Overlord

Intermission

Jircniv had been doing well.

Very well.

In any case, well.

The stomach pains he had suffered since visiting the magnificent nightmare that was Nazarick were long gone, and the drawer he had once stocked with potions now held only paperwork as it was meant to. He had been liberated from every sort of distress, and he didn’t have to stare in shock at the collection of hairs he had been pulling off his pillow.

It felt wonderful.

It felt nice.

It felt comfortable.

It was quite possibly the first time in his life he had ever felt so free. He nearly expected to sprout wings and go soaring into the air.

He kept his genuine smile put away in his heart and faced his subordinates. His unattractive consort told him he had been smiling more recently, but he couldn’t do it here. There was a base level of dignity he had to maintain.

And so the meeting of the Imperial Court began.

Jircniv had several secretaries, but the one before him now was the absolutely outstanding Reaunet Vermilion.

The man’s transfer to a sinecure after he had returned from the King of Darkness’s palace, in order to make sure nothing had been done to him there, was ancient history; he was now appointed head secretary. Certainly, it hadn’t been done because they were sure he was free of undue influence but to show the Nation of Darkness that they suspected no secrets. And it was the truth that Reaunet was outstanding.

Glancing over the documents Reaunet had handed him, Jircniv couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they were.

“They really write the silliest things. What do you think about the report that His Majesty the King of Darkness has died?”

“For one thing, it is, without a doubt, a complete and total whopper of a lie.”

Jircniv was in utmost agreement.

“Yeah, it’s certainly a fabrication. It’s unthinkable that His Majesty the King of Darkness would lose or die.”

This was the caster who had turned an army of two hundred thousand into rubble with a single spell and could hold his own in hand-to-hand combat against the martial king, the strongest warrior in the Empire. Jircniv could declare with confidence that no one could possibly kill him.

Of course, the king couldn’t be poisoned and wouldn’t die of sickness or old age, either. The report was more likely to be a bad joke with the punch line that he was dead to begin with.

“Well, he’s probably trying to sniff out discontents. But there’s one problem.”

“Which is?”

“Would the terrifyingly wise King of Darkness choose a plan like this that anybody could see through? Perhaps there’s some other… Yes, perhaps there is some plot that even I cannot fathom lurking further down.”

Who could claim with certainty that there wasn’t? No, this was a plan by the same intellectual monster who could read Jircniv’s every move. He was sure this was only the tip of the iceberg. The fact that Jircniv was even thinking these sorts of things could have been part of the king’s aim for whatever reason.

But what if this was intrigue cooked up not by the king but by one of the king’s subordinates—for example, that stupid-looking frog monster?

“…I don’t know. That said, if I don’t know, I have no choice but to give up and accept my ignorance. My only job in the first place is to follow orders from the prime minister, Lady Albedo. As long as I obediently perform my role, we won’t have any problems. As someone in charge of a vassal state, being moderately incompetent will make me less likely to get purged.”

“I think you’re right, Your Majesty.” Reaunet shrugged. He never used to do that, but experience must have taught him well. Perhaps it’s better to say he had been emboldened.

Whether the King of Darkness was dead or alive, the Empire would be fine as long as it didn’t lose its status as a vassal of the Nation of Darkness. That way, Jircniv could stay clear of whatever intrigue would play out. Loyalty was the best defense. If he did all that and was still killed, he could die laughing at how narrow-minded they were.

“Is that it for today’s work, then?”

Since becoming a vassal, Jircniv was about half as busy as usual, but even so, he was surprised by the lack of duties.

“No, Your Majesty. There’s more. This arrived first thing this morning. It’s from the knights.”

Sadly, that wasn’t the end.

Jircniv accepted the paper with a sardonic smile.

A quick glance revealed it to be complaints about the reorganization of the orders.

At one time, it had been necessary to pay the knights a certain degree of consideration. Frankly, Jircniv had a lot of nobles who opposed him, so he couldn’t afford to make enemies of the country’s martial powers as well. But now things were different.

“Tell them they can complain to His Majesty the King of Darkness themselves. What a waste of paper.”

The paper that reports and the like were written on was made with daily-life magic, and it cost a lot no matter what tier of spell was used. Someone of Jircniv’s status could toss sheafs of the stuff
after one use, but he had no intention of tacitly advocating the abuse of expenses.

The paper created with tier-zero daily-life magic was coarse, thick, and tinged with color.

The paper created with tier-one daily-life magic was thinner and whiter. This type could be made with paper manufacturing technology as well. But due to low production at this level, it fetched a high price.

The paper created with tier-two daily-life magic was remarkably thin and pure white. Of course, with magic, it was possible to make nearly any color of paper one desired, but since this tier could make the silky smooth, high-quality “noble paper,” all production capacity was entirely devoted to churning that out.

“I can’t say that I fail to understand their resistance to leaving our national security up to another country…”

“And like I’m always telling you, direct those sorts of complaints to Lady Albedo, not me. Besides, we’re not leaving it completely up to them.”

This was about instructions from Prime Minister Albedo of the Nation of Darkness to fill out a portion of the Empire’s military power with the Nation of Darkness’s undead soldiers.

Jircniv’s response to this direction, which seemed like part of the overarching vassal-state plan, was going to be to have some of their knights retire and disband two of their eight armies.

Many of their troops were mentally drained after the recent massacre, so it didn’t strike him as a bad idea; the poor reaction must have been protesting the fewer number of positions to go around.

“They’ll still have a place in the military. This is just a reshuffle…”

“They must be upset about reduced pay and anxious about doing jobs they’ve never done before.”

“All I can say about the latter is that they’ll have to work at it, but the former is simply a matter of course. Who would pay people simply performing manual labor the same as people risking their lives?” Jircniv sniffed disdainfully and decided to ignore the message.

Before, he would have had to put some thought into how to lead them, but not anymore.

Jircniv was backed by an absolute power, the King of Darkness. If there were any problems, he could just say,
Talk to the king
, and shut down any discontent immediately.

There was no one in the Empire who would dare complain to the one who had perpetrated
that
slaughter, who was skilled enough in martial arts to defeat the martial king.

Previously, their dissatisfaction would have been directed at Jircniv, but now that they lived under the King of Darkness’s umbrella, he was secure. No, the king was feared, so Jircniv was more than secure.

And in the first place, there was surprisingly little discontent in the Empire at being made a vassal to the Nation of Darkness.
That was because the Nation of Darkness made very few demands. There were some small things—mainly two.

One was to amend some of the Empire’s laws to include a preamble about the absolute supremacy of the King of Darkness and his aides.

The second was to hand over criminals sentenced to death. That was surprising in a different way. Jircniv had expected them to be brutalized, but one had even been returned to the Empire as falsely charged.

The people’s daily lives hadn’t changed much at all.

“Now then, I need to finish this work so I can welcome my friend.”

Today a new, true friend was scheduled to come. The preparations had all been made, so Jircniv just had to get through his tasks.

After about thirty minutes of administrative odds and ends, one of his subordinates arrived, and the guards and Jircniv allowed him in.

“Your Majesty, the guest you’re expecting has arr—”

“Ohhh! Show him right in!”

He wasn’t done with his work yet. But what did that matter? What could possibly be more important than greeting his friend?

The friend was ushered in.

Jircniv stood with a huge smile and spread his arms in welcome.

The friend was a subhuman that looked like a stout little mole. The enchanted pendant Jircniv had gifted him jangled around his neck.

“Ohhh! So good of you to come, my true friend Riyuro!” Jircniv didn’t hesitate to clasp his arms around Riyuro.

“Ahhh, Jircniv, my comrade in pain! My deepest gratitude for the invitation!”

Riyuro hugged Jircniv back. He had claws, so he took care not to injure the emperor with them, which Jircniv could tell from how gentle the motion was.

After embracing for a time, the two naturally separated in a mutual way.

“What are you talking about? You know my gate is always open to you, Riyuro!”

Riyuro grinned.

Since he was a subhuman, his grin looked downright ferocious, but Jircniv understood he was smiling. Their relationship was that close.

Jircniv found it somewhat funny.

From the time he was born, he had been raised as a candidate for emperor, and his peers had only viewed him as the crown prince. Thus, he was never able to build any meaningful relationships. Still, to think his first friend would be a subhuman…

Heh-heh. Me of ten or fifteen years ago would never believe it… This is one thing I really do owe to that undead.

They had met in the waiting room when he had gone to visit the King of Darkness.

At the time, he had only wondered where the subhuman was from and how far the King of Darkness’s rule had expanded.

After that, they met once more, so they talked, each angling to draw information out of the other—only to unexpectedly hit it off. One minute together felt as rich as a month’s worth of time spent with anyone else, and thus this best of friendships was formed.

They didn’t bother with stiff terms and titles, but not because they were both rulers.

No, they had something else in common.

The two of them suffered under the same abuser; they were both victims.

“Come, your jaw will hit the floor at the sight of the sumptuous feast we have prepared. Today we can take a load off and appreciate each other’s struggles.”

“Yes, I look forward to it, Jircniv. And I brought you a bunch of those mushrooms you liked. Please eat them later.”

“Oh! You shouldn’t have, Riyuro!”

The mushrooms Riyuro prepared as a gift were an incredibly fragrant, precious variety known as black jewels.

They left the room shoulder to shoulder.

Jircniv had been anxious when he heard that in the Nation of Darkness, subhumans were treated the same as humans.

But with a glance at Riyuro next to him, only one thought came to mind.

There’s nothing wrong with subhumans.

Not compared to undead, not compared to the King of Darkness.

“By the way, did you hear the news, Riyuro? Apparently, the King of Darkness has passed away.”

Riyuro exhaled hard through his nose. That was a laugh.

“Jircniv, that can’t be true. Th-the king wouldn’t simply
die
.”

“Yeah. I agree. But…I wonder which country’s people he’s torturing this time.”

“Hmm…”

Riyuro stared into space like Jircniv.

Their eyes contained sorrow—as the pair grieved the tragedy that was no doubt occurring in some far-off place. And they felt pity for those who would surely become their new friends.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The scream that abruptly filled the room caused the man to freeze. He was a member of the underground organization known as the Eight Fingers, and he had seen a lot of shocking things. But he had never witnessed such an explosion of deep, dark emotions as this. This was true hatred, a genuine curse.

He wouldn’t have been so surprised if it had come from an
enemy. He surely would have even been able to crack a smile if that had been the case. But the voice came from his friend with whom he had shared identical pain and strife.

Until now, even members of the same organization would have held one another back, struggled for power, and exploited one another’s weaknesses on the daily. If two people’s interests clashed, there would have been blood on the ground.

But now things were different.

If one person was gone, everyone else had to work harder, and the chances that they failed increased. When that happened, they were held jointly responsible and dragged off to an unspeakable hell. Being reprimanded once had given them nightmares and made it impossible to keep solid food down. Who knew what the next hell might contain.

The thought alone was enough to make them all pitch in if someone fell behind in their work and to be considerate of one another’s physical and mental health—out of desperation.

They were all in the same boat, a community with a common destiny—true friends.

And it was one of those friends who was howling and rolling around on the cold marble floor. The fear that if he didn’t learn the cause he would soon end up the same spurred the man into action.

“Wh-what is it, Hilma? What happened?”

The screaming woman stopped her flailing, and her motion was almost an oozing as she looked up at him. “I can’t! Trade spots
with me! My stomach hurts! I can’t watch this idiot anymore! What is wrong with him?! Even if he isn’t stupid, he must be completely devoid of intelligence!”

There was only one man among them who got called an idiot. Before, the word
idiot
had been used in various ways, but this guy was a
true
idiot, making it impossible to throw the term around lightly any longer.

“…What happened? The idiot’s up to his usual stupidity?”

It was as if Hilma was spewing out all her pent-up anger as she began to talk a blue streak.

“Yes, exactly! You heard about how His Majesty the King of Darkness died, right?”

He would have liked to ask her to slow down a bit, but half the point of listening was to relieve her stress, so he decided to bear with her. “Yeah, of course.”

The Eight Fingers had spread the news. Which meant, of course, that they spread it throughout the Re-Estize Kingdom via merchants they had no direct connections with.

“And what do you suppose he said when he heard that?!”

This guy was an idiot. That had to be kept in mind when replying. But he could only think of normal things. Realizing it would be impossible to know what a true idiot would say, he gave up and offered something commonplace.

“…Something about a funeral?”

“If that were all, my stomach wouldn’t be killing me like this!
He’s saying that if he marries Lady Albedo, maybe he’ll be able to gain control of the Nation of Darkness!”

“Eeegh!” Emitting a hoarse yelp in spite of himself, the man hastily scanned the area.

He couldn’t sense them, but he was sure there were observers from the Nation of Darkness present. Confirming that they weren’t coming for him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

They had been ordered to find an idiot, but he was not about to be thrown into that hell for turning in someone too idiotic.

“Hey, hey, hey! We were ordered to get an idiot, but maybe we should do away with that guy and find one who’s a little more normal!”

“Is there anyone else we can get?”

The man’s answer made Hilma scream and flail again. “Aaaaaaah!” The hem of her dress flew up, exposing her thighs.

The man pitied the woman for being reduced to this shameful state, utterly devoid of any charm or appeal, despite her past renown as a beautiful, high-class prostitute—because he knew that if it were him in her place, he would surely be screaming and rolling around on the floor, too.

“Hilma, please hang in there a little longer.”

She froze again and cast an envious glare at him. “You could manipulate the guy…or rather, warn him not to do anything stupid.”

“But shouldn’t that idiot be easy to handle given how you’re a woman?”

His question had Hilma rolling around, screaming “Aaaaaaaaaah!” again. That was her answer.

“It won’t be that long. Two or three more years and we’ll be able to make our move. Make him an even bigger idiot by then. I’ll help you build the idiot faction.”

“Two years is way too looooooong!”

“But those are our orders. Control the intel so that no matter what they do, it doesn’t matter, and create a faction that acts in an increasingly stupid manner.”

“I know that, but c’moooooon!”

Hilma froze and sat up. “You’re so lucky. All you did was use traders to tell the second prince that the King of Darkness—His Majesty, yes, His Majesty, is dead!”

You say that like it’s nothing
, he thought.

He had never thought of that prince as clever. But recently it hit him that he had been putting on an act because of his elder brother.

Since the recipient was no slouch, he had to take careful pains before handing over any information. It couldn’t come out that they were working for the King of Darkness.

“…My job isn’t a walk in the park, either, you know.”

“…Yeah, sorry. I know you have it rough, too… How’s tonight look?” Hilma mimed drinking.

“Not bad. Let’s do it somewhere no intel will leak even if we get trashed.”

They couldn’t handle solids, but drinks were a different story.

“Ha-ha.” A wan smile appeared on Hilma’s face. “We’ll be fine. Our supervisor will handle it.”

“Ha-ha.” He matched her laugh. “I suppose…you’re right…”

“I do wonder where the lucky fellow is…”

There was only one lucky fellow among them.

“Coccodor? He lost all his authority during that mess. He must still be locked up…lucky bastard.”

“Uh-huh…seriously…”