Overlord, Vol. 14: The Witch of the Doomed Kingdom

Prologue

The Great Tomb of Nazarick—Ainz’s quarters on the ninth floor.

The room closest to the hall had been converted into an office. The owner was absent—yet the room was filled with the sound of shuffling documents.

Here sat Albedo, captain of the floor guardians.

The imposing desk in the center was for Ainz alone. A separate desk and chair were placed nearby—smaller yet no less refined. This was where Albedo sat, sifting through paperwork.

Naturally, she had an office of her own.

One of the spare rooms intended for new guild members had been repurposed as her work area and was as grand as Ainz’s. She was allowed to use it as she pleased and had full ownership over the space.

But it wasn’t long before she could no longer bear it and had begged her lord to let her work in the same room as him.

Initially, he had been against the idea, but after she bombarded him with a torrential list of workflow advantages, he finally relented.

Albedo glanced at his empty seat, then at her hands, biting her lip. The maid on Ainz room duty—separate from the maid currently on Ainz duty—was standing behind her, so no one caught a glimpse of this rare moment of weakness.

Albedo’s one and only master was away from Nazarick.

He was in E-Rantel, taking care of things there.

If she had her druthers, she would eliminate all who robbed her of her precious time in his company—all the fools he was meeting today included.

Sadly, that was not in the cards. She was forced to content herself with visions of E-Rantel burning to the ground. The respite was fleeting, and the frustrations eating away at her escaped her lips.

“Loathsome insects…”

A ripple of fear ran across the rafters, but Albedo paid it no heed. She had not forgotten how certain interlopers had gotten in her way once. A few more moments of abject terror was more than called for. (Mare had made it up to her and was long since forgiven.)

Feeling somewhat mollified, Albedo sighed, rolled her shoulders, and tackled the next document.

Nazarick—nay, the Nation of Darkness was expanding steadily, and her workload was growing along with it.

Foreign policy—

Beneath the surface of official diplomatic negotiations, an increasingly intense intelligence campaign was underway.

The Theocracy, the kingdom, the city-state alliance—all had agents within E-Rantel, verified and granted free rein. Demiurge was in charge of monitoring that situation, and all Albedo needed to do was stay up to date on the reports that came her way.

Domestic policy—

They’d moved a number of races into E-Rantel, but this had not caused many issues. Not
none
but astonishingly few compared to other realms.

No overt threats had been made, so everyone was just voluntarily on their best behavior—mindful of how fearsome their ruler’s undead minions could be. Crime rates were extremely low; there were some minor infractions but absolutely no major crimes. The city had become so safe that women and children could walk the streets at night without concern. This had actually created a shortage of criminals to experiment on, which made it necessary to ask the Empire for more.

It was the crimes that
did
occur in such a safe city that caught Albedo’s interest. Heinrich’s triangle supposes that for every major accident, twenty-nine minor incidents and three hundred irregularities go unnoticed. In a similar vein, she believed that every irregularity should be identified and dealt with.

The binder in hand contained a month’s worth of judicial reports generated by E-Rantel.

The reports were quite detailed, so it took time to comb through them all, but Albedo could process information far faster than the average mortal. She flipped through the pages so fast, it seemed like she was barely glancing at them.

She had a pen in one hand, and as she read, she quickly jotted her observations down on a nearby blank page.

Were the judgments appropriate?

Why had this criminal committed that crime? What conclusions could be drawn about order in E-Rantel, about problems hidden in the minds of the populace?

Should new laws be passed?

Where anyone else would have been combing through case precedents or assembling teams of advisers, Albedo only looked once—analyzing, weighing, and addressing the problems all on her own. This required a thorough knowledge of all aspects of domestic policy and a genuinely inhuman level of intelligence.

She finished going through the binder and laid her pen down.

Her notes were merely a list of reminders; now she needed to gather those disparate thoughts into one cohesive document.

Since this was for her lord’s eyes, even a single malformed character was unacceptable. Preparing a summary of the issues and her proposed solutions took far longer than reading the binder itself.

When she was done, Albedo proofed the document and allowed herself a small smile.

Not because she was done with work but because she was confident this would be useful to her master.

She slipped the summary into the binder and held it up. The maid took it from her and carried it to their lord’s desk.

It was the fifth such volume today alone.

Albedo frowned.

That was less than ideal.

Directly or indirectly, the Nation of Darkness was growing. That caused no end of problems and a distinct increase in the amount of paperwork demanding their lord’s attention. But if their ruler was stuck behind a mountain of documents, that proved there were major flaws in their organization.

Ideally, the great leader would simply decide the general direction of policy by setting high-level strategic goals. Then he need merely sit upon his throne while the creations of his fellow Supreme Beings worked their tails off to achieve those ends.

Through no fault of his own, this was not the case. Few could work at the level their exalted ruler expected. Consequently, they were facing a severe personnel shortage. Albedo was in charge of both domestic policy and overseeing Nazarick’s staff, so resolving this was a responsibility that fell squarely in her lap—and while she had taken steps to improve things, there was still no light at the end of the tunnel.

The last thing I want is to burden him, but there’s so much I need his input on—racial harmony, new laws, economic policy—and if I debrief the other floor guardians on their tasks in his stead, then they’ll get no time with Lord Momonga, and morale will crumble.

Their leader had given Albedo sweeping powers to make these decisions, insisting that if she thought it was right, then it must be so. But she continued to seek approval, just in case, well aware of her own potential for failure.

For instance, she had deemed some actions an insult to their lord and promptly decided to send the perpetrators along with anyone even remotely related to them to the Ice Prison. Unsure whether to call this crime defamation or stupidity, she’d asked his opinion—and been shocked to find him opposed to the punishment itself.

She had lacked a proper understanding of their lord’s magnanimity—and still cringed each time she remembered her shortcomings.

I was well aware Lord Momonga is a merciful ruler, yet…

Her lower lip was starting to jut out. Yet another look she usually never allowed herself to make. A fleeting expression seen only in her master’s absence.

She quickly pulled herself together and reached for the next binder.

Even as she inspected the contents, part of her mind was on something else.

On the guardian she had to be most cautious around—Demiurge.

With their schemes in the Sacred Kingdom concluded, he was busy flitting around Nazarick’s interior, setting up the Intelligence Agency. This was a headache for Albedo. As captain of the floor guardians, she was the natural choice to head it up—but there was a decent chance Demiurge would wind up in charge instead, and that would clearly lead to trouble.

If possible, she would like to strip him of that power and give it to someone easier to control.

Several faces came to mind, but all lacked something vital.

If it can’t be me, then I suppose I could stomach Pandora’s Actor. But overtly trying to wrest power from Demiurge will be a nightmare.

A move like that might clue him in to her true intentions.

Albedo couldn’t have that—so she needed to be careful and play it safe.

Perhaps her older sister could be counted on for certain things, but even family weren’t unconditional allies. She, too, might turn on Albedo if she knew the truth.

She
could
trust her younger sister, Nazarick’s most powerful denizen—and Albedo was sure that even if her secret plans were discovered, her sister would stand by her. But that was only because their lord had ordered her to obey Albedo.

This won’t do.

She needed more options.

It wasn’t just personnel. There were shortages everywhere—like the amount of money she could personally handle. That was why their lord’s expansion of their organization beyond Nazarick itself had been so essential.

Personally seeing to the newly reorganized Adventurers Guild…keeping tabs on Mare…watching over Aura…Cocytus’s domain…Victim’s intel…the value of Shalltear’s transport network…using the slush funds earned from trade…more staff…then Demiurge and that girl…

Albedo’s mind shot in far more directions than anyone else could have managed in such a short time, and her brow creased.

No. I have to be careful around Demiurge, and bringing that girl in is too great a risk. In fact, she might require more caution than Demiurge does…

Even as plans spun in her mind, she finished the task at hand.

She picked up the next binder.

This one had very little in it. Either it was a preliminary report on a new problem, or it had been submitted by someone like Shalltear, still mastering the art of documentation.

Albedo checked the cover.

It read, “Issues Occurring in the Sacred Kingdom Food Supply Division.”

Clearly a case of the former. Albedo had not heard of any such problems before.

Curious, Albedo began to peruse the document. She blinked a few times, her eyes going wide. Then she read again from the top. When she was sure the contents contained no metaphors or deceptions, she let her mouth fall open.

“Huh?” she said, a look of utter incomprehension on her face. She was at a total loss.

It was a rare piece of news indeed that could elicit this response from one of Nazarick’s brightest minds.

Yet, even now, that brilliant mind was spinning back up, contemplating potential causes and outcomes of the problem on the page.

The most likely explanation is that the girl has betrayed us. Has some other party made a better offer? I was certain no such offer existed. No, I shouldn’t rush to any conclusions. We simply don’t have enough information yet.

She needed to speak directly to the reporter and any colleagues who would be involved with the issue—particularly Demiurge.

And all that before reporting it to their master.

She looked over the other two reports, determined that they were of little importance, and called to the maid behind her.

“I must attend an emergency meeting. I’m headed to the seventh floor to speak to Demiurge. If anyone comes to see me, tell them I’ll be out for a while.”

With that, she activated the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown worn on her left ring finger.

As captain, she was
always
aware of the locations of every other floor guardian.

Demiurge had wrapped up work in the Sacred Kingdom and should have been back in his residence on the seventh floor, planning how the council state, the Theocracy, and the city-state alliance would be approached in the coming days.

If he was out, then she could just grab Entoma and have her Message him or ask her sister where he might be.

Albedo teleported away.

Re-Estize, capital of the kingdom that bore its name.

Ro-Lente Castle, Valencia Palace.

The great kings of history toiled in this room. Yet, here sat not the current monarch, Ramposa III, but the second prince, Zanac Valléon Igana Ryle Vaiself.

Running his eyes down the document before him, he allowed himself a gloomy sigh. He was confident none who read this paper could manage a look of any cheer.

It spoke to the current state of the kingdom.

The battle on Katze Plain—more of a massacre, really—had cost the lives of far too many citizens. That said, it had not been terrible enough to deal a fatal blow to the kingdom itself. Some nine million called the kingdom home and one hundred eighty thousand of them had perished in that nightmare. Arguably, only 2 percent of the total population had been lost. What’s more, many of them were the second or third sons of farmers—spares, more or less—or apprentices who had yet to master their trades. It was hardly something to be said in polite company, but none of those losses truly
mattered
.

At the same time, 4 percent of the male population had died. And all of them at prime working age. The report before him made it clear the toll that had been incurred.

Zanac snorted loudly and let the page fall to the desk. He glanced at the other occupant of the room.

“Sister, what would
you
do?”

His younger sister was seated on a couch not far away. Smiling faintly, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself looked up from the document she was reading. “That’s an awfully vague question—could I beg you to be more specific?”

“This.”

In lieu of explanation, he picked up the document, waving it in the air. Renner rose to her feet and came closer, taking it from him.

“…Oh,” she said, scanning the report. “Um…there’s not much we
can
do.”

“Ugh…”

Zanac’s eyes turned to the heavens.

His sister was far brighter than he was, and if even she was giving up… But doing nothing would make him unfit to rule.

“Is it that big a deal? Certainly, there’s a temporary dip but only temporary. I wouldn’t have thought it needed to be addressed proactively.”

“When our yields drop, it won’t be long before some people begin to starve.”

Repeated clashes with the Empire had prevented them from stockpiling provisions. On top of that, E-Rantel—originally part of the king’s personal holdings and a major breadbasket region—had been annexed by the Nation of Darkness.
And
the casualties had reduced the number of hands in the fields.

The kingdom was potentially safe for the moment, but in a few more years, the dwindling food production would inflate prices, and odds were high the most vulnerable would not have enough to eat. That future was all but guaranteed.

“True.”

“Sister, this may not interest you, but all it will take is a drought or a cold snap in the summer to spell disaster.”

“Powerful druids can control the weather, so I doubt we need to worry about sunlight. We can just hire some adventurers—though I imagine their fees will be rather steep. Either way, we’d better find out if there are any high-level druids among the local adventurers. There was a time we could have turned to the Empire’s adventurers for help in a pinch, but they’ve been vassalized by the Nation of Darkness, so that could be tricky.”

“That would certainly help with drought. But, Sister, what about cold?”

“Again, the druids will have to pitch in.”

Zanac gave Renner’s face a long, searching look, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Perhaps she didn’t know.

Like Renner said, a high-ranked druid could temporarily make it rain, which was certainly helpful if there wasn’t enough rainfall. But druid magic was useless against serious drops in temperature—he’d heard this from his former confidant, Marquis Raeven.

Combating the cold required constantly raising temperatures throughout the season. Even attempting such a scheme would require each village to have its own high-level druid on duty around the clock—and druids were hardly common to begin with. Assembling hundreds of them was out of the question.

Never in a million years would that sort of magic knowledge be included in the curriculum of the masses, and it wasn’t commonly taught in noble homes, either. Royal ones were no exception.

Zanac had only gotten an opportunity to learn it through personal connections.

This shortcoming was directly caused by the low status of casters in the kingdom. If they were like the Empire and had someone as impressive as the Triad Caster to call their own, perhaps things would be different. Unfortunately, the people of the kingdom had little interest in understanding magic and placed far too much stock in the heroics of knights. Consequently, it was not surprising that their society had not produced any casters capable of changing their minds.

This pervading idea convinced the nobility that magic was useless in war, and they passed that attitude down from generation to generation, leaving their heirs both ignorant and contemptuous wherever magic was concerned. A downward spiral that showed no signs of ending.

Zanac was well aware that magic could be incredibly powerful.

And if stupid conventions continued to prevent them from using it fully, then the kingdom was doomed to be defeated in battle or else to slowly wither on the vine. Zanac had every intention of assigning his own children the best magic tutor he could find. If the royals started learning magic in earnest, then other nobility would follow suit.

Of course, that sort of guidance might have already become redundant, as the Nation of Darkness was ruled by a powerful magical being, and proximity alone would change many people’s minds about the value of magic. Perhaps the nobles were already studying.

While it was far from ideal for such change to come about from external pressures, Zanac could look the other way as long as it benefited the kingdom as a whole.

But given the current state of affairs, Renner’s ignorance made sense.

Genius or not, if she was unaware of the facts, she could easily draw the wrong conclusions. Trusting her blindly was not without its risks.

On the other hand, Renner was close with the adamantite adventurer team the Blue Roses. It would not prove difficult for her to learn more about any sort of magic, given adequate time and interest. The real question was if Zanac knew something, would a creature as uniquely brilliant as his sister really leave it unverified?

He could see no reason why she would lie about something this trivial, so perhaps it was just a rare glimpse of human failing. A momentary mental lapse.

He was well aware Renner had no designs on the throne.

Her goals were, to his eyes, insignificant. And yet, they were indeed something she could not possibly gain if she did take the throne. In other words, fooling Zanac would do her no good.

“Sister, druid powers are no match for cold.”

“Oh? That’s less than ideal. Oh, but wait! At the end of the day, this is a question of how much food we have stockpiled, yes? Then we have more than enough. What a relief!”

She smiled while Zanac did the exact opposite.

“The stockpiles you speak of…I’d really rather not. Is there any guarantee eating those won’t turn you undead?”

The kingdom did, technically, have a surplus in storage.

Their merchants’ warehouses contained more than enough food to go around. But their plans could not hinge on
that
supply. And strictly speaking, it was not the kingdom’s property.

These provisions were in the kingdom’s warehouses, thanks to a contract with the terrifying undead king—the ruler of the Nation of Darkness. This arrangement was unprecedented—no records of anything like it were found in any kingdom history book.

The merchants were permitted to sell it at their own discretion, but the customs fees involved meant the price was much higher than ordinary foodstuffs. That price had been set by the Nation of Darkness, and no discounts were allowed. As a result, the populace hadn’t bought any, and it was merely taking up space.

This also meant none of the kingdom’s wealth was flowing into the Nation of Darkness, so they suffered no financial losses.

That made it sound like there was no problem.

But Zanac could not help but see it as part of the Nation of Darkness’s schemes—and Renner agreed with him.

“The Sacred Kingdom’s people are eating them, so the provisions themselves are demonstrably harmless.”

“Or they want us thinking that! Then we’ll only find out too late that they’ve left booby-trapped food behind in our territory!”

Renner winced. “You don’t really think that.”

“You’re not wrong. We’ve already investigated them thoroughly, after all.”

The Nation of Darkness had made it clear that the primary reason for using their kingdom’s warehouses was to establish a route for providing the Sacred Kingdom aid.

All the food currently in those storerooms would eventually be shipped out.

The Re-Estize Kingdom had offered no guarantee of safe passage; if bandits or monsters attacked any of the convoys, that was a problem for the Nation of Darkness to handle. They hired guards as expected, but to defend their interests, they’d asked for permission to fly the Nation of Darkness’s flag over the wagons hauling these supplies to make it obvious who owned them. Not wanting any headaches, the kingdom had allowed it—in return for customs fees and a promise not to allow any of the Nation of Darkness’s undead inside their borders. This had proved to be a mistake.

Now the Re-Estize Kingdom was full of convoys flying the flag of the Nation of Darkness. The wagons rolled right down city streets into a harbor with shipping routes to the Sacred Kingdom. It was a clear demonstration that the kingdom could not refuse the Nation of Darkness’s requests—and since their neighbor was so enthusiastic about “foreign aid,” these convoys were painfully frequent.

The more tactics like this undermined their authority, the more likely the Re-Estize Kingdom would be forced to raise a fist or bend the knee. And the nature of these encroachments meant the latter was far more likely. It was as effective as it was underhanded.

Worst of all, since it was outwardly for a morally upstanding cause, the Re-Estize Kingdom could hardly ask them to stop.

Before being defeated by the King of Darkness, the great demon Jaldabaoth had rampaged through the Re-Estize Kingdom, including its capital. He and the host of monsters under his control then laid waste to the northern half of the Sacred Kingdom, and Zanac had been told the damage was far worse than anything his kingdom had suffered.

Yet, as extensive as the damage to the Sacred Kingdom’s northern reaches was, the southern regions remained largely unharmed.

With the Holy Lady’s death, a new holy king had taken the throne. He had his hands full with the disorder caused by the deaths of northern nobles and conflicts with powerful leaders to the south.

These competing interests had piled up until a struggle for power began, threatening to split the Sacred Kingdom in two.

As a result, aid to the north was delayed, and the people there were struggling to find their daily bread.

Salvation came in the form of supplies bearing the mark of the Nation of Darkness, which were shipped to them from the Re-Estize Kingdom’s warehouses.

A good plan, Zanac admitted.

With conditions that dire, a gift of food would make anyone forget it came from the undead.

“If only we were capable of sending food, the goodwill their king is earning would be ours. But after… Well, it’s simply not possible.”

Were it not for that bloody battle.

Or were it not for everything stolen from the capital during Jaldabaoth’s attack, perhaps things would have been different. They could have fed the Sacred Kingdom themselves, and the King of Darkness would have remained untrusted.

Their complete failure to do anything of the sort had earned their representative a frosty reception at the new holy king’s coronation.

This wasn’t due to any lingering resentment caused by long-simmering conflict between two neighboring countries; during the reign of the Holy Lady, Calca Bessarez, the Re-Estize Kingdom and Sacred Kingdom had been on fairly cordial terms.

But even before the famine, when Jaldabaoth had been tearing the Sacred Kingdom apart, the Re-Estize Kingdom had refused to send any and all aid, causing a fatal rift in their relations.

Naturally, it had never been an option for them given their own difficulties.

Ainz Ooal Gown, the King of Darkness, had unleashed his most powerful spell upon their armies, and with
so many
dead, they’d been at their wit’s end simply dealing with the aftermath. And losing many of their best warriors—including the kingdom’s strongest, the captain of the Royal Select, Gazef Stronoff. As resources dwindled, how could they have offered anything in the struggle against that vile demon?

But anything they might offer by way of explanation would only sound like the feeble excuses of a heartless realm. What the Re-Estize Kingdom had done was what
any
country would have done—except the Nation of Darkness.
They
sent both military aid and humanitarian relief. Tearing the Re-Estize Kingdom down a peg in the process.

Zanac’s own diplomats reported that the northern reaches of the Sacred Kingdom held the Nation of Darkness in high esteem.

“One delayed response after another…”

All leading to even bigger problems.

A run of bad luck but leading unerringly to their current predicament.

“But if…”

“Brother!”

“Ah! Sister, you need not shout. I hear you loud and clear—I am not old and decrepit yet.”

“You’ve been ignoring me, lost in a world of your own. Some small discomfort is entirely justified. Where did your thoughts take you?”

“Perhaps…a mite too far from here.”

Renner was giving him a look of great pity.

“It never does to dwell on things,” she said. “Gloomy affairs take the mind to the darkest of places, but you must not allow that.”

This struck a nerve.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“I know I am… In any case, it seems like the Sacred Kingdom may well split in two, leading to a civil war—but which side do you think will win? As exhausted as the northern half is, I’m not sure I favor their chances.”

“Agreed. Too many of the north’s renowned warriors have perished. And I heard that paladin woman fell as well at one point or another.”

“I’m not familiar. Was she famous?”

“Quite. They said she was a match for our captain. I heard she paid us a visit once but, sadly, missed the chance to meet her myself.”

She had not been an officially designated dignitary, and it would never do to bump someone like that up the schedule and grant them an unplanned audience. Doing so would have undermined the crown’s authority. And while they were diplomatically stalling, she’d left the capital.

Had he known what lay ahead, Zanac would have found a way to meet with her—perhaps in the hopes that it would have laid the foundation for
something
.

“If you had not insisted that we stay the course with our foreign affairs policy, I might well have arranged an audience. Certainly, letting her see the king would have been improper, but I am merely a prince.”

“The final choice was yours, Brother,” Renner said, puffing up her cheeks. This was downright adorable and would have charmed a lesser man. Most people would be fooled by the display. “You are next in line for the throne, yet you do not enjoy universal support. To ensure your claim, you need to avoid making unnecessary enemies. We can’t afford rebellions anytime soon. That would leave you unable to fulfill your promise to me.”

“You’re not wrong.”

She was hardly hiding her own ambitions, but that lent credence to her words.

“Hmm…conventional wisdom may not apply here. If the Nation of Darkness continues to support the north, they may bend the entire kingdom to their will. Perhaps we should reach out to the south.”

An ally to the northern half of the Sacred Kingdom was a potential enemy to their southern cousins. But if the Re-Estize Kingdom stepped in, it might discourage the Nation of Darkness.

“Yes, not a bad idea. The teachings of the Faceless One are a key cause of the divide and hardly play to our interests.”

“Ugh, that woman…”

The Faceless One.

With Jaldabaoth defeated, she had founded a new religion. She had a real name, of course, but the alias was far better known.

Her sect had swollen in numbers, and her core teachings made a certain kind of sense:
It is a sin to remain weak. All must strive to be stronger.

While these beliefs were becoming more entrenched in the north by the day, they were not only unpopular in the south, they were being actively pruned. The reasons were obvious—her teachings could undermine the authority of the ruling class.

The nobility still held sway in the south, but in the north, they had already lost much of their influence. And that difference had been key to the growing rift in the Sacred Kingdom.

The sect led by this Faceless One was less a new religion than a social movement or community; they continued to worship the Four Gods, caused no sectarian conflict with established temples, and the new holy king had chosen to give them his tacit approval, allowing them to establish themselves across the north.

“…But hiding her face is inherently suspect.”

Her moniker came from the mask she wore in public.

The emissaries the Re-Estize Kingdom had dispatched held the same concerns Zanac had just voiced, and despite asking her followers about it, none had given a clear explanation. Almost like the subject itself was taboo.

And that only deepened their concerns.

Why would anyone hide their face without a compelling motive?

“Her parents were warriors of some repute, but that’s all the more reason to show her face, use their fame to help her teachings spread. Perhaps she hides her face because her lineage itself is a lie?”

“Why lie about something so unimportant? The risk doesn’t match the reward.”

“True. But what if she’s no longer human? A faceless undead?”

“—An agent of the Nation of Darkness?”

“Wouldn’t that explain a lot of things?” Zanac asked.

“It certainly would. Yet, hiding her face seems so obviously suspicious that I feel there must be some less clear cause.”

“Fair enough. But what other cause could there be? If she’d been badly scarred in the battles against Jaldabaoth’s forces, I could see it, but—magic can fix
that
. Or are scars left by those demons uncurable?”

“That theory makes far more sense to me than the other. Especially given her gender.”

Zanac felt that exposing such scars and earning herself pity would be far more advantageous, but that
would
depend on the nature of the disfigurements themselves.

“At any rate, if we wish to support the south, we need more information on the state of the Sacred Kingdom. I should order our men to investigate.”

“I think that’s best, yes.”

“To our south, half the Sacred Kingdom favors the Nation of Darkness. To our east, the Empire has become a vassal state. What a nightmare.”

“Indeed.”

Renner’s curt answer sat poorly with him, and he fixed her with a glare.

“…You don’t seem all that concerned.”

“Oh? I agree wholeheartedly. The state of our neighbors is far from ideal. And on top of everything you just mentioned, our own kingdom’s underworld interests remain just as strong.”

“The Eight Fingers? I’ve seen the reports. Too many addicts in withdrawal causing social unrest. They’re still hard at work, I assume. If that demon hadn’t shown up, we could have dealt them a serious blow.”

Zanac sighed.

Gazef Stronoff had been symbolic of the Re-Estize Kingdom’s might, and with his loss, they could not afford a direct confrontation with the Eight Fingers. They had a real shortage of individual might.

There was one exception.

One of Renner’s men, Brain Unglaus. That man had potential, yet he had pledged his allegiance to
her
and showed no interest in serving anyone else. Zanac had attempted to curry his favor without success.

He refuses to be the kingdom’s new captain. Instead, he’s searching for someone with talent, intent on training them for the position. I at least wanted to loan him our kingdom’s treasure, that sword, but my father is dead set against it.

Gazef had meant far too much to the king.

The throne was a lonely place.

The closer he got to it, the more that phrase rang true to Zanac.

To his father, Gazef Stronoff had been a campfire, the only thing that broke up the lonely darkness. Though separated by a considerable number of years, there had been a genuine bond between them, perhaps one greater than simple friendship.

Zanac envied that.

As the second prince, he’d had no such confidants. Everyone had assumed his elder brother would take the throne. Zanac was merely a backup; no one desired a strong connection with him. And they’d deemed whatever benefits that relationship might bring would be offset by the chances of turning Marquis Beauleurope against them.

The only man who’d gone against the grain was Marquis Raeven, concerned for the future of the kingdom. However, Raeven had been merely a collaborator, not a friend. Thus, Zanac found it hard not to fear his future.

A life of isolation.

He shook his head, driving these gloomy thoughts away. Renner was giving him that look again, like she’d discovered some strange new creature, but he ignored it.

When he became king, there was a decent chance he would have to order Brain to recover the kingdom’s four treasures from his father’s clutches.

He wasn’t confident Brain would obey, but if he did, they’d be his. Only that would be an adequate reward for the man’s efforts.

Brain was not the captain—merely Renner’s subordinate. He had little to no sense of loyalty to the crown and was a mere commoner—loaning the country’s treasures to a man like that could well earn the enmity of the nobility.

But he deserved nothing less.

“What if we vow to become the Nation of Darkness’s vassal?”

Renner’s sole purpose was to hole up in a little manor with Climb. She could easily do that even if the Re-Estize Kingdom were the Nation of Darkness’s client state. There was a distinct possibility that the decline of the royal family would actually make her safer, which had to be an appealing idea for her.

“Hmph.” Zanac snorted, rejecting the proposal out of hand. “That may have worked for the Empire, but if we tried the same thing, it would start a civil war.”

The Fresh Blood Emperor had made his realm a monolith. Any nobility capable of standing up to him had long since been purged, so once he declared their vassalage, there had been little resistance. And the Empire had never been the Nation of Darkness’s
victim
. They might harbor fears but bore no grudges, no resentments—only intimate knowledge of the threat at hand. The Re-Estize Kingdom was another matter.

There were four factions within the kingdom right now: the royals, the nobles, the unaligned, and the emerging faction that had been born after the war. The split was roughly 3:3:2:2.

And this new faction was the biggest headache of them all.

Why? Because they were composed entirely of people from families that had lost their first or second heirs, of people who’d lucked into power—and knew little of what passed for common sense or the unwritten rules of aristocratic society. They lacked class or education, and an even cursory examination revealed that any number of them were drunk on their newfound power.

They were a blight upon the land.

But each held sway within their own domain, and as long as they didn’t break the kingdom’s laws, Zanac could do nothing about them. Even if they did break the law, flexing royal might would provoke a response from the other factions. And the royal faction had lost much of the influence they’d held before that fateful battle.

But Renner’s idea of becoming a vassal was not without merit. If the balance of power shifted sufficiently, he would definitely have to consider it.

“A civil war?” Renner said. “I hardly think so, Brother.”

Liar
, Zanac thought. She wasn’t seriously arguing the point but absolutely wouldn’t mind if he was stupid enough to take her bait. That much was obvious.

And that’s why he could never fully trust her.

If only Elias would return.

Another surge of desperation washed over him. Marquis Raeven may not have been a friend, but their shared concerns for the future of their homeland had made him trustworthy. But that comrade would likely never return to his side. All he had left was this wild card—frighteningly talented yet impossible to control.

Shaking off his despair, he turned toward Renner, doing his best to look amused.

“I still can’t believe the Empire purchased
that
from the Nation of Darkness.”

“…What an abrupt change of subject.” Renner sighed. “Very well. But is it really that bad? They
are
a vassal, so…”

The Nation of Darkness’s most profitable export to the Empire was
undead
. Whether as manual labor, soldiers, or freight haulers, there was a wide range of uses for this…merchandise.

“They’re still the undead! The enemy of all living things!”

“But they don’t need to be fed and never tire. I cannot imagine a more ideal workforce. True, there is a risk to allowing undead under the Nation of Darkness’s control inside their borders. It’s like allowing foreign soldiers to enter your territory. But as a vassal state, it allows them to demonstrate they have nothing to hide—like putting on a collar and offering up the leash.”

Renner’s gaze turned to the ceiling.

“Perhaps we could learn something from that attitude. There are advantages to revealing a weakness, to letting a foe know they can threaten you at any time.”

“Fair. For a leader dealing with an untrusted opponent, having clear weaknesses is preferable to showing none. From that viewpoint, the Empire’s actions make sense. And E-Rantel is now trading with the dwarfs in the Azerlisia Mountains. Their undead work the mines, and they supply fresh food in return for ore and dwarven-crafted farm tools.”

Agents they’d sent into E-Rantel had heard all this from the dwarves themselves.

“They can just have their undead make the trek to and from those mountains, ignoring all the usual costs of transport and labor. Far cheaper than buying those supplies from us. And if they’ve accepted the undead labor, I think it’s safe to assume the dwarves are effectively a vassal state as well.”

“Mm.”

“—An alliance with the council state?”

“Already working on it, but…without much success. Some dragonlords have been responding positively but need time to persuade representatives from other species. And if they do not succeed, I’m told they’ll be unable to help us.”

This was partially a lie.

Attempts to establish a coalition to oppose the Nation of Darkness were proceeding at a snail’s pace but making steady progress nonetheless. It seemed like they might manage to obtain a promise of mutual defense based on goodwill and friendship, but this would be inexplicit, without clear binding language. And that was hardly an alliance anyone could boast about.

Making proper allies of them would require jumping through many more hoops and add months to the process besides.

“I see. The sooner we form a military alliance, the better. And when exactly will you be coronated? I think it’s high time you kept your promise to me.”

In return for her assistance, Zanac had promised her a manor of her own in which she and Climb could retire together.

“Hold your horses. It won’t be long. You’re perfectly aware we’ve lined up most of the cards. I’ve spoken with Father about the remaining steps. He’s got to make one last big political move.”

If this move failed, the king would take responsibility by promptly abdicating.

On the chance that it succeeded but provoked the nobility, leading to unrest—that was when the prince would propose a compromise, mollifying them, and the king’s subsequent abdication would leave those nobles solidly on his side. It might be a blot on his father’s final years of rule, but the benefits to the royal family outweighed that loss of prestige.

“But what about your own project, that orphanage? You go there and cook for them, right? Any need of further financing?”

“None. My allowance alone is covering operations.”

There were already nearly fifty orphans housed within those walls.

That was no small number. It was far more than any other orphanage in the kingdom. Yet, Renner insisted she needed no help keeping the place going and was funding it all by herself. The third princess received a pittance of an allowance, but they’d married off the older two, and some of what originally went to them must have found its way to her, making this venture possible. And she was scrimping and saving through other means, drastically reducing the number of maids in her service.

Come to think of it—he often saw her wearing clothes he’d seen before.

Part of him was vexed by this, as it was unacceptable to give the nobility any excuse to look down upon a member of the royal family, but another part of him was proud of her for knowing the value of money and how to use it most effectively.

“I can share some of my own allowance. Your orphanage is clearly a magnanimous effort.”

“Don’t,” she said, an unusual note of steel in her tone. “If there are any children of talent within the orphanage, I shall be taking them to the manor with me. I won’t tolerate any attempts to steal my workers away.”

“Ah, I supposed that makes sense.”

“It does. I have Brain teaching them basic sword skills. And we’re educating them all. They’re growing up fast.”

“What about any untalented children?”

“Anyone can learn to read and write and do basic arithmetic. Those skills should be enough for them to find employment.”

“Then you don’t mind if I take a few?”

“That would be lovely of you. I need not worry about any children left—”

There was an urgent knock on the door, interrupting her.

“—What’s all the commotion?” Zanac roared.

The door burst open. “Your Highness! Urgent news!”

A noble of the robe flew in. One of their ministers. He held a bundle of parchment in his hand.

“What is it, man?” Zanac said.

He took the bundle and read it over, a look of shock coming across his face. It made no sense—no, his brain refused to let it make sense.

“What’s wrong?” Renner asked.

Unable to muster a response, he handed her the bundle.

“Har?” And got a rare note of utter confusion from her.

Zanac allowed himself a momentary smile. Once again, she’d seemed almost human.