hand it to you, Captain—and you too, Climb. It seems like there are so many annoying details when it comes to swearing loyalty to the kingdom. I’m just kind of allowed to help out. That spacey princess is so generous.”

It was a Brain-like thing to say. But his attitude toward the royal family was disrespectful.

The king’s retainer Captain Gazef Stronoff frowned, but the warrior Gazef Stronoff grinned at the boldness of it.

If there were a lot of onlookers, he would have had to reprimand him, but because it was just the three of them, he figured there wouldn’t be an issue if he was true to his warrior self.

“Well, it’s true that Princess Renner might be a little too carefree. Well, I understand that you won’t change the color of your armor, Climb, but in that case, be extra cautious.”

“Thank you for your concern, but Princess Renner also told me to do my best with the color as it is, so I’m sorry, but I have no intention of changing it.”

“I see. That’s fine, then.”

A cool breeze blew among them. The sky was so clear and blue it was hard to believe a war was about to start. Looking at Climb and his determined face against that backdrop, Gazef felt both joy and sadness at the fact that he had so many people he didn’t want to let die.

He changed the subject in a purposely light tone to clear the recurring emotions from his mind. “By the way, what were you two up to before?”

Climb and Brain exchanged looks, and Brain answered. “Yeah, you may be busy, but we have quite a bit of free time. I had him come with me on an errand. Earlier there was another guy—Lockmeier—he showed us the way. Our objective was the adamantite-plate adventurer who saved the capital. I heard he makes this place his home base, so we went to go visit him.”

“Oh, Sir Momon?”

“Yeah, yeah, him. We didn’t really get to talk at all that time in the capital. I wanted to understand the power of the warrior everyone says is the strongest and”—his mood changed to be more serious—“I wanted to ask him about something.”

“Ask him something?” Gazef repeated it back as a question.

Brain’s expression was impossible to describe. “Oh, you know, that vampire, Shalltear Bloodfallen.”

Shalltear Bloodfallen.

Though Brain Unglaus was equal to Gazef, that ultimate vampire had broken him.

He said that monster against whom humans couldn’t win had appeared in the capital as well.

Brain thought she must have had something to do with the demon Jaldabaoth.

“…I heard that Sir Momon destroyed the powerful vampire Honyopnyoko with an ultra-rare magic item or something. And that you can find the aftermath of a huge explosion in the forest. Apparently, the fighting was so intense that his armor was all beat-up when he came back.” That’s what Gazef had heard from the mayor.

“Yeah. I heard the same things. That’s why I wanted to talk to him. First of all, personally, I don’t think anyone, even an adamantite plate, can defeat Shalltear Bloodfallen. I don’t doubt his abilities, but I did want to ask if he really finished it off. And I’m curious about this Honyopnyoko, too.”

“So you mean there might have been another vampire, too?”

“That’s right, Climb. From what I’ve been able to gather, Sir Momon was chasing two vampires, so I wanted to see if it was Honyopnyoko and Shalltear.”

“So what did you find out?”

“Well, nothing.” Brain shrugged. “He wasn’t in. Apparently, he’s out of town on a job, and it’s unclear when he’ll be back.”

“That’s too bad. I guess my luck isn’t very good, either—like you, I didn’t really get to talk to him. I was thinking if he had time I’d like to talk. Or I’d at least like to thank him for saving the capital.”

“I see. Then, when this fight is over, want to go talk to him together? If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to meet him. How about you come, too, Climb?”

“I would be happy to accompany you!”

“Okay! Now I have something to look forward to after this war. He’s an adamantite-plate warrior. I’m sure we’ll learn something if we talk with him.”

“Right. He probably has lots of instructive stories. I’m looking forward to hearing what kinds of powerful enemies he’s fought.”

“That’s surprising. I didn’t know you like those kinds of stories, Gazef.”

“Yeah, as a warrior, they definitely interest me personally… Guess we’ll have to come back alive, huh?” Gazef looked toward the Katze Plain. “I know a pub in the capital that serves great food. When this war is over, want to go there to unwind? My treat. Times like this are one of the reasons to have savings, after all.”

“Hopefully, we’ll be celebrating a victory.”

Brain stood next to Gazef and gazed in the same direction.

“Uh, er, am I invited, too?”

“Can you drink, Climb?”

There were no rules about drinking in the kingdom, but no bartenders would serve teenagers.

“Well, I’ve never done it, so I don’t know.”

“Oh? Then you should try it. Eventually, you’ll end up doing some social drinking. Like we’re talking about.”

“Yeah. It might be good to get drunk once first so you understand how it feels.”

“Understood. Then please allow me to go with you.”

“All right! All three of us are going to meet up here safe and sound! Don’t go throwing your life away!” Gazef said, and Brain and Climb nodded in return.

4

Reddish-brown earth extended into the distance. A wasteland with barely any green. It was bloodstained ground, whispered about by gossipmongers as a land of death.

The Katze Plain was crawling with undead and other monsters; it was known far and wide as a dangerous place.

Especially horrifying was the perpetual thin fog that was a constant whether night or day, gently concealing the creepers and crawlers. In fact, the fog itself gave off a slight undead reaction.

It was true the fog had never affected living creatures directly. It hadn’t sucked away their life force or harmed them. But because the fog reacted to undead detection methods, the actual undead often stayed hidden, and many an adventurer had died in a suprise attack.

It wasn’t foggy now. Visibility was clear for a long way, as if the plain were welcoming the new undead that would spawn as a result of the coming battle.

Similarly, there was no sign of any undead. Nothing moved—it was just a stretch of lifeless earth.

A collapsed spire and other centuries-old architecture stuck out of the ground like grave markers. Of course, none of the buildings retained their original shape.

Everything above the third floor of a six-story tower had crumbled, scattering rubble everywhere. Not even half the thick wall was left. Rather than weathering over time, the destruction was a product of the numerous battles that various monsters fought there.

That scene and the meadow were situated right next to each other; it was as though someone had drawn a line. That was one of the reasons people thought the plain was cursed.

In the sun’s once-a-year compassion that had begun to shine down, a building stood majestically on the other side of the line—in the land of the living—looking out over the unhappy grounds.

Its construction had required countless large trees, of which there were none in the meadow. A sturdy peripheral wall denied entry. There was also a shallow yet effective moat with sharpened tree branches jutting out of it—a precaution against unintelligent undead.

Beyond the moat, innumerable flags fluttered. Most of them were the imperial flag, featuring the crest of the Baharuth Empire.

That was only natural, since this building was the empire’s Katze Plain base.

This time the empire had mobilized sixty thousand knights. All of them were garrisoned at this base, a fact that made it unnecessary to waste words explaining how enormous the installation was. It was built with an appearance that made the words
sturdy fortress
seem most appropriate, on terrain that made it both easy to defend and difficult to attack.

Indeed, it had been erected in a hilly area. That’s not to say the Katze Plain naturally had such topography, but rather it was the result of magic.

Of course, even for the empire, whose national strategy involved increasing the amount of mages available, this wasn’t a feat that could be completed in a matter of weeks. The base had been constructed over several years.

Originally, it had been their plan to use the base as their staging point to attack E-Rantel. It was a giant fortress built with the possibility of siege warfare against hundreds of thousands of kingdom troops in mind.

The reason the kingdom hadn’t done anything to interfere with the construction was simply that it didn’t have the ability.

If the empire attacked, the kingdom would unite and protect its territory, but when it came to launching an invasion of its own, there was a lot of groundwork that needed to be laid down between factions. Another issue was who would get stuck with the financial burden of a war where there wasn’t any territory to gain.

Ultimately, it came down to the fact that unless the sparks were coming down directly on them, people didn’t feel like fighting against fires.

Above the enormous imperial fortress flew three hippogriffs. They slowly descended, tracing a large arc through the air. Any knight knew that this was the emperor’s Imperial Air Guard’s ceremonial descent pattern, which announced the arrival of an imperial messenger.

On the ground, ten knights stood by in a circle, holding imperial flags. It was a ritual to welcome a messenger from the empire. The hippogriffs swooped down into the circle. Their ability to land so close to the center showed how skillful the riders were.

Once they touched down, the messengers from the home country became visible—which was why even the honored knights who were allowed to participate in the ritual were so surprised that their flags wavered.

What threw them off was the appearance of one person who was very different from the accompanying pair. Since he didn’t have his helmet on, his handsome features were clearly visible, which let everyone recognize him right away.

The blond hair rustling slightly in the breeze, eyes like the blue of the deep sea, tensed lips that conveyed his strong will—he had the expression a knight should.

More than anything, there wasn’t a person alive who didn’t recognize his full plate armor. It was made of precious adamantite and enchanted with powerful magic on top of that. Such items were rare enough to count on one finger in the empire.

The owner of that armor was one of the most important knights in the country.

With a clear voice that matched his handsome looks, he called to one of the knights standing by. “I’d like to see the high commander of the Second Army, General Carvein. Where can I find him?”

“Sir! General Carvein is in a meeting in preparation for the battle with the kingdom that will commence a few days from now. We have orders to escort you to his tent, Sir Anoch.”

“I see. And has…His Maje—has the King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown, arrived?”

“No, sir! The King of Darkness has not yet arrived!”

“Got it.” Nimble sighed out of relief that they were properly informed and that the caster hadn’t arrived before him. “Then can I have you bring me over? There’s one other thing I’d also like to ask of you.”

He carefully removed something from his breast pocket.

Nimble waited about an hour at the splendid tent before its occupant returned with a few escorts.

It was a man in the prime of life with all white hair and a quiet demeanor. He wore the same armor as the knights, but it didn’t really suit him. He seemed more like a noble than a military man.

“Nimble, I thank you for coming.” When he cracked a smile, the aristocratic impression grew stronger. His voice was soft, seemingly out of place in this fortress ripe with the odor of battle.

Nimble replied with an informal salute.

Natel Inyem Dale Carvein…

Once an obscure noble, his skill had been acknowledged and he was selected by the previous emperor to serve as general of the Second Army. He hardly had any military achievements to his name, but he was known as a reliable commander, and it was said that if he fought, he would never lose. Naturally, the Second Army had great morale.

And in each and every move his men made, it was apparent how much they respected him.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming back here even though you’re so busy as the high commander of the expedition.”

The empire had eight armies, and each had a general as its senior officer. The general of the First Army was the great general who commanded all of them.

When there was no general of the First Army—no great general—the next lowest army number’s general would assume the position. In this case, General Carvein was the senior officer.

“Now, now, Nimble. You don’t have to be so formal. You’re here on the emperor’s orders, right? It’s not as if you’re my subordinate. Treat me as an equal.”

“Still…” Nimble smiled awkwardly.

The one in charge of the military was the emperor, but the one below that was the great general.

The empire’s strongest knights, the Four, often carried out orders straight from the emperor, so in terms of authority, they were equal to generals. But in terms of age, experience, and sheer presence, Nimble couldn’t match Carvein, so it would be difficult to treat him as an equal when no one else was around.

Looking warmly at Nimble’s flustered expression, Carvein smiled.

“It doesn’t feel right for an old man like me to be treated with such reverence by one of the empire’s strongest knights, either. At least relax a little bit.”

“Understood, General.”

Carvein nodded as if to accept Nimble’s slightly less uptight attitude. “Ah, but it’s really good timing that you came today. It’s like the fog lifted to welcome you.”

“General Carvein, surely it’s not to welcome me but the tragedy that is about to befall the kingdom. How awful.”

“Tragedy, hmm…? So will you tell me, Nimble? What’s the aim of starting a war this big anyhow? Up until now, the point was to sap the kingdom. But this time is different. This time the end goal is to seize E-Rantel as a peace concession by winning on the battlefield.” Carvein’s eyes gleamed like blades.

“…The kingdom has mobilized many more soldiers than usual. Though our knights are far stronger than their peasant soldiers, their numbers are overwhelming and violent. If we really do clash, we can expect quite a few casualties. Even if we succeed in taking E-Rantel, won’t we just hand it right over to the King of Darkness? What in the world is His Imperial Majesty thinking?”

“First, we need to be alone.”

Carvein opened his mouth slightly and jerked his head. “Out, fellas.” His aides bowed and exited the room as indicated.

“I appreciate it.”

“Wasting time is for fools, right? So will you tell me?”

“Yes. The emperor actually sent me with instructions to tell each general about our war objective.” Nimble took a seat. “The war this time is for building friendly relations with the King of Darkness, King Ainz Ooal Gown. The method we’ve decided on is to take E-Rantel at the cost of bloodshed and then give it to him for nothing.”

“Losing the knights who keep order in the empire could endanger our nation, but it’s still worth the price to make the offering to the King of Darkness?”

“Yes.”

Carvein crossed his arms and shut his eyes. But only for a moment. “Understood. If it’s the emperor’s idea, then I’ll go along.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary… Let’s work to impress the King of Darkness.”

“About that—there’s a favor I’d like to ask you.” Nimble brought up the most important reason he had come. “First, we’re going to have the King of Darkness cast a spell. We’d like the knights to move after that.”

“What’s that for? Isn’t the point for us to shed buckets of blood to get him indebted to us?”

“There is that, but another one of our goals is to see what he can do. Apparently, the emperor has asked him to use the most powerful spell he can cast. We want to see how powerful it really is.”

“…So the King of Darkness…is a potential enemy?”

“It seems like you get the idea. King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown, is the empire’s enemy.”

“I see. Then once he looses his spell, knights will charge into the wound and tear it open even more. What level of magic will it be? I wonder. Something like Fireball?”

“We’re investigating because we don’t know, but it’s estimated that his attack magic is more powerful than Paradyne’s.”

Carvein’s eyes grew huge. But only for a moment.

“I see, I see. Well, I doubt he could possibly surpass that great caster, but if that’s how much power he has, then I can see why His Majesty would want to cultivate friendly relations with him at all costs.”

Nimble said nothing.

“If several hundred people died in a single attack, that would be quite a deep wound. That would be our chance to push into their territory. If he’s really that powerful, then perhaps we won’t lose as many knights.”

Nimble thought it would be great if that was how it worked out.

What he’d heard from his fellow knights in the Four, Lightning and Heavy Bomber, was that Ainz’s power was on another level and that he might be able to use a spell that could kill thousands at once, or tens of thousands if they were bunched up. It sounded unlikely, but if it were those two saying it, there was a high probability it was true.

Carvein was right that the deaths of the professional warriors who kept the peace in the empire would be a huge loss.

Nimble would have been happier if their potential enemy Ainz was powerless, but in this case, he wanted to believe his friends.

“Oh, General. There was one more favor I wanted to ask. The King of Darkness will bring soldiers with him, so please allow them to fight alongside you.”

“Oh? How many thousands are we talking?”

“Well—”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, General Carvein, Sir Nimble!” someone shouted from outside the tent.

Carvein apologized to Nimble with a look and shouted toward the entrance. “Permission to enter granted!”

The one who came in was a fairly high-ranking knight.

“What is it? It must be an emergency?”

“Sir! A carriage bearing the flag of the King of Darkness has arrived before the gate. We’re being asked to open it. Shall we welcome them as you ordered?”

The knight was looking to Nimble, at whom Carvein then glanced. In response, Nimble gave a nod. “…Understood. Let it through at once.”

“Yes, sir! Should we inspect the carriage first?”

No matter who was inside, they couldn’t let a carriage into the garrison without inspecting it. A basic inspection included using magic to make sure there weren’t any illusions being used as disguises.

In the kingdom, they didn’t go as far as to use magic during their inspections. Probably the only place that had a rule like this was the empire, where magic was a pillar of the state. They knew how terrifying magic could be, so their guard against it was high.

Moreover, at a major military facility like this, they were using the cutting edge in magic technology. If the technology that supported the future of the country was to be leaked, it would be a devastating loss for the empire. That was why the system was set up so that even if Emperor Jircniv came, they performed the same inspection.

Thus, even if it hailed from an allied country—no, precisely because it was from an allied country—examining the carriage was the usual course of action.

But there were some situations that wouldn’t allow for that.

Carvein looked at Nimble again.

Pained by a leaden feeling and a slight pressure in his stomach, plus the weight of the object in his breast pocket, Nimble replied, “General Carvein. I’m truly sorry, but this man is a very important visitor for the empire. This is an extraordinary irregularity among irregularities, an exception among exceptions, but please just let him in.”

The general’s gentle smile changed to a blank look, and the color drained out of his face.

He realized the knight was taking Nimble’s order over his head.

No matter how kind a person, there weren’t many who would be happy to have their subordinate take orders from someone else.

And Nimble understood that very well. But it had to be done.

If all else fails…

As he was wondering whether to take out the item in his breast pocket, Carvein spoke.

“I can’t argue if it’s His Imperial Majesty’s orders. It’s his country, after all.”

“I’m glad you understand, General.”

In his pocket were written orders from the emperor. The writing on the parchment gave the person named therein the authority of the emperor. That granted Nimble authority over anything and everything that was associated with the war. Not only did it make Nimble higher ranking than Carvein for the duration of this conflict, he could even dismiss the general if the situation called for it.

Relieved that his friendly relationship hadn’t broken down with the older man he respected, he also reined in his emotions because now wasn’t the time.

“Well, shall we have a look at this King of Darkness the emperor treats as such an exception? He must be a match for the great heroes.”

Personally, Nimble didn’t really want to go.

Recalling the warnings of the other Four—well, only three now, including himself—his face became somber. But there was no way he could choose to not go. “Of course I’ll accompany you, General Carvein.”

At the edge of the barracks, a single magnificent carriage was quietly proceeding under the guidance of a knight. Surprisingly, there was no driver, and the horses weren’t anything like normal horses. They weren’t sleipnirs, either, but magical beasts with scales.

Nimble alerted the knights in the area, as well as Carvein. “Your deepest bows, please.”

What?
was the expression on all of their faces. Nimble understood the feeling very well.

One’s deepest bow was correct protocol for welcoming the king of an allied country.

But for a visit to a military base, there was no established protocol. Or rather, it was assumed such a visit would never happen.

It was extraordinarily rare to be so open, even when both parties were human, because conflicts breaking out between countries were simply reality.

The deepest bows were for ceremonies in public, in safety, not at military bases. That had to be what the soldiers were thinking.

There was one more thing.

The deepest bows were almost never given on the battlefield.

Most likely because if someone saw their commander giving the deepest possible bow, they might mistake the person on the receiving end as a superior commander. It was an unspoken rule on the battlefield.

He understood the knights’ feelings so much it pained him, but…

“Everyone, your deepest bows, please.”

He repeated it with a steely voice.

He heard Carvein sigh.

“You heard him. We’re welcoming this carriage with our deepest bows.”

When Carvein gave the order, the confused knights seemed relieved. If it was an order, all they had to do was obey. No thinking on their part was necessary.

Nimble gave him a grateful glance and saw a snide look on his face for just a moment, as if he was saying,
You have it tough, but I have it tougher.

The carriage came to a halt in front of the party.

They all gasped for two reasons.

First was how magnificent the carriage was. The primary color was a black that gleamed as if it had been cut from the sea at night, and the frame was covered with elaborate gold accents. But the metal fixtures had the dull shine particular to brass, and the leather displayed a sophisticated coppery hue, so the overall effect was elegant. Perhaps the ornamentation was a bit showy, but the carriage radiated such refinement that it seemed natural. Calling it a treasure chest wouldn’t be far off.

Nimble had ridden in the emperor’s carriage many times, so he could state with confidence that this one was grander.

The other reason they couldn’t help but gasp was the horses. No, they weren’t horses. Sharp fangs peeked out of their growling mouths. Reptilian scales coated their bodies completely, and beneath those rippled abnormally robust muscles.

It was like overpowering violence had been molded into the shape of a horse.

An acute sense of caution filled the area. Nimble himself was breathing heavily and felt sweat ooze from his back and hands. The magical beasts seemed shockingly strong.

As he was breathing raggedly in and out, the carriage’s door opened.

A dark elf girl got out.

His mind went blank.

Everyone was speechless, their eyes caught.

The girl, holding a black staff, was lovely. She was so beautiful that once she grew up, she would captivate many; undoubtedly, some men would do anything for her love. Her timid expression was reminiscent of a flower blooming stunningly in the moonlight.

But she had equipment on her hands that didn’t match her appearance.

Gauntlets.

The one on her left hand looked like something she’d pulled off some evil creature like a demon. The sinister shape was colored mainly in black. Twisted thorns jutted out with sharp points. Though it seemed to be made of metal, it had a grimy sparkle to it, like it was emitting some bizarre secretion. Just the sight of it sent horror coursing through Nimble’s body, like his very soul rejected the sight of it.

On her right hand, however, was a gauntlet reminiscent of a pure, innocent girl. It had a smooth make with a base color of snow white. Mysterious gold patterns ran the length of it, but even that decoration served only to further its beauty. This was what it meant to be captivated. It was like standing before a peerlessly beautiful woman—the gauntlet seemed about to suck in his soul.

“Oh, uh, Lord Ainz, it seems that we’ve arrived.”

“I see. Thanks, Mare.”

Then someone else appeared.

For a moment, the air stagnated.

Everyone got goose bumps at once. The presence flooding the area was different from someone’s intent to kill but difficult to describe.

Ainz Ooal Gown was dressed like many arcane casters. First, a raven-black robe. Then a cape on top of that, also black—this was strange, yes. Next, the staff he held, which was splendidly ornate but not to the point of gaudiness. Around his neck hung a necklace featuring a jewel that sparkled silver, and his face was covered with a weird mask.

“We humbly welcome you, King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown.”

Nimble bowed, but he didn’t hear anyone else.

Though he knew it was rude, he moved his head to look behind him and saw that the general and the other knights were all still standing stiff as rods.

Overawed by the King of Darkness’s presence, they couldn’t move.

He understood how they felt, but it was a problem.

It was the general, as expected, who offered a helping hand when Nimble began to panic.

“Men!” Carvein barked. It was the tone of a commander, more imposing than anyone would have imagined from this man with such an aristocratic aura. “Your deepest bows for the King of Darkness!”

“Yes, sir!”

A multitude of voices acknowledged the order as they all offered their deepest bows together.

“I appreciate the welcome…famous knights of the empire.”

The King of Darkness’s utterly normal voice was conversely creepy. There was a strange incongruity, like he was putting in a lot of effort to act like a normal person. At least that was the strong sense Nimble got—because he had heard what was lying under the mask.

“Raise your heads.”

No one raised their heads the first time he said it.

“Won’t you raise your heads?”

The second time, they did. Only for the ruler of their own country would they wait for a third.

“King of Darkness, please forgive those who did not immediately raise their heads.” He shifted his gaze and saw that the knights’ lips were white, their faces pale. “It seems they’ve forgotten themselves in their joy at meeting you.”

“No, I apologize. It seems I got a little excited here before the battlefield. Please know that it was not my intention to direct it at you.”

Ainz whipped aside the cape that had been draped over his shoulder. The raven-black fabric fluttered audibly as it spread out, almost like black wings. That same instant, whatever had been enveloping the area in what could be called a chill or heaviness melted away until nothing was left.

Standing before them was someone with the presence of any normal human.

Terrifying.

That was Nimble’s genuine impression.

He had heard from his fellow knights what a monster this was. The fact that he could seem so normal made him all the more frightening. It was like a large predatory beast was slowly sidling up to them.

Even the knights who didn’t know the details must have been struck by the abnormality of the situation. Confusion hung in the air. From Carvein, Nimble sensed comprehension. He must have understood what attitude he needed to take with this person before him, not with his mind but with his heart and soul.

“My name is Nimble Arc Dale Anoch, and I will guide you to the site of your camp.”

“Oh? Well, I’m sorry to trouble you, but thanks.”

“You are quite welcome. Then allow me to introduce a commander of the imperial army, General Carvein.”

“My name is Carvein. King of Darkness, Ainz Ooal Gown. If you are dissatisfied with any aspect of the base, I am at your service, and know that it will be handled immediately. I’d like to offer a few knights as attendants…”

“That won’t be necessary. I have my subordinate here.” Ainz pointed at the dark elf girl. “And if anything goes wrong, I’ll take care of it myself within reason.”

Carvein stiffened.

Behind his offer was the intention of attaching some monitors to make sure the caster didn’t do anything strange. They were in a military compound, after all.

But the reply he received was a flat refusal. Only someone with power would be able to give such an answer.

But Carvein, in his position, couldn’t let that go. At this rate, they wouldn’t get anywhere no matter how far they went.

Nimble was mentally on Carvein’s side, but there was no way he could answer those feelings with action.

“I see… Well, if you need anything, please let us know. That’s how we’ll do it, General Carvein.”

“Understood.”

“Oh… I forgot something.”

“What is it, King of Darkness?”

“The plan is for one of my spells to start the war, but I was thinking about having part of my army join the battle. I’d appreciate your permission.”

“That is more than we could have hoped for…” As he had been briefed earlier, Carvein accepted it immediately. But he did furrow his brow. “However, the fight will begin within the next few days, possibly as early as the day after tomorrow. How far away are your forces? I’m afraid we won’t be able to wait for them…”

“That’s no problem. They’re already nearby.”

Nimble wondered about that. He hadn’t spotted anything even resembling an army anywhere near the garrison.

It seemed like Carvein wondered the same thing. Naturally, there was a thick security net of knights patrolling the perimeter. If anyone but imperial forces approached, word would have surely reached the general. He looked to his subordinates in the area, his eyes asking if they had mismanaged any reports, but none of them seemed to have heard anything.

“Sorry. It may have been misleading to say they’re nearby. What I meant is, they can be here at any time.”

“I see…” Carvein didn’t understand, but he decided to set it aside and asked a different question. “And how many are there?”

“About five hundred, I’d say.”

“Five hundred?” Carvein skillfully hid it, but Nimble didn’t miss his disappointment. “Carvein, the King of Darkness’s forces can be lined up alongside ours, correct?”

The empire had to shed the most blood to demonstrate its loyalty to Ainz. It would be preferable if his forces acted only in case of an emergency, but there would be no problems if they formed ranks together.

“Five hundred shouldn’t require a change to our formation, and I’m sure you would like your own soldiers to guard you.”

The implication was,
Please don’t participate aggressively in the attack.
To show the empire’s sincerity, it had to be the party shedding the blood. It wouldn’t help their positions if Ainz’s forces did all the heavy lifting.

Ainz nodded in satisfaction at Nimble’s comment. Nimble was secretly relieved, but when he thought about it, it was only natural. What could he expect to do with five hundred soldiers anyhow? They were probably meant more as an honor guard than anything.

But what happened next was beyond anything Nimble had imagined.

Ainz activated some kind of spell and spoke into space. “Can you hear me? Shalltear? Open a Gate here and send over the troops.” Ainz’s eyes seemed to move behind his mask.

“All right, General, I’ve summoned my army.”

As he finished speaking, the commotion began.

Something that appeared to be a dark half circle appeared, floating behind Ainz.

Gate.
The word flickered across Nimble’s mind.

The gate opened, and the figures who emerged were…

—All noise ceased.

A strange atmosphere and a heavy silence dominated the space. It was as if the sound of stillness had flooded the area.

The five hundred soldiers appeared. It was a paltry amount compared to the empire’s sixty thousand. But it was impossible to underestimate a single one of them.

The odd forces arrayed before them spoke louder than words.

“This is my army.” Ainz merrily introduced his troops to the speechless onlookers.