Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s probably quite warm outside today, isn’t it? Ainz pondered, staring out of a window and seeing heat shimmer off of roof tiles in the summer sun. 

“Lord Ainz?” Ainzach, the adventurer’s guild guild master in E-Rantel paused his speech. He was going over the details of their plan to incorporate adventurers into the Sorcerous Kingdom, but it didn’t look like his new monarch was paying attention. 

“Hm? Ah, about the ranking structure right? I don’t think there’s a need to change it.”

“Is that so? But these true adventurers, as you call them, would be exploring and interacting with new species more often than fighting, so is that really still the best measure of their competency?”

“You still need a certain amount of strength and versatility to brave new lands, Ainzach. There are also many people out there who only respect the strong. Well, if there are groups who are particularly good at adventuring even with lacking strength, I think they should ultimately still be promoted based on the level of job they can complete. Over time the strength of an adamantine adventurer might differ in the Sorcerous Kingdom compared to outside, but it should be fine.”

“If you say so, then fine,” Ainzach nodded, but he didn’t resume the presentation right away. “Excuse me, your majesty, but you seem a little distant today. Is there something troubling you?”

“Hm.” Ainz looked at the guild master and leaned back in his chair. “There’s nothing like the Empire’s coliseum in E-Rantel, is there, Ainzach?”

“Erm, no.” Sensing a full-length discussion coming, the former adventurer took a seat across from the undead king. “Since this has been the frontier for so long, combat isn’t so much a spectacle as it is a dreaded eventuality. There’s no craving for a coliseum here.”

“I see,” Ainz nodded. “I think some former conscripts may have been tempted by it if it existed, but that’s a shame.” He turned to gaze out the window again. 

“Are you thinking of building a coliseum, your majesty?”

“Hm?” Ainz looked back at the guild master, seeming almost surprised by the suggestion. “Ah, probably someday, but not yet, no. Like you said, the people here have no appetite for it.”

If he did build one, it might be interesting to set aside several death knights as gladiators. He could use it as an extension of the experiments he’d been running to see if summoned monsters were capable of self-improvement. 

“So no, it’s too soon for us to build our own. I only brought it up because—” the pinpricks of red light in Ainz’s empty orbits brightened briefly and he stopped himself. “… No, nevermind. It’s nothing.”

Ainzach lowered his chin, considering the listless air his monarch had about him. He had known the Sorcerer King for over a month now and felt like he had a solid grasp on his personality. Ainz Ooal Gown was a merciful undead, he seemed to have very little in common with the rest of his kind. Well, of course, he viewed other undead as different species from himself entirely, otherwise how could he use them so easily as tools?

Anyway, this sort of behavior was outside of the norm for the Sorcerer King. Ainzach considered himself halfway to friendship with this undead, and he respected the caster, so he reached out even though he could have just left it alone. 

“Something’s clearly bothering you, Lord Ainz. I can’t pretend to understand the challenges that come with running a country, but I can lend you an ear, at least.”

Ainz had been resting his chin lazily upon his hand all this time, but he lifted his head now. During his time as Momon, he became friends with the guild master, and he saw a bit of that same friendliness now. It brought a little warmth to his nonexistent heart. 

“Really now? I appreciate that, Ainzach.” He hesitated, “But still, it’s an undead problem. A human like you might have a difficult time understanding it. Do you still want to listen?”

Ainzach raised his brows slightly. Like his graying hair, they had some curl to them. It was hard to tell whether the ex-adventurer looked more cuddly from his afro or intimidating from his bulk. Those eyebrows settled low in contemplation, and he even stroked his chin. 

If you don’t want to, you can just say no, Ainz thought. 

But ultimately, Ainzach nodded his head. “As you said, your majesty, maybe I won’t be able to understand. If that happens, please forgive me. But I’m still willing to listen once first.”

Ainz hummed and tapped the pointed claw of his index finger repeatedly on the long wooden table they were sitting at. “… Some of my subordinates have been causing me a bit of stress lately,” he nodded, saying. “I was just wondering if there were any convenient opportunities to do a little killing to help me unwind. But the streets are already clean of criminal activity and I don’t want to steal work from the death knights who patrol outside the city.”

The guild master visibly stiffened. As a human, Ainz belatedly realized, it probably wasn’t pleasant to hear from an undead sitting across from you that they craved death. 

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Ainzach lowered his head, feeling sweat begin to bead on his forehead, “but I was under the impression that you weren’t… burdened by such urges. Outside of special circumstances, you’ve generally avoided killing.”

“Hm.” Ainz glanced down at his boney knuckles and shrugged. “Well, I am an undead, apparently. There are limited forms of pleasure available to me compared to you humans. And because I cannot sleep, my stress will simply carry over from each day to the next unless I take time out to tend to it. I believe that the living have their own value, and a kingdom in ruins would drag my name through the mud, so I certainly want to avoid pointless deaths, but it is proportionately a very quick way to unwind a little.”

Thankfully, Ainzach seemed to mostly relax again after hearing Ainz’s explanation. “I see. I was worried we might be seeing more deaths around here, but I’m glad to hear that that doesn’t seem to be the case. Indeed the concept of killing being relaxing is difficult to understand from a human perspective, but I can accept that an undead might think so. Does it matter how… sophisticated the creature that you kill is? Comparing, for instance, a human, a dragon, and an animal.” 

“Their sophistication, is it? Hm. Since I avoid pointless killing, I haven’t slaughtered any animals. Typically, simple beasts know better than to challenge me, but humans and dragons sometimes have egos too great for their capabilities. I didn’t particularly notice a difference in how enjoyable it was to kill one or the other. Though, that time on the Katze plains was quite fun for me, so quantity probably plays a role.” 

Ainzach’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of the Katze Massacre. He hadn’t been there in person, but the deaths of 170 thousand of the Re-Estiez Kingdom’s soldiers was utterly horrific for ordinary people to even hear about. To hear this person he almost called a friend, and at least thought of as a somewhat pleasant acquaintance, talk about it like some fond memory made chills travel up his spine. 

Ainz stroked his chin. “I’ll take your idea under consideration and experiment a little with killing simpler lifeforms: beasts, insects, plants… Chopping down a tree for no reason would be a little cruel, but little is inherently lost in doing so. The wood can be used for construction, and if it assists my mental health, then the benefits clearly outweigh the detriments.”

Ainzach gripped his knees and spoke from his heart. “I sincerely hope your experiments bear fruit, your majesty.”

“Thank you,” the Sorcerer king nodded his bare skull, a tinge of pleasantness in his baritone voice. 

“However, Lord Ainz, it would be better not to talk about what happened on the Katze Plains that way to other people. From a living perspective, it was an unparalleled tragedy, so you might upset them.”

Was it that bad? Ainz wondered, reflecting again on his joyous achievement, summoning the most of the goddess of dark fertility’s children probably ever in the history of that super tier spell. 

“A-ah, I didn’t realize. Thank you for telling me that, Ainzach. I’ll make an effort to be more considerate.”

The guild master took in a deep breath and his muscles relaxed. He sat back comfortably in his chair. Moments like this truly gave him hope. His new king, Ainz Ooal Gown was certainly a monster, but he was a compassionate monster who could be reasoned with. 

“Of course, your majesty. If I could, I would also suggest not repeating a mass killing on that scale, but…”

Ainz’s eyes flashed like embers. “That will, of course, depend entirely on the situation. Although I dislike meaningless killing, when there is a point to it, I intend to make that point thoroughly known. I’ll not show careless weakness and open my precious people up to attack.”

Ainzach smiled wryly. Should he be content to be one of those “precious people'' or should he pity those who were not? Being friendly acquaintances with a deadly monster brought about that sort of complicated feeling. 

The guild master folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. “Why not tell me about the source of that stress you’re feeling? If we can deal with that, wouldn’t that work better than just treating the symptoms?”

“If you think you can help, then why not?” Ainz chuckled. Then, remembering the issue that had been plaguing him for months and had only gotten worse with time, he held his head and sighed. “My subordinates want me to produce an heir, and several of them frequently fight over who should have the right to bear my child. The whole mess is becoming quite obnoxious.”

Ainzach tilted his head and made a sound of acute confusion. “R-really? A… an heir, you said?” 

Would the Sorcerer King even require an heir? He was an immortal undead who could reign forever. But first and foremost, could the Sorcerer King have an heir?

The middle-aged man placed his hands firmly on his knees and leaned forward. “Your majesty, forgive my confusion. It was my understanding that undead can’t have children. Is that not true?”

Again Ainz sighed. “Thank you for that very normal reaction, Ainzach. I was beginning to wonder if I was the one misunderstanding something about my own race. Of course I can’t have children. My body is nothing but bones, so it should be obvious, right? But I have some very fervent subordinates and they’re utterly convinced I will somehow accomplish the impossible.”

Ainzach stared at his friendly acquaintance, marveling that he had this sort of problem going on behind closed doors. They say power is attractive. He’s certainly the most powerful individual I can think of. Is that really enough to make women fight over a walking corpse?

As someone with no particular romance in his life, Ainzach was slightly jealous. But he didn’t want to ever meet the kind of power-crazy women that must be attracted to a man like Ainz Ooal Gown. 

“So… er, do they mean for you to employ a spell of some kind?”

Ainz waved dismissively. “Of all the hundreds of spells I know and the thousands of spells I’ve heard of, none of them have that sort of use. Creating a new one… I’m not even convinced it would be possible. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Ainzach scratched his head. Right. Would an undead even have a reason to know that sort of thing? Huh. In a bizarre way, the sorcerer king seemed almost pitifully innocent through Ainzach’s eyes right now. 

“Do you perhaps need information about how living creatures reproduce to use as a basis for such a spell? I mean, are you familiar with the ordinary method?”

Ainz opened his mouth to say he didn’t need to hear about that, but really… did he have any proof that humans in this world worked the same way as humans in his old world? …He didn’t, so he hesitated. 

“I’m aware of how lizardmen reproduce, but for other living creatures I admit I’m not sure.”

Ainzach cleared his throat to explain, but paused. “Er, why lizardmen specifically?” 

“… Do I have to answer that?”

“No, I suppose not.” Again, he cleared his throat and explained human reproduction in simple terms. It was the same as what Ainz knew, thankfully. But Ainzach also mentioned that children between different humanoid parents, such as a half elf or a half dwarf, had slightly different gestation periods compared to pure humans.

Anyway, the conversation was very clinical, but Ainz was still glad he didn’t have any facial expressions that would give away his awkward feeling. 

“Well… I could say it’s interesting, I suppose?” He folded his arms and couldn’t manage to completely put his poker face back up.

Ainzach felt comfortable enough to chuckle at Ainz’s expense. His visible awkwardness was refreshing and brought forth a bit of a friendly sadistic urge to tease him. He kept in mind that this person was the king of his country, though, and didn’t go too far. 

“More interesting than lizardmen?”

Ainz held his fist to his teeth and made a throat-clearing noise. “Anyway, thank you for explaining all that to me. It would have been… difficult to ask about it myself.”

“Haha, that’s fine. Would you mind if I asked a little in exchange?”

“Oh?” Ainz tipped his head at Ainzach who had been keeping a friendly but safe distance so far. “If there’s something you’re curious about, go ahead.”

“What is it like for undead when they’re… born, for lack of a better word. Actually, in the first place, Lord Ainz, are you a natural undead or did you used to belong to a living race?”

It wasn’t actually one question but many. Ainz took a moment to gather his thoughts while scratching his chin. “Let’s see. Particularly low-ranking undead are mindless, so their experience… can be brushed aside. When I create higher-tier undead, or lower-tier but intelligent undead, such as Elder Liches, they simply come into being. They don’t seem to experience any confusion since they’re born imprinted with loyalty to me and enough of my basic knowledge to get by.”

“Elder Liches are considered low tier?!” Ainzach quickly composed himself. “Ah, pardon me. I suppose a third level caster truly doesn’t hold a candle to one such as yourself.”

Ainz exhaled through his nose. “They’re among the strongest low-tier undead, if that makes you feel better.”

Ainzach smiled wryly. 

“Where was I? Ah, myself, right?” 

Ainz drummed his boney fingers tips on the tabletop. To Ainzach, it looked like he was deciding whether or not to share that information, but really, Ainz was thinking about what he could say that wouldn’t contradict the story he had constructed of Ainz Ooal Gown so far. 

Considering I often play the angle of knowing little about humans, I can’t claim to have been one now. At the same time, I sometimes reminisce about things I can’t enjoy anymore, like food. In case I slip and mention that sometime, I should say I used to be alive. 

Alive but not formerly human, huh? Should I say I was a Lizardman? No, I don’t have a tail, and my skull is the wrong shape. Besides, I don’t know all that much about lizardmen either, and if word ever got to the lizardman village Cocytus is ruling that I said such a thing…

The story is that The Great Tomb of Nazarick was buried for countless years before revealing itself and reclaiming this territory, so saying I was a member of a long extinct race similar to humans should be fine. 

“If it’s something you can’t talk about…” Ainzach politely gave Ainz an out since he was taking a while to decide. 

“Hm. No, it’s fine, Ainzach. I trust you enough to tell you a little about my past.”

“Oh. Thank you, your majesty,” the guild master nodded seriously and sat in an attentive listener’s posture. 

Ainz nodded in return and sat comfortably in his chair. “It was a very long time ago, but I was once a living being. The race I was originally born to was similar to you humans, but with a very different culture. They used to live in this region, but from what I’ve seen after coming out of my long seclusion, they seem to have gone extinct. Considering you humans must’ve arrived afterwards, I wasn’t surprised to hear that your history books didn’t mention my claim to this land. Perhaps yet another race once claimed this place in between the extinction of my people and your own kingdoms. I was underground for… a very long time.”

“O-oh… I see.” Ainzach nodded. “That’s very interesting, Lord Ainz, and I’m sorry to hear your species is gone. I assume the race you came from was, well, larger than humans?”

“Hm?” Ainz tipped his head. Then he recalled that his avatar was six and a half feet tall and that the average human man was only about five and a half feet tall in this world. The women were of course even shorter. 

“That isn’t something I’d bothered to think about, but yes, I suppose they were.”

Deep down, Ainz began to wonder about this ancient race of tall human-like creatures he had created and killed off in one breath. 

Ainzach blinked. “I just realized we’ve ended up far off topic. I was supposed to be helping you think of something to do about those subordinates who are troubling you. I imagine it’ll take a while to develop that new spell. That said, you can’t just stay stressed in the meantime.”

Ainz nodded. “If you really can think of something that could calm things down a little, I would certainly owe you a favor.”

The guild master smiled lopsidedly. “That’s a dangerously tempting offer, your majesty. In that case, please just return the favor if I end up in trouble I can’t solve myself.”

The retired adventurer stroked his chin and peered up at the ceiling. “Hm. It’s not a true solution, but wouldn’t things quiet down if you chose someone between the people competing for your affection?”

“I see. That makes sense, but…”

“You have no interest in any of them? Oh. I suppose an undead wouldn’t have any interest in romance at all.”

“It’s more the former,” Ainz sighed. “There are two particularly fierce contenders. Both of them have been very forthcoming about wanting a physical relationship with me, which is already a problem from my perspective. They’re also both the daughters of my long departed friends, which makes it that much more complicated. Even aside from that, one of them has the appearance of a child, which bothers me a bit. The other has had so little control over her desires that she’s tried to assault me in the past.”

“That’s quite the mess,” Ainzach blinked. “It might be better if you chose someone else and put both of them in their place.”

“Someone else, Hm?” Ainz searched the ceiling as if the answers he needed were up there. “I hate to say it, but most of my female subordinates have problems. The others, well, there’s nothing wrong with them, but that just makes me feel worse about tying them down to a bag of bones like me.”

“So you prefer women, Lord Ainz?” Ainzach checked. 

Ainz almost said yes, but was that fair when his current undead body felt no attraction to anyone? 

“Well, I used to? Back when I was alive, I was strictly heterosexual. Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, since I don’t plan on having a physical relationship with them.”

Ainzach nodded. “To me, it sounds like you need a partner who can help you rule the country, keep the woman clawing after you quiet, and who you can have an emotional and intellectual relationship with.”

Ainz found himself nodding along. “I see! That sounds perfect, actually.”

Ainzach smiled and held up a finger. “In that case, you don’t need to limit yourself by appearance or gender. Personality should be paramount.”

Ainz folded his arms and shook his head. “You say that, but even in my opinion there are some heteromorphic races that are really hard to look at.”

“Is that so? You must’ve seen creatures I can only imagine, Lord Ainz. But whoever you pick, considering they already have an undead for a king, the people should be able to accept it eventually. 

Ainz tilted his head. That was encouragement, right? I feel like I was insulted, though. 

“Between choosing someone within the country and someone from outside, which would you prefer?” Ainzach continued. 

“Now that’s a difficult question,” Ainz sighed. “Nazarick was a closed environment for a long, long time, so I knew the parents of every one of my subordinates. But they’re by far the most capable and the most respectful of me. If I look elsewhere for a partner, not only would I have to worry about keeping them safe, but it would be hard just to find someone willing to marry an undead overlord.”

“So both have pros and cons?” Ainzach clasped his hands and nodded. “In that case, let’s focus on candidates from outside the Sorcerous Kingdom. In my opinion, that should be of more help to the country’s image.”

“That makes sense,” Ainz nodded, though he still had mixed feelings about it. 

Ainzach raised a hand as if he was somehow going to guid the conversation with it. “Well, is there anybody outside of this kingdom you’ve had your eyes on? Someone who you have a good relationship with or who could help you with your work?”

Ainzach was careful to emphasize that Ainz should pick people from outside the Sorcerous Kingdom. Given the short time that he had been in power here and how most people viewed the undead, the guild master was a little worried that he might end up on the list otherwise. He preferred to avoid having to turn the Sorcerer King down, just in case. 

“The first person who comes to mind is Jircniv.” Ainz hummed.

Hearing that, Ainzach blinked. “Your majesty, are you referring to the Bloody Emperor? You two are on a first name basis?”

“Of course. We’re friends,” Ainz chuckled. He stroked his chin, considering it.

I was a little annoyed when he decided to become my vassal out of nowhere, since I wanted to bond with him over king stuff. Maybe we could go back to that? There’s nothing strange about a ruler marrying his vassal, is there?

“I see,” Ainzach gaped. “Well, if you’re already close, then that should make things easier. The Emperor is also famous for being quite skilled at governing. Marrying a living human should also help improve your public image. What do you think about it?” 

“I wonder. It would be a shame if this put a strain on our friendship, but he must have been prepared for an arranged marriage someday. Marrying a friend shouldn’t be so bad. I’m sure he would make for a capable consort.”

Would he really be willing to marry me? I’m sure there’s more that goes on behind the scenes for this sort of thing… What if he asked to take a lover? I should allow it, right? I can’t ask a healthy young man to stay celibate for life just because he married an undead. But then, would his child have a claim to the Sorcerous Kingdom?

“Something wrong?” Ainzach asked. 

“No,” Ainz replied, shelving the topic to discuss with Albedo and Demiurge later. “I’ll try out your suggestion. Wish me luck.”

“I hope everything goes smoothly, your highness. Shall we get back to talking about the adjustments to the guild structure now?”

“Yes, let’s. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

“That’s fine, you’re much busier than I am.” 

Ainzach stood up and went back to the board he was presenting from. They agreed on several little changes here and there and vetoed others, and when that was done Ainz returned to Nazarick with a new scheme hatching in his brain.

Chapter Text

The halls of the ninth floor of Nazarick were akin to a paradise on earth. Gilded marble floors and columns framed carpets so soft and thick you would sink into them a little with each step, and yet they were spotlessly clean. Over a hundred maids were scouring this and the tenth floor constantly for any imperfection to correct. 

Having been summoned to this floor, a demon in a crisp cinebar suit walked with measured paces, his long carapaced tail swaying above the floor at just the right angle. 

He arrived in front of the supreme one’s office and was soon allowed inside by the maid on duty that day. There, two of the highest ranking figures in the Great Tomb were waiting for him. 

Most importantly was Demiurge’s master, the last remaining supreme being, Ainz Ooal Gown. He wasn’t dressed in his usual god-tier robes, that velvet black curtain that always looked so right upon the being who represented absolute death. No, instead he was wearing another expensive and elegant robe that the maids must have picked out, which implied he had been doing his duties as the Sorcerer King before coming here. 

Perhaps some matter in the kingdom they had recently founded required his attention? If that was the case…

Demiurge adjusted his glasses and peered at the other figure in the room, the one who should have been managing things with the Sorcerous Kingdom. 

She was like an Angel of pure white, descended from the heavens to tempt man, and then dipped hair and feathers in black ink. As always, a tender, warm smile graced her porcelain-perfect face as she stood at their master’s side. She was the Guardian Overseer, Albedo. 

Demiurge took his attention away from his fellow demon and bowed elegantly toward Ainz with a smile and a graceful turn of his arm. 

Ainz spoke first, as was only natural. “I’m glad you made it back safely Demiurge. Once again, I apologize for taking you away from your ongoing mission outside of Nazarick.”

“Not at all, Lord Ainz. If you call for me then it’s my duty as a guardian to come as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you, Demiurge. You may raise your head.”

The Archdevil straightened his back but kept his hand politely placed upon his chest. “How may I be of service, Lord Ainz?”

“Mm,” Ainz nodded once, and his low hum immediately cemented a solemn air throughout the room. This was the effortless charisma of a supreme being, always thrilling to witness. “I called the both of you here today to discuss an important matter.” Ainz paused momentarily to look sidelong at Albedo who smiled and politely bowed her head. “Albedo, this might be hard for you to hear, but I hope you’ll consider my intentions carefully.”

The smile left Albedo’s face as her delicate lips parted and her wet eyes blinked in confusion. “Pardon? Of course, Lord Ainz. It’s an undeserved blessing to have you worry about my feelings.” She punctuated her statement with a bow no less graceful than Demiurge’s. 

Demiurge pushed his glasses up his nose, already considering what might be going on here. Perhaps Albedo made a mistake when governing E-Rantel and only some drastic action could get things back on track? In his ever abundant kindness, was Lord Ainz giving Albedo a chance to participate in rectifying her mistake?

But what mistake could she have made? The seventh floor’s guardian wasn’t exactly aware of every minute detail Albedo was handling, but the plan itself as he understood it wasn’t too difficult to accomplish. Someone with Albedo’s abilities and passion should have handled everything perfectly. 

Unless—his tail momentarily went rigid and stopped its swaying—something in their plan had been flawed from the start? 

The archdevil adjusted his glasses, catching them on the light. 

It wasn’t impossible for that to be the case. As the last remaining supreme being, once the leader of all forty-one of them, Ainz was endlessly wise and benevolent. Lately, he seemed as busy with nurturing the NPCs as he was with conquering the world, as if they were of equal importance to him. For that purpose, he often pushed and tested them all. 

It was easy to see when he was doing so for the simpler denizens of Nazarick, but Demiurge and Albedo were often regarded as the brightest minds in the Tomb. It took a great deal more to test them. So it wasn’t impossible at all that Ainz had deliberately let a flaw slip through their planning process, waiting to see if they would catch it on their own. 

He must have given them as much time to do so as possible, but now they were facing the point of no return, where catastrophic error would ripple out from the imperfection and Ainz would have no choice but to take action himself. 

Demiurge felt cold sweat on his back. Albedo was likely the main person responsible, but he had a hand in this as well. This was as much a warning to him as it was to her. 

And it might also be a generous hint that he still had holes in his own plans he hadn’t patched yet. 

“Forgive us, Lord Ainz,” the demon bowed his head. “Since this seems to be an urgent matter, could you please fill us in on what the problem seems to be?”

His master’s smooth baritone voice echoed out, “It’s about Jircniv.”

The Archdevil’s gaze sharpened behind his glasses. That wasn’t an answer, but a hint, surely; one last chance to put the pieces together on his own. If it was meant to be an answer, then Demiurge could only hang his hat in defeat, since he couldn’t pick out the “obvious” meaning from the thousands of possibilities. 

Occasionally, Ainz was like that too: trusting in the intelligence of his creations a little too much; standing a little too far above their capabilities and leaving them to struggle through “basic” problems alone. 

Demiurge truly wondered when he would be able to see the world as the supreme one did. But he put his money on the reply being a hint, for now, and not an answer. 

He put his infernal mind to work, as Albedo was surely doing as well. The guardian overseer was the first to speak up, however. 

Indeed, it was her planning and pride that was most at stake. She must have been pushing herself hard to come up with a solution. 

“Not a problem with the Empire or its vassalization process, but with that human emperor himself?” she clarified. “Lord Ainz, our ambassadors in the Empire are keeping a close eye on him to ensure he can’t do any harm to the Sorcerous Kingdom. He knows he’s being watched so he’s being careful. He hasn’t so much as visited the temples.”

Fortunately for Demiurge, the legwork that the succubus had already done sparked his own creative thinking. 

“Ah, so that’s what it was. It’s incredibly subtle, but as expected of you, Lord Ainz, nothing slips past your notice.”

As the pieces fell into place, Demiurge fixed his glasses higher up his nose while enjoying a feeling of catharsis. 

Albedo looked at him with competitive spirit burning brightly in her eyes. She was clearly in a hurry to figure it out for herself. Meanwhile, their master’s voice echoed low and mysterious. 

“… Oh? You’ve realized something, Demiurge?”

“Yes. A more sly form of sabotage than I ever anticipated,” he nodded, showing a rather impressed smile. “I didn’t expect the Emperor could be so self-sacrificing… I would expect this sort of thing from King Ramposa, however.”

“Of course!” Albedo suddenly spread her wings a little wider in awe. “He plans to make it look like the Sorcerous Kingdom is sucking the life out of the Empire! Without the option to vassalize other nations, it will be almost impossible to rule the kind of prosperous kingdom Lord Ainz desires.”

Ainz examined both of them from behind his laced fingers. He took in their proud, excited faces and hummed, leaning back in his chair. “… Very impressive, both of you. I thought you might not notice it.”

“Forgive us,” Albedo said sorrowfully, “we almost didn’t.”

“Mm,” Ainz nodded. 

“If I might be so insolent,” Demiurge placed a hand to his chest and implored, “I’d like to know what solution you’ve prepared for this issue, Lord Ainz. I’m sure you saw this coming well in advance.”

“A-ah, of course. My solution.” He cleared his throat. “You haven’t deduced it already?”

Demiurge shook his head. “I have a few ideas.”

“As do I,” Albedo cut in. 

“But this situation is quite sinister, and our methods are sure to be imperfect. So please, Lord Ainz.”

***

Ainz was in an extremely bad situation at the moment. The worst, really. This was supposed to be a simple yet somewhat difficult announcement of his intention to marry, and then a request for advice on how to go about it as the king of a nation. Instead, somehow, mentioning Jircniv’s name had made Albedo and Demiurge notice a terrible “flaw” in their mysterious plan. Now, without having had that flaw—or the plan, for that matter—explained to him, he was expected to produce a flawless solution. 

And this was apparently a very serious matter, to boot. 

Given that he had no idea what they were even talking about at this point, all he could think to do was divert back to his original topic as if that was the answer. As long as he used tricky phrasing, he could excuse himself later “no, I was just mentioning something else before we divert all our attention to this important problem.” Like that. At least it would buy him time to think and probe for answers. 

“I see,” Ainz nodded slowly. “Well then… Incidentally, I’m planning on asking Jircniv to marry me.”

The two floor guardians stared at him. Demiurge’s eyes slowly widened, his glasses glittering in the light of the room and of sudden, inexplicable admiration. 

To the other side, Albedo’s mouth slowly dropped open as a mixture of incomprehension and despair coated her expression. She clutched the skirt of her white gown feverishly and whispered. “My Lord, may I be allowed to step outside for a moment?”

Ainz nodded, having no idea what to say to soothe the succubus at this point. She loved him, after all. Even though she had been manipulated into feeling that way by her programming. 

Albedo excused herself, taking short and slow steps as she departed his office. Demiurge, instead, turned to face Ainz, gesturing in absolute elation. 

“Lord Ainz, that’s brilliant! Given the inferior nature of those outside Nazarick, I wouldn’t have dared to ever suggest such a strategy.” He pushed up his glasses, “I was short sighted. Thank you for opening my eyes, Lord Ainz. If even a supreme being such as yourself is willing to set aside his pride to secure the best result, then my plans indeed still have room for improvement.”

What?! That was really the answer?! To what problem?! Ainz used all of his willpower to resist clutching his head in confusion. 

“I’m glad you understand, Demiurge,” he said instead, and was graced with a sudden epiphany. “However, this matter was a blind spot for you and Albedo, so I need to confirm that we’re truly on the same page now. Please tell me what you’ve understood— in detail .”

“Yes, Lord Ainz,” the demon saluted brightly. “The nature of the Emperor’s plan can be understood as soon as one asks the question: what would happen if he died?”

Ainz nodded to show he was paying attention. What would happen? Ah, he doesn’t have an heir yet, does he? So, wait, who would take over the Empire then?

Demiurge continued, “Of course, the Emperor currently has no heir and no relatives. The noble houses are also weak and divided thanks to his centralization policies. So there’s no power within the Empire that could take over for him if he were to die suddenly. As the Empire is our vassal nation, we would have two options in that situation.” 

The demon held up a finger. “We could leave them to sort out their own issues, resulting in a weakened Empire and damaging the Sorcerous Kingdom’s prestige.” 

As Demiurge raised a second finger, a terrible screeching cry reached Ainz’s office, followed by a loud crashing noise. Ainz glanced worriedly at the door, but the Archdevil paid it no mind, continuing without missing a beat. 

“Or we could take them over. This would result in a stronger vassal nation capable of supporting us, but it would put our motives into question.”

Demiurge clasped his hands behind his back and stood proudly. “No matter which option we pick, becoming our vassal nation would look much less appealing to the surrounding nations.”

Seeing that his subordinate was now quietly waiting for praise, Ainz began to panic. He’d grasped that this was an important issue now, but he still lacked a detailed explanation of the when and how. 

For instance, was the Theocracy going to try to assassinate Jircniv? How exactly was Jircniv supposed to die to initiate this sequence of events?

With a darkly looming expression, Ainz stared at the tomb’s head military strategist. “That isn’t everything, is it? This is an important issue, Demiurge; I want to hear every detail.”

The proud smile abruptly fell from Demiurge’s face as his tail lowered a fraction. He quickly opened his mouth to continue, but Albedo burst back in at that moment and spoke before he could. 

“The emperor likely feels cornered. He originally wanted to gather an alliance of humans to quietly oppose us while searching for a way to turn us guardians against you, Lord Ainz, but he must have realized that both options are impossible,” she declared, looking not a bit disheveled or agitated. “The fact that he’s become our vassal now doesn’t mean he’s given up on opposing us, however. If outside forces cannot stop us and our internal forces are too loyal to be manipulated, the only remaining option is to infiltrate us and cause internal problems himself.”

Albedo strode proudly back to her position at Ainz’s side. 

“And he had to be the first one to do so, too. The worst situation from his perspective would be if other nations also capitulate to us—genuinely. If all resistance toward your rule, Lord Ainz, vanished, it would be humanity’s defeat. But when opposing you means death, the only way he could think of to convince people not to bend the knee was to make vassalization appear just as threatening.” 

The demoness smiled warmly toward the master of the tomb. “He surely intends to either end his own life or fake his death somehow. Considering our alliance has rendered him unable to make contact with the temples who diametrically oppose undead, and considering it’s the temples that usually treat illnesses in the Empire, I suspect he intends to contract or fake a fatal illness and quietly succumb to it.”

Demiurge’s coy smile returned. “Perishing mysteriously and leaving the Empire either weakened or completely in our grasp would cause paranoid lesser beings to point their fingers at Lord Ainz. No nation would ever again surrender itself to us without a fight: its leaders would all fear being slowly drained of their lifeforce by an undead king.” He slid his glasses further up his nose. “The emperor thinks he’s using us by becoming our first vassal and scheming to undermine us from within, but he doesn’t realize Lord Ainz predicted his intentions completely.”

Albedo smiled a very polite and docile smile. “Marrying Emperor Jircniv to Lord Ainz gives us the opportunity to be attentive to his well-being, put a more controllable man at the head of our vassal state, and show the surrounding nations that reward awaits our vassal rulers, rather than punishment. Of course, it will be a marriage in name only.”

Ainz sat at his desk, engulfed in quiet contemplation. Has Jircniv betrayed me? Is he conspiring against me? He shook his head slightly. No, we’re good friends; fellow rulers. He wouldn’t do that. Besides, this whole conversation started because they thought I noticed something off about Jircniv. 

Of course, he didn’t notice any such thing. And the reason Albedo and Demiurge didn’t notice anything before now either was because there wasn’t anything to notice. Surely. 

Ainz similarly didn’t notice that the two demons momentarily tense when they saw him shake his head slightly in thought.

“It would seem we’ve come to different conclusions,” he finally said. 

The two demons flinched in shock and wore serious, attentive faces as they scrutinized his every word and motion. Because he found it hard to face them like that, Ainz pushed back his chair and stood up, turning to face the back wall and clasping his hands austerely behind him. 

“I don’t think Jircniv would deliberately betray me. However…” Ainz couldn’t help but acknowledge the reasoning of the two brightest minds in Nazarick, “intentions aside, if Jircniv did die of an illness simply because his alliance with me prevented him from visiting a temple, that would reflect poorly on me.”

Albedo bit her lower lip and some of her carefully constructed image of calmness disappeared, replaced by worry. “Forgive me, Lord Ainz, but if the emperor hasn’t betrayed us, then we can ensure his health by sending over a healer or some potions! Why do you need to go as far as marrying him?”

Demiurge adjusted his glasses with a contemplative frown. “I understand keeping the emperor as close as we can if we suspect his loyalty. But if he’s loyal then there’s no need for you to watch over him personally, is there?”

Still facing the wall, Ainz hummed, buying time for himself to figure out what to say. “There are several reasons,” he stalled, feeling curious demonic eyes boring into the back of his skull. 

He wracked his average mind desperately, trying to come up with something. 

“Marrying a local would help our relationship with them, for one,” he said, recalling how Ainzach mentioned improving his public image. “Pushing all human relation issues onto Momon… Hm, as expected, that isn’t good. There should be someone more directly affiliated with the country who people can feel respects them.”

“I see…” Demiurge murmured. 

Ainz cleared his throat. “Anyway, there are many reasons, but I’ll only reveal one more to you. I’d like you to try and realize the others on your own.”

“Understood, Lord Ainz!” 

Demiurge saluted and boldly accepted his master’s challenge. Meanwhile, the tongue-tied Albedo nodded stiffly. 

Ainz allowed a wave of calm to flow over him and then coldly delivered his opinion: the real reason for all this mess. “Albedo, I would like for you and Shalltear to stop fighting over my affection for a while. I’d prefer things to be a little more peaceful around here.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his words hit the succubus like a bolt of lightning. She abruptly lowered herself to her hands and knees, pressing her wings tightly to her sides in an attempt to hide her fluffed feathers. 

She made no similar attempt to hide the tears in her eyes. 

“Lord Ainz, I have displeased you, then please punish me! I have committed a terrible sin.”

“Don’t you get it, Albedo?” Demiurge said from the side, his spectacles glinting mysteriously as he pushed them further up his nose. “This is your punishment.”

“Please, Lord Ainz,” she whimpered, lowering her head further, “anything else.”

Pity swelled in the overlord’s heart, as well as guilt and shame. He didn’t enjoy seeing Albedo suffer, especially because he was the root cause of her pain. But NPCs like Cocytus had already proven that they could grow and change beyond the extent of their programming. It would be better for Albedo if she moved on. 

Ainz turned and approached the supplicating demon and got down on one knee, placing a skeletal hand atop her head. She peeked up at him with a hint of hope in her misty yellow eyes. 

Ainz opened his mouth slightly, closed it, and sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s been decided.”

Albedo’s lips quivered and she let her head droop down again. “… Lord Ainz, would it be acceptable if I took the rest of the day off?”

“Mm, that’s fine. Please stay healthy, Albedo.”

“Thank you,” she said, and quietly staggered out of the room. 

Ainz stood back up and returned to his desk chair. “Now then, Demiurge,” he said, “how does one make a marriage offer to the leader of their vassal nation?”

“Typically it would begin with an exchange of letters and gifts,” the demon replied collectedly.

“I see,” Ainz nodded, and began issuing orders to the nearest maid. “What else?”

Chapter Text

It was another quiet and peaceful day in the Baharuth Empire. Its young monarch, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, was enjoying a stroll through the gardens. He fit right in with the rest of the flowers; young and beautiful, with hair like the sun and eyes like violets. 

His workload had been greatly reduced ever since his nation became a vassal state to the Sorcerous Kingdom. If it was like before, he never would have had time to relax like this. 

An entire dynasty used to rest solely on his shoulders. 

There was something charming about those old days, though. Back then, his biggest problems were rogue nobles and assassination attempts. For a passionate and talented youth like him, carrying the empire to greatness was a doable and worthy task to spend his life on. 

At least, it was a far cry from the stress of the time when the future of humanity itself seemed to fall on his shoulders. He was still recovering from the stomach ulcers and hair thinning the pressure of matching wits against Ainz Ooal Gown had wrought on him. 

Life under the undead king’s thumb was like a dream in comparison. 

He took his sweet time walking around the palace grounds, accompanied by two of his three remaining Imperial Knights: Baziwood Peshmel and Nimble Arc Dale Anoch.

“You look like you’re in a good mood today, your majesty,” Baziwood carelessly expressed his opinion, interrupting the peaceful quiet. 

Jircniv didn’t condemn him. He was, in fact, in a good mood, and the man known as Lightning Bolt had always been the brash and forward type. His mannerisms could, on occasion, be a breath of fresh air amidst stuffy imperial politics.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” The young emperor gently closed his clear amethyst eyes, a quaint smile playing at his lips. “The Empire is alive and at peace, and the weather is excellent.”

“True,” the bulky knight grinned. “This kind of scene isn’t exactly what I expected back when you asked the Sorcerer King to make the Empire a vassal nation. I thought I’d be seeing an imperial palace full of corpses again, only this time they’d be moving.”

Jircniv’s smile faded and he carefully admonished his personal guard’s carelessness. “Lord Ainz Ooal Gown is a wise and patient man. He wouldn’t instigate a massacre for no reason, but it’s up to us to not give him a reason. Understood?”

“Oh, of course,” Baziwood straightened his back and wiped the brash smile off his face.

“A palace full of corpses, huh?” the other knight, Nimble, murmured, a dark and wistful look on his face. “It would be easy for a caster as powerful as Lord Gown.”

Emperor Jircniv released a faint sigh through his nose and turned his feet toward the garden’s exit. “I’ve cleared my head enough. Let’s go back to my work.”

“Yes, your majesty,” his knights called out in unison.

Back in his office, an opulent but comfortable and tasteful room, a pile of documents was waiting for Jircniv. The phrase “a pile” might make it sound like a frightening quantity, but it was entirely manageable. It was an amount that could be completed before the day was out and still leave enough time for a pleasant dinner and some relaxation before bed. 

The young monarch made his way to a one-armed lounge chair, reclined comfortably upon it, and began to read documents as his stewards, secretaries, and paiges passed them along to him. Most of the issues weren’t too difficult to handle, especially because his answers were predetermined. Not literally, but he had to ensure no harm came to the Sorcerous Kingdom as a result of his decisions. Having a clear guidepost made everything simpler.

Emperor Jircniv quickly made decisions, presented his words for a scribe to jot down, and moved on to the next topic.

Soon, a letter was passed to him. It bore the seal of the Sorcerous Kingdom, but so many of the documents gathered did. Still, the envalope this time was especially high class, satin black and embroidered with elegant abstract patterns made with gold leaf. He cut the envelope open with a decorative blade and carefully read the contents of the missive inside.

[Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix,

I hope this letter finds you well. You are cordially invited to dinner in the Sorcerous Kingdom in order to discuss the possibility of a political marriage between your great nation and ours…]

Just a few words in, and it was as if the world around him had ceased to exist. Except for the letter clutched in his hands, everything else seemed to fade away into cold, clammy darkness. 

Heart palpitating and hands shaking, Jircniv’s eyes reached the end of the letter and started again from the top, rereading everything in a frenzy. He examined the envelope it came in, inspecting the wax seal for any indication that it was fraudulent. When he found nothing out of order, the voice of a secretary brought light and sound back to the world. 

“Your imperial majesty? Is something wrong?”

The emperor’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes darted briefly to the startled secretary’s face. He looked back down at the letter, and a dismayed grimace twisted his lips. 

“Surely it’s impossible…” Jircniv ran a hand through his sun-blonde hair, tugging at the roots of freshly-sprouted locks with heedless violence. With a dry tongue, he barely managed to utter a few more words in front of his anxious attendants. “I must be overthinking it, right?!”

A secretary could no longer hold back his worry and asked his liege directly. “What was in the letter?”

Jircniv slumped back in his seat, holding a hand over his eyes, which he feared carried the mad light of frenzy in them. “... It is a marriage proposal from the Sorcerous Kingdom,” his voice carried little of the royal gravitas it should’ve had, “to ‘strengthen the bond between the Kingdom and the Empire, and the bond between humans and heteromorphs,’ it says.”

This revelation quickly sent the emperor’s personal office into a riot. Ordinarily polite and docile public servants couldn’t hold in their voices of shock, and the emperor’s knights were no better.

“Marriage?!” Baziwood gasped. “With who?!”

“It doesn’t say,” Jircniv explained numbly. “It merely suggests we have a meeting to discuss the matter further. But it’s unlikely those monsters are happy to have a lowly human joining their ranks, so I doubt they’ll settle for any less than me myself, if only for my position. I’m the only person invited by name, anyway.”

Nimble gritted his teeth and hung his head, clenching his fists. “This peace was too good to be true.”

Baziwood wasn’t done with his questions yet. He spoke with his armored hands gesticulating adamantly. “Who exactly do they plan to have you marry?!”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Jircniv didn’t even have the energy left to sigh. He felt completely emotionally drained, like a man waiting for death. “Whoever it is, they will be a monster beyond imagining. If I had to guess… perhaps Prime Minister Albedo.”

“Ah, that demon beauty.” Baziwood calmed down slightly. “Isn’t that bearable? She’s a succubus, so you might at least have a little fun.”

“Right, she’s a succubus,” Jircniv snorted faintly. “Not a particularly kind or faithful species. For all I know, I’ll just be one part of her demonic harem. They might be planning to marry countless powerful men to her in order to control them more thoroughly. Forget having fun, I’ll be lucky if my soul isn’t stolen from my body on our wedding night.”

A dour mood settled over the air once the initial shock had faded away and the reality of their situation sank in. Emperor Jircniv took a long, deep breath, and announced, “I’ve been invited to a banquet in three days to discuss this with them. Make the necessary preparations.”

The public servants scattered to do their jobs while Jircniv himself focused solely on containing his emotional state. 

So I can’t get off this easily after all… I had some hopes.

***

Once again, Jircniv was surrounded by luxury his own Empire could scarcely compare with. The building itself was nothing all that impressive: merely the repurposed house of the mayor who once oversaw E-Rantel. But the decor, the staff, the spotless cleaning that had been performed over every inch of every surface? Those were unmatched. It was like a piece of the fruit of heaven–or perhaps the devilish fruit of Nazarick–had been transplanted into an ordinary peel. 

Jircniv had the advantage of having been exposed to the true Tomb of Nazarick once before. Calling that divine palace a tomb still seemed a gross misnomer to him. The luxury contained within would drive kings, emperors… possibly even dragons and gods mad. This, here, was less difficult to withstand. 

Though, around every corner was a beautiful maid, bowing with a gentle smile; upon every wall, an artwork of incalculable worth and good taste; and most dangerous of all, the banquet itself. 

The quality of the food was enough to even make Jircniv relax in bliss, despite sitting mere feet away from death itself in all his grim glory. The undead king, of course, was not eating. But even his unbreaking gaze made of cold red fire couldn’t ruin a meal this divine.

It was difficult to find pleasure in ordinary beverages after being treated to that strange citrus juice last time, Jircniv recalled, utterly at peace despite knowing his situation. Perhaps ordinary food will taste like ash now. But it might still be worthwhile to have tasted it.

“Was the meal to your liking?”

Jircniv turned his head slightly and smiled—almost from his heart—at the Sorcerer King. 

“Yes, the labor of my own chefs can’t compare,” he said. 

Honestly, even the remnants of my ulcers stayed quiet while I was eating, and now I’m welling up with power. Could this food be magical in a literal sense? While pondering that, Jircniv cast a slightly curious glance at the undead seated at the head of the table, next to him. 

Ainz was wearing the same unfathomable robes he had been upon their first meeting. They were a shade of black that seemed to absorb all light, and they had a certain gravitas to them, like there was immense power within. Indeed, there was no chance they weren’t enchanted. 

Those robes were open at the front, exposing a snow white ribcage and a mysterious red orb within. It was as though the Sorcerer King was declaring proudly that he wasn’t wearing a mask, that he was an undead, through and through. 

And to put that orb, which seemed like all too obvious of a weak point, plainly in sight, was such a show of well-earned arrogance. 

Or possibly, it could be a trap. 

How much power did he obtain by becoming an undead that it was worth forever giving up the taste of food and drink this divine? Or did he naturally spawn as an undead from the beginning? Either way, Ainz Ooal Gown has all the pleasures of the world at his fingertips and he doesn’t even bat an eye. 

The greatest men had the greatest discipline, it seemed. Jircniv found himself lacking in comparison. It would be difficult for him to choose between living in peerless luxury like this every day until he died or having eternal power on par with Ainz Ooal Gown. Not that he had the luxury of such a choice in the first place.

“Now then, shall we talk?”

Jircniv heard the undead king’s deep and commanding voice and promptly put down his silverware, which he was subconsciously clutching in hopes of another course. 

“Yes, of course, Lord Ainz.” The emperor’s mask of loyal pleasantness, admirably, refused to budge. “The letter you sent mentioned a political marriage between our nations. The parties being considered weren’t mentioned, but am I correct to assume that I’m one of them?”

“So you realized,” Ainz Ooal Gown nodded regally, “Certainly, it could be inferred from the limited guest list forwarded to you.”

A final, hidden fragment of hope in Jircniv’s heart shriveled and died. “No, it’s nothing worth praising, Lord Ainz,” he said softly, trying hard not to let the misery show on his face. 

Demons were proud beings, so although Jircniv was all but certain who his partner would be, he didn’t share his theory aloud. There could very well be punishment for his presumptuousness. And there was a chance he was wrong. There was a chance he would be wed to a much lower-ranking, much more manageable monster.

Though, Jircniv suddenly realized, if that were true, wouldn’t they be in attendance?  

The overlord’s comment about the guest list caused Jircniv to reassess his surroundings. Aside from servants and guards, there were only two people present; only the two monarchs were seated at the table. 

Surely that’s just because we’re where the decision-making power lies, the human forcefully convinced himself, feeling a prickle of cold sweat on his back. He’ll call in my betrothed any moment now.

“Hm,” the overlord considered the human with cold red flames. Jircniv could feel his very soul being scoured. “Though, before we get to that, a gift.”

The undead snapped his fingers, and one of the supernaturally beautiful maids delivered a small velvet box to the table. Jircniv kept a polite smile on his face, but he still feared the box as if it would bite his hand when he reached for its contents. 

“I’m undeserving,” he said numbly.

Working up a bit of courage, Jircniv opened the box and stared at a beautiful, gilded vial of bright red liquid. It looked exactly like fresh blood. He was overcome with another flight of dark fantasy at the sight of it. 

Perhaps it’s unacceptable for a mere human to marry one of his people, even if I’m an emperor. This potion could have the power to transform me into a monster like them. 

He did his best to shake away the thought. 

“This is…?”

“It is a healing potion,” the undead king explained calmly. “Don’t mind the color. It’s perfectly safe for human consumption.”

“A red healing potion?” Jircniv questioned, hesitant to so much as touch the glass. His eyes soon widened as an old legend rose from the depths of his memories. Could this be the legendary panacea: god’s blood?! The emperor swiveled his head to stare at the Sorcerer King in shock.

“B-by any chance, Lord Ainz, have you ever felled a god?” he asked, barely able to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Hm? A god, you say?” The Sorcerer King held a pristine white hand to his chin and lifted his eyes in thought. “Ah, I suppose that did happen, didn’t it?” 

It was likely a calculated move, but he acted like he only just noticed the effect his words had: which was turning the emperor’s face pale like ash. 

“Oh, I’m just muttering to myself. Please disregard whatever you heard. This potion does not utilize any kind of blood as an ingredient.”

Two inclinations whispered in Jircniv’s ears. One told him not to poke a sleeping dragon and to leave what should stay buried alone. The other tempted him with curiosity—duty, even—to learn what the sorcerer’s words meant. 

Curiosity won, and he put a friendly and encouraging smile on his face. “I can, of course, but it sounded like an interesting story.”

Ainz considered Jircniv with his burning eyes and hummed to himself. “It was a god named Cainabel. Though it was a long time ago, my friends and I brought him down together.” His tone of voice implied that mentioning his “friends” was sufficient explanation for felling a god. It wasn’t. “I doubt his name is familiar to you. He wasn’t particularly worshiped by humans. Oh, but one of my subordinates is a cleric worshiping Cainabel. Isn’t it curious that her powers remain despite the death of her god?”

Reeling over the many implications of what had just been said to him, which the undead king made seem so unarguably true, Jircniv scrambled for something, anything, to say in response. “It’s very interesting,” he stated. “I’ll have to hear the whole story sometime.”

Genuinely, who had the power or the gall to be friends with Ainz Ooal Gown? Was he referring to the other beings that stood with him in his throne room upon their first meeting? They seemed more like vassals than friends though. Or could there still be other ancient monsters in the world like Ainz Ooal Gown, sleeping, hidden away to enjoy their peace and quiet…?

And again—how could it be possible that they killed a god?! 

“Now then,” the undead transitioned, “Please, go ahead and drink that potion. Consider it thanks for everything you’ve done so far; you’ve earned it no matter how our next talk goes.”

Jircniv stared at the potion for a few more seconds before lifting it from its velvet casing. 

A panacea given out as casually as vitamins, he awed. Does he simply want to ensure I’m in peak health before marrying one of his people? Or could it be that he knows about the potions I’ve been taking?

He had tried to be secretive about that, but it wasn’t surprising if Ainz knew anyway. Not surprising, but certainly worrying, as it would mean he had absolutely no privacy anywhere. 

Even if the draft was poison, he had no choice but to drink. Jircniv removed the cap from the bottle, brought it to his lips, and downed it in one breath. 

A healing warmth settled in his stomach and quickly spread to the rest of his body. His stomach lining no longer hurt, his hair was thicker and more vibrant, his skin sparkled with vitality, and he felt full of energy. Thoughts of concern still lingered in his head about why he was given such a gift, but he was happy to have had it. 

“That seems to have helped, Lord Ainz. I feel well,” Jircniv smiled. He waved to his attendants, who passed a wrapped gift box to Ainz’s subordinates to place on the table. “As it happens, I also brought a gift. I hope it will put me in the good graces of my would-be betrothed.” The human paused briefly to calm his turbulent emotions. “So, who among your people would you have me marry, Lord Ainz?”

Jircniv waited with baited breath, praying for a name he didn’t recognize or a low-ranking title to be voiced. The overlord hummed and examined the tall white box his servants placed in front of him. 

He began delicately unwrapping it from its amethyst silk ribbon. “That would be myself.”

It was said with such casual brevity that Jircniv thought he misheard. No, perhaps he wished he had misheard. When he realized that was not the case and the words echoed in his ears like a death knell, he was glad for his improved condition, or else he feared he might have fainted from the pain in his lower esophagus. As it stood, his reinvigorated stomach lining held strong.

Jircniv failed to completely control his facial expression. However, the undead had his eyes focused on his gift, giving the human time to wipe away the pale horror from his usually cooperative face. 

“... You, Lord Ainz?”

“Correct.”

Jircniv was usually quite proud of his quick and flexible thinking, but his thoughts now hovered about like bubbles, haphazard, dizzied, and vanishing almost as soon as they came. He may have lost a modicum of the royal dignity he always tried to uphold.

Ainz Ooal Gown plans to personally enter a marriage alliance with me? 

No matter who the candidate ended up being, there was no choice but to accept. However, for it to be the Sorcerer King himself… Why?

The image of a marriage alliance could be preserved even by offering up a lowly servant to the role. Ainz should have had many more valuable ways to use himself as a chess piece. He already had the Empire as a vassal nation, so he wouldn’t be gaining that by this arrangement. 

Jircniv remembered one particular line from the letter that had been sent to him, “To strengthen the bond between humans and heteromorphs.”

I suppose he could use himself to set an example for the other heteromorphs and demihumans to get along closely with humans. And he could use me to reassure humans and demihumans that heteromorphs—and he in particular—can get along peacefully with their kind. 

That seemed like a reasonable justification. Tensions between humans, demihumans, and heteromorphs had always been high, and the Sorcerer King had to work hard to give a peaceful impression of himself after the massacre he instigated on the Katze Plains. The unmentioned (nonexistent) bond between the living and the undead might also be strengthened by this arrangement.

But that only justified Ainz’s marriage. There was no need for Jircniv specifically to be his partner—almost any human would do. 

Ainz Ooal Gown might have an eternity of undeath and be free to waste a few mere decades marrying a human, but it would be Jircniv’s whole life. 

I know it’s impossible, but… is there any way for me to refuse without angering him?

At that moment, the Sorcerer King finished unveiling his gift: a potted flower taken from the emperor's garden. It was a small but beautifully flowering white rose bush. Their meaning was loyalty and purity; a good flower for weddings in general and even better when sending red roses of passion wasn’t appropriate. This would be a political marriage, after all. But knowing now who his betrothed was, Jircniv wished he had brought something else for a gift. The snow white petals produced an eerily beautiful harmony up against the Sorcerer King’s fathomless black robes and pristine white bones. 

It was as if they had been chosen specifically to match their recipient. And to be honest, they had been. Albedo’s name meant “whiteness,” after all. But they suited the skeletal king just as perfectly. 

Upon seeing the flowers, the undead chuckled mildly to himself. 

“Ah, I-I hope it’s an adequate gift,” Jircniv said quickly. “Though it’s certainly lacking when compared to god’s blood.”

“There’s no sense comparing them. Each is precious in a different way,” The undead made a profound statement quite casually and stroked one of the blooms with a boney claw. “They look very healthy,” he nodded, “I’m reminded of a conversation I had the other day.”

Jircniv relaxed again slightly, relieved that his gift wasn’t poorly received. “Could I ask what that conversation was about?”

“It was suggested that as an undead I might enjoy killing plants.”

Emperor Jircniv gritted his teeth, wondering who had the gall to say something like that to this man. Then again… he is undead. Maybe that person had a point.

“It’s a gift, Lord Ainz, so it’s yours to do with as you please.” Jircniv chose the safe route. 

“Thank you for that, but as it’s a gift, I intend to cherish it. And besides, that experiment proved to be a failure.” 

So they ran an experiment on the subject, Jircniv thought in a daze. 

He waved his hand and a beautiful maid came and took the flowering bush away. “Now then, my trusted subordinate, Demiurge, whom you’re well acquainted with already, has assisted me in drafting a document explaining the legal implications of our union. But before we look that over, I’d like to know from a personal perspective—do you have any objections?”

“Objections? From a personal perspective?” 

Jircniv blinked in surprise. This was a political marriage with easily foreseeable benefits and a clear power disparity. What place was there for personal feelings? He had never anticipated being asked such a thing. It almost implied he had the right to refuse…

Do I? … No, surely not. Perhaps he means for me to bring up logistical concerns I may have as a human. Ainz Ooal Gown still lacks human advisors, after all. 

“I wouldn’t call them objections, but I do have some questions and concerns,” he said tentatively. 

Ainz nodded and gestured for his subordinates to leave the room. With just one wave of the hand, they all left in an orderly fashion. Jircniv followed his example after a split-second internal debate, sending his men away. 

“You may speak freely, Jircniv,” the undead said once they were alone, in a deep and gentle voice. “You have my word that you won’t face retaliation or punishment, no matter what you say here.”

“Thank you, Lord Ainz.” Jircniv wasn’t entirely sure how far he could push that promise, but he did decide that he had no choice but to put some trust into it, for his own sake. “First of all, I understand the benefits your public image stands to gain by marrying a human, but why me specifically? The Empire is already your vassal. You could gain more politically by marrying someone from another country: the Golden Princess, for example.”

Ainz hummed and laced his fingers as he propped his elbows up on the table. He leaned his mouth against his hands and shook his head, speaking slowly and deliberately. “No. It has to be you.”

“Wh-why is that?”

The overlord seemed to contemplate the emperor and his stiff posture. Was it a judging gaze? Was the answer to his question supposed to be obvious? 

Unbeknownst to Jircniv, Ainz was trying and failing to recall the reasons he and Ainzach had come up with to justify Jircniv as a candidate. Grasping at straws, he turned to the conversation he had had with Demiurge and Albedo instead.

“To protect you.” 

“… What?” The emperor stared in shock, and his mind needed a few moments to catch up. Protect me? … Ah, I see. 

“So that’s how it is…”

A sad smile touched his lips. He had allied himself with Ainz Ooal Gown very publicly. Originally, he wanted to act like something of a spy and feed information to whatever group gathered to oppose the Sorcerer King, but that plan fell apart. Not only had no such group formed, but Jircniv was seen as the undead’s co-conspirator and despised. Perhaps Ainz had already unearthed a plot or two to get rid of him. 

It’s his fault in the first place that I’m in this situation, but he must still need me; he wouldn’t just let me get assassinated. 

Ainz nodded. “I’ll be plainly honest. If you can’t tolerate this arrangement, you can refuse. I won’t stop you. But for your sake… I wouldn’t recommend it.”

For my sake? Jircniv felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I’m sure it is, but he stands to gain far more than I do… if my life can be measured on such a scale. 

“May I be forward?” Jircniv asked, wondering himself where his current burst of confidence was coming from. The Sorcerer King nodded, and he said, “You’re powerful enough that you don’t have to go to such lengths just to protect me, Lord Ainz.”

I’m sure isn't just about preventing my assassination or drumming up his public image. Sure, this fixes two problems with one move, but they weren't difficult problems to fix separately, and marriage is a powerful card to waste here. 

Jircniv tensed as his probing seemed to get a response. 

“So you noticed,” Ainz murmured, holding his mouth and turning his gaze down in contemplation. He managed to recall his conversation with Ainzach, the basic outline of it, at least, then peered up at the human, slowly saying, “Well, I was getting to that matter. But before that, it isn’t “just” to protect you. We’re friends, aren't we? Your safety is important to me.”

Friends?? Jircniv felt his whole body recoil, though that was only on the inside. After all the torment you’ve put me through, you say we’re friends?!

“A-ah, yes, we’re friends…” Jircniv agreed, in a somewhat strained voice, since he couldn’t just stare at the monster like he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. 

If all of those mind games were done in the spirit of playing with a friend, then I’ve severely underestimated Ainz Ooal Gown’s intelligence and overestimated his humanity… But for a being on that level, I can picture it. 

It was possible that with Ainz’s powerful intellect and skewed undead sensibilities, toying with a somewhat clever human, undermining his plans and schemes, and cornering him with no route of retreat, could be considered a game. Just a friendly match. Jircniv played that game well, compared to the people of the Kingdom, at least, so maybe hitting the ball back to his side of the court, however feebly, nurtured a feeling of friendship in the monster’s nonexistent heart.

Or maybe he was otherwise amusing for reasons a human couldn’t possibly understand. 

“Now, could you elaborate on this matter you mentioned?”

“Of course. You have the right to know about it before agreeing to anything.” 

Ainz Ooal Gown straightened his back and folded his hands on the table in front of him. But almost immediately, his shoulders sloped fractionally, and Jircniv swore he heard a faint sigh. 

Is this for show? The emperor wondered in shock. What could make Ainz Ooal Gown react like that?

The undead’s voice was low and measured, “Several of my female subordinates have been fighting over my affection,” he admitted. 

It was a revelation that the human both instantly understood and accepted… yet couldn’t accept at the same time. Women are typically attracted to wealthy and powerful men… but an undead, really? What affection do they hope to find?

“It’s how they were made, and I have no right or desire to admonish them for it, but I can’t accept being with any of them. They’re the beloved children of my dearest friends. I can’t help but feel that it would tarnish their memory.”

So Ainz Ooal Gown’s mysterious friends were dead… or unreachable, at least. Jircniv considered it good news. The world could only bear the strain of so many people with that level of power. 

Also, “made”?  

He brushed it off. It wasn’t important right now. 

Jircniv drank in the information that was being offered to him like thirsting tree roots. It was rare that he got insight into the demigod known as Ainz Ooal Gown’s personal thoughts and history. He noted several hints of emotion that seemed genuine: guilt, discomfort, sadness, conviction… They were speaking alone in this room, and Jircniv was slightly baffled by the sense that he was given the chance to see Ainz Ooal Gown as a person for the first time. 

He couldn't shake off the lingering dread that it was all an act. Worse, it was working. 

“I left it alone at first,” Ainz admitted. “I hoped they would give up, or move on. I was simply too soft-hearted to turn them down directly.”

Such unexpected weakness, Jircniv mused. When it comes to personal relationships, apparently even the great Ainz Ooal Gown is just an ordinary man. Clumsy, even. 

Nobody was perfect, at the end of the day. 

Surely this can’t all be a ruse?

“But that was a mistake. I should have addressed the situation sooner, more firmly. Ultimately, my silence only led them on… Until the day that Albedo lost her mind to lust and attempted to assault me.”

“What?!” Jircniv stood up in shock before slapping his hand over his mouth and sitting back down. He hadn’t intended to interrupt, but the shock simply hit him. “I-I apologize. Should I be hearing this, Lord Ainz?”

The overlord tilted his head back slightly, peering at the ceiling. “It’s fine. Everyone in Nazarick knows already. And it’s relevant to the conversation.”

The emperor’s eyes widened, “Ah,” as he suddenly realized what was being asked of him. 

By marrying, Ainz would declare to all of his subordinates, “Give up. Move on. I’m not interested.” And his marriage partner would be the obstacle standing between him and all the monsters who adored him. Jircniv would be a living shield between Ainz Ooal Gown and countless impashioned heteromorphs, including Prime Minister Albedo. He felt the blood draining from his face, as this was worse than the worst case scenario he had imagined on the way over. 

“I… I alone can’t stand against such people, Lord Ainz. As much as I sympathize and want to help, I’m only a weak human politician at the end of the day.”

“I understand that,” Ainz nodded, “I don't expect you to come to blows with them. I won’t allow them to harm you, or you them. Do what you can with your words and spirit to encourage them to seek other prospects.”

“And if they kill me?”

“I won’t let that happen, I swear on the name Ainz Ooal Gown.”

Jircniv smiled faintly. His gaze involuntarily lowered to the table. This was a lot—no, it was too much. A mere human was being asked to stand up against multiple common-sense defying monsters alone. This wasn’t a marriage proposal, it was a request for self-incarceration. 

Having the knowledge that, despite all pretenses, he couldn't refuse actually helped the emperor recover quicker mentally. His eyes drifted to the paperwork on the table. 

“I doubt I can really be of help to you, Lord Ainz, but let’s move onto the official documents for now. I hope those will answer the rest of my questions.”

Chapter Text

Jircniv found the documents provided to be very thorough. They not only answered his logistical questions clearly and concisely, they also answered questions he hadn’t considered yet. 

Jircniv peeked up to momentarily glance at the undead overlord seated orthogonally to him. 

They’re serious about this, he mused. 

Ainz caught Jircniv’s glance. “If you have questions, I can call Demiurge here.”

Jircniv held back a wince. He got antsy every time he heard the name of that demon, the one with the power to control men with just his voice. Of course, he was safe because of an anti-mind-control charm he always wore, but it still unnerved him. 

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” he assured Ainz. Then he pointed down at the paper in front of him. “Um, but this here, I’m allowed to have concubines?”

The Sorcerer King nodded. “You can have anyone from Nazarick who agrees, or bring anyone you like from outside. We’ll just need to vet them to determine how much clearance they’ll be allowed. And of course, be careful what you share with them.”

Jircniv nodded, “Of course, I understand. Can I ask you to start vetting the concubines I already have in the Empire?”

He had been prepared to resign himself to celibacy for the rest of his life. Perhaps a few trysts if he was allowed to get away with it. But instead, he had upfront permission, and even a yearly allowance set aside, to keep concubines. It was a relief.

According to the documents, he was even allowed to have children to continue his dynasty—they would just have no claim to the Sorcerous Kingdom. Ainz Ooal Gown had no need for an heir, being an immortal undead. 

No, actually, the more he read through the documents, the more favorable they appeared. He was not only going to be recognized as Ainz Ooal Gown’s husband, but as the King Consort of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and more mysteriously, the second in command in the Great Tomb of Nazarick. 

He felt like he had just been handed the keys to the palace of god. If his authority was actually recognized, the armies and wealth at his disposal would instantly turn him into the second most powerful man in the world. 

Jircniv sipped some water from a glass and forcefully suppressed his excitement. He was still heading into a den of demons here, it wasn’t all fun and games. And he was a damned emperor. What was he doing getting all giddy over shiny new toys?

But this had improved his mood considerably. 

“Ah, just to be clear, is this section here everything about my obligations as a husband?”

Ainz glanced at his copy of the documents, paraphrasing the exceedingly simple clauses aloud. “Act as my equal, be loyal to Nazarick, and defend my interests. Yes, that’s all. Of course, you know the details hiding in that last clause.” Ainz saw Jircniv smiling somewhat mischievously and tilted his head. “Is there something wrong?”

“Usually there would be something about visiting your chambers at night,” Jircniv chuckled faintly, and he snorted a laugh when the undead’s jaw parted. “Sorry, it was a joke.” He smiled, tapping the documents, “The first clause. I was just testing the water.”

“A-ah, I see.”

Well, there’s one good thing to come from this , he thought . I actually got to fluster Ainz Ooal Gown for a change. 

The undead cleared his throat, somehow, and quickly collected himself. “In the interest of clarity, no, you have no such obligation.”

“I see.” Jircniv smiled, genuinely. He was quite sure he had pushed a few buttons with that one, but there had been no reprimand. Ainz, at least, it seemed, was going to genuinely acknowledge his position. That boded well for his survival, since many of the others were likely to follow their king’s example. 

“Say, Lord Ainz—”

“Just Ainz,” he insisted, tapping the first clause. 

Jircniv blinked and smiled brighter. “Ainz. There’s something I’ve always wondered. Do you mind if I ask?”

After the human’s previous comment,  the undead looked skeptical. “… You may.”

“What are you?”

The emperor was calm on the outside, but there was tension beneath the surface. He waited, hoping for a proper answer to his question. 

Would Ainz brush him off? Say that he was an undead, the Sorcerer King, the Ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, or any of the other things Jircniv already knew? Would he claim to be a god? Would Jircniv even doubt him if he did?

At this point, I’d be satisfied just to know what species of undead he is. He can’t be an Elder Lich. They look similar, but that’s like comparing a pond to an ocean. 

But he could think of no other type of undead closer to the monster before him. 

Meanwhile, the skepticism obvious in Ainz’s countenance melted away, so it didn't appear that this was a question that bothered him.

“If you mean my race, I’m an Overlord,” he stated. “An Overlord Wiseman, specifically.”

Jircniv blinked and held back a self-deprecating peal of laughter. Of course Ainz Ooal Gown is an Overlord! What else would he be?!

Also, there was more than one kind of Overlord? Did Ainz innately know that as a member of the species, or had they existed once in the distant past? Perhaps they had fought each other to the last as godly beings in legend tended to do. 

But a Wiseman? That suits Ainz Ooal Gown perfectly , the emperor mused. 

“I’m glad you didn't confuse me for an Elder Lich,” Ainz continued. “Perhaps because my kind isn't well known, that happens from time to time.”

The emperor’s smile stiffened on his face and he cleared his throat. I was caught, he thought to himself. “Of course not, there’s hardly even a resemblance…”

Jircniv fully realized that his lies had been seen through, but he pretended otherwise out of courtesy, and Ainz didn’t seem to want to press him. The Overlord graciously changed the subject. 

“So, how is it? How soon can you make your decision?”

Jircniv clasped his hands together on the tabletop. “There’s no need to drag this out. I accept your proposal.”

“Are you sure? You can take some time to think it over.”

Jircniv laughed. Even as far as lies of courtesy went, that one was truly pointless. Or even if it truly was an offer for an extension, made out of goodwill, it still posed no benefit. No preparation Jircniv was capable of could possibly prepare him for what he believed was to come.

“Yes, I’m certain, Ainz. I’ll marry you.”

***

After his meeting with his own eventual death, Jircniv was allowed to return to the empire for a few days and put things in order. Several additional delegates, including the demon Demiurge, were sent from Nazarick to help manage the place in its emperor’s absence. The bloody emperor ironically did everything in his power to make it as bloodless a transition as possible. 

Because Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix was soon going to be the second highest authority in Nazarick, after Ainz, there was a lot he needed to be informed of, so he would essentially be living there until the wedding. But there was one other thing he had to do first. 

It was time to announce their wedding date to the public. 

Jircniv examined the Nazarick maids who were helping to dress him with well-hidden suspicion. They looked like ordinary young human women… but that couldn’t be true. They were all supernaturally beautiful, for one. Perhaps not quite as fetching as the so-called combat maids, but still easily gorgeous enough to outclass anyone in the empire—even the women in his harem weren’t as beautiful. 

He didn’t have a single thought of recruiting them, or anyone in Nazarick. It was best to let sleeping dragons lie. 

Interestingly, Jircniv noticed that despite all sharing the same style of black dress with white lace as a uniform, each maid had a slightly different pattern of embroidery. He couldn’t tell if it denoted status in some way or was purely decorative. 

But these maids clearly had an eye for detail. The outfit they had chosen for their new human master was beautiful—almost holy. It was a set of white robes, with golden embroidery and accessories that resembled his usual style just enough to feel familiar, yet were different enough to be fresh and exotic. The fabric quality was the softest he had ever touched, and it was practically weightless, like air. 

He was glad for a thin but heavy decorative gold belt that gave the outfit some semblance of presence. Otherwise, he feared his mind would be tricked into thinking he wasn’t wearing anything at all. 

Jircniv gently traced the interlocking golden leaves that formed the belt. The workmanship was extremely fine. He glanced at himself in the full-length mirror standing in front of him. 

With this, I won’t lack presence even next to Ainz. 

“Well chosen. You ladies are just as skilled as I expected from people serving Lord Ainz.” Jircniv was deliberately polite with the Overlord’s name in front of the maids. “May I know your names?”

“Of course, sir,” said a maid with glasses, holding a dainty hand to her chest. “I am Lumiére. These are Cixous and Fith.”

The three maids curtsied with perfect posture, and then Lumiére spoke again. 

“Such praise is what we live for. We are always glad to be of service.”

“That’s a commendable attitude,” Jircniv nodded faintly. “Forgive me if this offends you, but I couldn’t help noticing many of the Nazarick maids I’ve seen have appearances resembling humans. Is it for my sake?” 

Lumiére blinked and held a hand to her chin. “If our appearances have helped to put you at ease, that’s good, but all of the maids in Nazarick have human-like appearances.”

Human-like, Jircniv echoed, feeling vindicated to know with certainty that they weren’t actually humans. But that puzzlement, does she not know why maids with human-like appearances were selected? Or, maybe not selected, maybe these are creatures that can change their appearance on a whim. 

Curious, he pressed her, “Could I ask what the reason for that is? On my first visit to Nazarick, I saw many individuals who had no resemblance to humans, and Lord Ainz himself is undead. Forgive my ignorance, but it doesn’t quite make sense to me to have only all of the maids resemble humans.”

Lumiére’s delicate brow furrowed, and she frowned ever so slightly. “… I’m not sure of the reason,” she admitted, lowering her hand back to her side. “The thoughts of the supreme beings are beyond common understanding. It is possible that, forgive my words, they thought weak humans suited the role of servants. Or it’s possible that, since we maids would be directly visible to them by nature of our work, we were given appearances they find appealing…” she hesitated. “Though that would imply the supreme beings admire beautiful human appearances.”

She bowed her head, “Please forgive the vague answer.”

The emperor gently waved away her concerns, “No, please don’t worry about it.” But his head was spinning. Three things in the maid’s answer had stood out to him. 

First, she mentioned supreme beings, plural. He thought it likely that the supreme beings included Ainz Ooal Gown and the friends he had mentioned, the ones who had helped him fell a god and had already passed on from this world. It seemed they had once ruled over the Tomb of Nazarick together. 

Second, these maids were “given” their current appearances. What in the world did that mean? Was some magic used to transform them? Were they monsters possessing human corpses? Were they selectively bred for their task? He was frankly afraid to ask. 

Third, the implication that the supreme beings, including Ainz, appreciated human beauty. Jircniv knew from his interactions with Pei Riyuro, his dear Quagoa friend, that although he could learn to tell individuals of vastly different races apart, whether they were considered beautiful or not was much more difficult to understand. Jircniv only understood beauty in terms of humans, and Riyuro only understood it in terms of Quagoa. Elves, for instance, all looked beautiful by human standards and not so beautiful by Quagoa standards, and neither Jircniv nor Riyuro would necessarily be able to point out which elves were more or less beautiful among their own kind. 

So had Ainz Ooal Gown been human once? 

The other supreme beings also had a say in who served them as maids, so Jircniv thought of a simple question that could point him in the right direction. 

“The other supreme beings, were they undead Overlords, like Lord Ainz?”

“No,” Cixous spoke up, shaking her head with a bright smile. “The supreme beings came from many different heteromorph species. Lord Herohero, for example, was a slime.”

How the hell would a slime have any sense of human beauty? Jircniv kept his frustration only inside his head as his theory went up in smoke. 

He decided to shelve the topic for later. And just as well, since a knock came at the door not long later. 

Ainz entered the room with five more maids trailing behind him. He was dressed in white and gold as well. The maids had apparently coordinated their outfits for the event. Of course, Ainz’s outfit was more extravagant. Like Jircniv, he wore sandals and a golden crown, and his clothes were a sanctimonious white. But the fabric was clearly higher quality in a magical sense. Golden embroidery resembling runes faintly shimmered at the hems of the robes, which were comprised of heavily bundled white fabric that left one shoulder exposed and the other arm heavily burdened. 

It was a type of outfit Ainz would call a toga, and secretly, he wanted to get on his knees and beg for something different to wear, no matter how closely this resembled his husband’s usual style. 

But Jircniv wasn’t aware of any of that. In front of him, Ainz stood proud and confident enough to carry such impressive clothes. The mismatched arms seemed to represent peace and civility, one by exposing the body to harm without fear, and the other to restraining a limb that could’ve been used to attack with. The heavily folded fabric was decadent, requiring reams more of the magical cloth than a typical outfit would have used, and it helped to add bulk to the skeleton’s slim build profile. 

It was also interesting to see Ainz in white instead of black. The impression was… strangely sacred.

Who knew even undead could look pure in the right attire? Jircniv mused. 

“Welcome,” Jircniv greeted him brightly. “Have I kept you waiting, Ainz?”

Several of the maids flinched when he dropped the titles before their master’s name, but Ainz held up a hand to calm them. “He’s my fiancé. There is nothing wrong with calling each other by name.”

The invisible thorns that seemed to be prickling off the maids folded away, and the atmosphere returned to calm. Ainz turned his gaze back to Jircniv. 

“Of course not,” he said. “I apologize for intruding, but it’s about time we make our appearance.” 

Jircniv almost replied, but his well-trained social skills sensed further words hanging on Ainz’s metaphorical tongue, so he smiled encouragingly and waited. 

Soon, the Overlord said in a low voice, “It suits you very well, Jircniv.”

The emperor blinked. “Though that would imply the supreme beings admire beautiful human appearances.” Lumiére’s words echoed in his head automatically. 

He banished all distracting thoughts and answered without missing a beat. “Thank you, Ainz. You have some very skilled maids working under you. I think I’m just about worthy enough to stand beside you like this.”

Jircniv was surprised to see Ainz shake his head, brushing away the subtle compliment he in no way could have missed. “You don’t need fanciful clothes to be worthy of me, Jircniv.”

Again the emperor blinked. The unexpected sentimentality made him feel a little off-balance.

Is he putting on a show for the maids? He suddenly realized. Showing me respect in front of the servants is a good way to ensure they respect me even when Ainz isn’t around.

Still, the long-standing employees of Nazarick must have had a great deal of loyalty toward their eternal master. So instead of asserting himself, an upstart outsider, as Ainz’s equal, Jircniv played it polite instead to get into their good graces. 

“I’m flattered to hear that, but I should at least put up an image worthy of your name.”

He expected a chuckle, perhaps, but the maids stood straighter with pride and the undead’s pinprick red eyes glowed briefly with intensity. 

“That you should,” the tenderness in the Overlord’s voice was replaced with regality, the true kind that had to be bred into a person’s blood and engraved on their bones. “The name of Ainz Ooal Gown must never be tarnished.”

Jircniv just smiled along and pretended he knew in advance how much pride Ainz and his servants had in his name, and he filed the information away in the “do not disrespect!” category of his brain. 

***

Ainz stood upon a lofted balcony overseeing a wide plaza. His citizens were gathered down below, packed tightly like sardines. It seemed as if every man woman and child, human and demihuman, had come out to witness his announcement. Death knights framed the pavilion at a distance for everyone’s safety, and despite the crowd, it was quiet as the grave. 

Couldn’t you people be a little more lively? Please?  

Ainz glanced at his side where Jircniv was standing, worrying that he would be disappointed when he compared their two populaces. 

The human emperor smiled magnanimously down at the crowd, looking like a ray of sunlight with his bright hair, face, and robes. How Ainz admired and envied the way Jircniv was always perfectly collected. All he could do was his best in an attempt to emulate that natural charisma. 

Ainz turned his gaze back down at the people and took a metaphorical deep breath. He had a speech that Sebas and Pestonia had written for this event for him that he had practiced all night every night for a week and completely memorized. 

As for why he had those two write it, Albedo was on bed rest from the mental blow recent events had dealt her, and Demiurge was busy running the Empire in Jircniv’s absence. So he had picked two people with good manners who didn’t have a habit of talking down to humans and understood concepts like affection. He convinced them it was a test of how well they could provoke joy in humans after interacting with them more than most other residents of Nazarick.

Just to be safe, he’d also allowed Jircniv to review the transcript and make changes here and there. 

He began by activating his dark halo skill, since his subordinates all insisted it enhanced his presence at moments like this. 

“People of the Sorcerous Kingdom!” he declared, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace his people. His voice was amplified with magic to reach the whole plaza easily. “Today—”

Ainz interrupted himself when he felt a hand urgently tugging at his heavy layered sleeve. He glanced down at Jircniv. The undead’s expression very clearly read, “why are you interrupting?” while the human’s tight smile screamed, “wait just a second, please!”

Temporarily disabling the voice amplification magic, Ainz urged, “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t have stage fright does he? He only has a few lines at the end! I’m the one who has stage fright here!

Ainz noticed a bead of sweat trailing down the emperor’s neck. “Th-that halo is very regal, Ainz, but I have to insist you don’t use it in front of humans—unless you’re trying to intimidate them.”

Ainz’s eyelights glowed brighter in surprise and gratitude, and he immediately deactivated the skill. Now that he was looking for it, he noticed relief quietly hit the crowd below. 

… I should have known better than to listen to the guardians on an issue like this, he sighed. 

“Thank you, Jircniv. I hadn’t realized.”

The emperor nodded and released his sleeve, and Ainz buried his shame to resume the speech. 

What the crowd of humans down below saw was their undead king being pacified by a few whispered words from an angel. 

“Today is a happy day,” Ainz announced. “I have always envisioned a nation where people can stand side by side and help one another, regardless of species. A nation where all people are safe, prosperous, and happy. My words and my intention to be a benevolent ruler has not changed since the founding of this kingdom. I have already shown you my willingness to fight to protect you, my precious people. Now there is no fighting to do, and stability has returned to this good nation, and so I am proud to lead by example and show you all what peace and harmony can look like. Today, I announce that I, Ainz Ooal Gown, your king, will be wedded to Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, six months from today!”

Ainz’s portion of the speech ended on a grand note, and he paused long enough for the people to cheer and clap. Instead, they murmured in confusion while a few anxious people patted their hands quietly together. 

Ainz lowered his arms and thanked his undead body for its lack of tear ducts. 

Couldn’t you at least pretend to be happy? It isn’t easy working up the courage to give a speech like this. 

Jircniv stepped forward for his portion of the speech, but having seen the people’s reactions so far, he scrapped the script and adlibbed.

“People of E-Rantel,” he started, “I’m sure you all know me, but I doubt many of you recognize my face. I am Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the Bloody Emperor of the Baharuth Empire, and the scoundrel who dragged your city into an annual war every harvest season for the past few years.” He shrugged, “Well, until we realized this land belongs to Ainz, right?”

People few enough to count on one hand laughed under their breath, but when everyone saw they weren’t punished, the tension began to ease slightly. 

“We’ve had our differences in the past, but I think everyone here has come beyond the petty squabbles of nations already. It turns out, most people aren’t so different from you or I, am I right?”

Jircniv paused briefly, and the audience murmured a little, a few smiles spreading on faces, some nods, and some humans and demihumans wrapping arms around each other’s shoulders. They had long since bonded amidst their shared suffering. 

The emperor smiled brightly. “Right, most of us aren’t so different after all. Most of us. There are a few exceptions… My role in all of this, the reason a lowly human is marrying the great Sorcerer Ainz Ooal Gown, is because he knows that he doesn’t quite understand you, his people, yet. I mean, that terrifying aura at the start was supposed to be inspiring, you know?”

Jircniv laughed and this time a good number of other people from the crowd laughed too. Ainz felt that he’d be flushed from embarrassment by now if he had blood and skin, but witnessing his people more lively than they had been in months was infinitely more important. He telepathically ordered all subordinates who were guarding or supervising this event not to dare interrupt or harm anyone. 

“Ah, but how could he have known it was scary if nobody told him?” Jircniv said, causing the crowd to turn introspective. “So hang on a little longer and wait for me to settle into my role here. And live a little in the meantime. At least you won’t be executed just for coming outside and laughing with friends.”

And with that, Jircniv gave the crowd a little wave and stepped back, smiling brightly at Ainz as he did so. “I hope I didn’t upset you. I needed a little something to break the ice.”

Ainz shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind being poked fun at a little if my people are happy.”

He stepped forward to give a few finishing words, but he didn’t miss anything. Jircniv wouldn’t’ve allowed his genuine surprise to show on his face. 

The undead king looked down at the people of his small and diverse country and said, “A King who claims to want to rule with understanding should be laughed at for making such a mistake. It would be more disrespectful to me to understand what I’m doing is wrong and allow it to continue.” 

His words were a clear warning to any subordinates listening not to go after these people later… And to stop being such yes-men! How many times had he used that aura in front of people without realizing it’s true effect?! Just thinking about it gave him a headache. 

I-I’ll pretend I knew and claim this was a test to see who would point it out to me first, he decided spontaneously. 

“Of course, I’m not blaming any of you who sincerely didn’t know or were too afraid to speak up. Instead, I’m praising my fiancé. I think he will be exactly the King Consort the Sorcerous Kingdom needs. So, everyone, thank you for coming. Let’s continue striving to understand each other and build a prosperous nation together.”

Ainz stepped away from the stage to the tune of a mild applause, which warmed his nonexistent heart. Seeing Jircniv turn that chilly situation around and actually breathe some life into the crowd… he sighed. I still have a long way to go.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, in a small, heavily protected office in the Emperor’s palace, a frog-headed demon in a Cinebar suit held a hand up to the side of his head while receiving a message. 

“Understood,” he told the sender, and turned toward a few other normal looking people… some of which were actually humans of the Empire. “It’s time. They’re giving the announcement there, so we should do the same.”

One of the humans saluted with a tense look and hurried out of the room. The other true humans followed him with their eyes, enviously. 

The frog demon took a seat in the chair that was meant for their emperor. 

“Now then, you’ve given me an adequate summary of the state of things here.” Demiurge’s task was to maintain the status quo in the Empire according to the Emperor’s wishes, so that Jircniv could stay in the Sorcerous Kingdom without worry. The demon steepled his fingers atop the Emperor’s desk. “One long-standing worry is the few corrupt nobles who remain in seats of power. How about we discuss that?”

Shivers of dread trailed down the spines of the humans as they feared for their fellow man. They had a feeling that those nobles would soon be wishing they had capitulated to the Bloody Emperor when they had the chance. 

After a productive and open-minded discussion, Demiurge sent most of the civil officials away to begin enacting his new policies. Only he and one doppelgänger remained together in the office. 

“Sir Demiurge, there’s something I’m curious about,” the doppelgänger stated. 

“And what would that be?”

“I’ve heard the rumors, of course, that this marriage is intended as a punishment for Overseer Albedo, but isn’t it too harsh? Her promised place at our master’s side has been taken away. If it were me…” the monster stopped speaking, clenching his fists at his side. “… The grief would be unbearable.”

Demiurge exhaled a breath and shook his head. “Remember, Ainz takes context into consideration whenever he delivers a punishment. Albedo is an immortal demon. The human Emperor will live, what, eighty years at most? Albedo’s hubris upset the last remaining supreme being who still takes interest in us. If it were me deciding it, her punishment would have lasted no less than a thousand years. Merciful as always.”

“But…” 

The doppelgänger hesitated to further question his master’s judgment. However, Demiurge saw through his concerns and smiled with his wide mouth. It was a servant's duty to understand their master’s intentions, in order to best fulfill their will. So he kindly explained the situation to his fellow creation. 

“Don’t make that face. It’s not so bad. Lord Ainz has never said there was only one place at his side. This eighty year sentence is only for Albedo, filling only her spot. More importantly, Ainz has given the rest of us hope by demonstrating that despite Albedo’s failing, he’s still willing to consider awarding the privilege of marriage.”

“But what if marrying that human wasn’t only a tactical decision?” the doppelgänger whispered. 

Demiurge frowned. “Does it hurt your pride? The idea that a mere human caught Ainz’s interest before you or any of us creations? Would you still feel envious even if it were me instead?”

“Of course! Who wouldn’t be envious? Are you not?!”

“It cannot compare to my fear.” Demiurge’s glare caused the doppelgänger to shut his mouth and swallow. “The fear that my hubris would push him away and cause the last supreme being to abandon us. Our sacred duty as the creations of the supreme beings is to give them what they want, not to dictate it. Were I chosen, it would be the happiest day of my life, but only Lord Ainz has the right to judge my worth. I am still worthy enough not to be abandoned. To speak with him face to face and share my simple strategies with him. Of course I long for more, but the last thing I will do is repeat Albedo’s mistakes.”

Feeling ashamed of his selfishness as a fellow creation of Nazarick, the doppelgänger saluted his devilish superior. 

“Of course, everything you said is correct. I’m ashamed.”

“As long as you’ve seen sense,” Demiurge nodded. “Now, show me the reports from our spies. If anything kills that hu—Lord Jircniv besides old age, we cannot bear the weight of Lord Ainz’s disappointment.”

“Yes sir.”

***

Jircniv found himself standing next to a simple log cabin that he would never be able to forget for his whole life. The cabin was surrounded by nothing but plains for as far as the eye could see, so the simple fact that there were wooden logs out here already made it seem otherworldly. This region was littered with grassy hills, and one in particular rose up high from the ground right beside the small cabin. 

He had been here before, on the unfortunate day he first met Ainz Ooal Gown. Inside was a magic tool that could transport people into the Great Tomb of Nazarick. 

Jircniv knew from the reports of his spies that the neighboring hill was a hollow circle, housing an isolated cemetery inside. The tomb in the center of that cemetery was the official entrance to the Tomb. 

All Jircniv knew about the place was that no one who had gone inside uninvited had ever left, and that the interior resembled a palace fit for a deity. 

Ainz had teleported here with Jircniv in order to finally give him a proper tour of the place. But they stopped in front of the log cabin to recruit one additional member. It was a young woman wearing armored maid clothes, a scarf with a strange pattern on it, and an eyepatch. Despite the apparent injury, she was a stoic beauty with long red hair. 

One of the combat maids, Jircniv realized. 

“This is CZ2128 Delta, one of the Pleiades combat maids,” Ainz introduced the woman. “You can call her Shizu, for short. She’s an Automaton programmed with knowledge of everything in Nazarick, so she’ll be your dedicated attendant until you’re familiar with the place. Shizu, this is Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, my fiancé. Treat him with respect.”

The stoic girl nodded and replied with a quiet and monotone, “Roger.”

Automaton? Programmed? Roger? Jircniv temporarily brushed aside the words he couldn’t understand and put a smile on his face, offering his hand to his new attendant. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shizu. I’ll be counting on you quite a lot until I get used to things here, so thank you in advance.”

“Mm.” The maid hummed faintly and gently shook his hand. 

Through her strangely-patterned gloves, her hands were cold and very firm, which surprised the Emperor, though he knew in advance the maid wouldn’t be human. 

Is an Automaton a kind of insect species? Her hand feels like it has a caparace or a steel shell…

“No worries. I’ll keep you safe,” Shizu murmured, removing a strange flat paper from her pocket and pressing it onto the Emperor’s cheek. 

It was cold. And to his mild panic, it stuck there. He reached up and gently felt it, like a cool, firm scale on his cheek. 

Is it dangerous? Is it permanent?!

He forced down all of his inner panic and smiled brightly. “Thank you very much. This is…?”

“One yen.”

Jircniv’s confusion only deepened, but Ainz Ooal Gown of all people came to his rescue. 

“Ah. It’s a sticker of a one yen coin… Basically, it’s a small drawing with an adhesive back. Shizu puts them on things she likes, so it seems she likes you. Isn’t that nice?”

Jircniv glanced from the undead king to his Automaton maid, who bobbed her head and muttered, “Cute.”

Jircniv thanked his parents for the good looks he was born with, as he assumed to have met another monster that appreciated human beauty. 

“I’m glad you think so. You’re a very beautiful young lady yourself. It’s too bad I don’t have any stickers to give you.”

Shizu blinked and dug into her pocket, removing a handful of the same thing she’d put on the Emperor’s cheek, so he finally got a look at them. 

He sounded apologetic when she offered them to him. “I appreciate that, but if I use the same stickers you do, won’t people get confused about who put them where?”

The Automaton lowered her chin and nodded. “Too bad.” And she put the stickers back in her pocket. 

“Hm. If I remember right…” Ainz murmured. He stuck his hand into a swirling black hole in the air and fished around for a moment, pulling out several sheets of stickers shaped like gold stars. “Right. I did have some lying around. Would you like to use these?”

Unable to say no at this point, Jircniv simply nodded and smiled. “To think you had more. I’ll gladly use them.” He took the sheets and held them up next to his face. “Do they suit me?”

Shizu nodded. “Shiny.” 

“Isn’t it good that you’ve made a friend, Shizu?” 

Ainz chuckled and spoke to the maid as if she was his niece or daughter. She took no offense and bobbed her head, and the Emperor managed to remove a gold star from the sticker sheet and put it on the Automaton’s cheek. 

He smiled. “It looks good on you,” he said, and turned toward Ainz. “Now, Ainz, I have one for you too.”

“Hm? Oh, well…”

Jircniv’s smile brightened. If I have to walk around like this, so do you. He remorselessly reached up and pressed the sticker against the undead’s forehead. 

“There.” Jircniv desperately held in a peal of laughter. “Who else would I like more than my soon-to-be husband?”

Ainz felt at his new accessory and sighed faintly. “That’s true, I suppose.” He glanced down at Shizu. “How is it?”

The Automaton hummed for a while and tipped her head back and forth to express her inner conflict, before finally admitting, “Not cute.”

“… I see.”

Jircniv was silent, all of his will and focus directed at holding in his laughter. 

This is insane, he thought. I haven’t even gone inside yet, and already all common sense is lost. Is it the feeling of mortal peril contrasted against this ridiculous scene? My sides are splitting!

“Well, let’s go inside, shall we?” The Overlord announced, casting flight magic on them all and carrying them mystically over the hill. 

Jircniv saw with his own eyes a modest, isolated cemetery. There were mausoleums at each of the four corners, and a temple in the center. It was an entrance that didn’t suit its interior.

Or so he thought until he stepped inside, where all that awaited was a dank and dark tomb. 

“This is…?” he murmured. 

In front of him, a swirling black Gate opened, and a familiar being emerged from it. She was a delicate young woman, with snow white skin and hair, blood red eyes, a plum colored dress with a bell-shaped skirt, and a buxom figure for her apparent age. It was one of the beings who had stood beside Ainz during their first meeting. Someone Jircniv had once assumed was a concubine or strategist of his. 

“This is the first floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick,” the girl said haughtily. “And I am the first, second, and third floor guardian, Shalltear Bloodfallen.”

She gave an elegant yet arrogant curtsy, and glanced up at Ainz with a smirk, as if asking him to evaluate her performance. 

Ah. One of the subordinates who’s been harassing him, Jircniv realized. 

“I’m not sure what a floor guardian is yet, but that sounds very impressive,” he did his best to appease the monster in a girl’s skin. 

Shalltear frowned at him and trotted up to Ainz, clinging to his robes. “My darling Lord Ainz, is it fine to marry an ignorant human like this? Doesn’t he need someone mature to show him the ropes? I… I could…” spotting the gold star on her master’s forehead, her words stalled. And then she snorted. “Wh-what is that, Lord Ainz? D-did Shizu give you that?”

Jircniv took the chance to reenter the conversation and raised his hand casually. “Ah, I gave it to him.”

With a smug smile, the buxom girl spun around to face him and folded her arms under her chest. “How uncouth. To make a mockery of the great Lord Ainz’s supreme personage, I would expect no less from an ignorant human. Such childishness doesn’t suit his mighty and beautiful self.”

Jircniv kept a polite smile on his face and reminded himself that Ainz Ooal Gown had promised him full support in dealing with these women. She could not harm him, and the stage for a debate was set beautifully in his favor. 

It would be impolite not to accept the invitation, he thought mischievously. 

“Perhaps you aren’t aware? I was informed that putting a sticker on something is a sign of affection. Did you mean to imply that something representing affection and love doesn’t suit Ainz?”

“Wha—!” Her waxen cheeks flushed red. “I didn’t say that! O-of course such a thing would suit Lord Ainz!”

“Even if my sticker didn’t have such a meaning, is it polite to laugh at your master? He could have taken it off if he thought it was too silly, but he himself decided not to.”

“Th-that…”

“And lastly, they say love is blind, so if you really have affection for Ainz and not just his appearance, there should be nothing that doesn’t suit him in your eyes, only some things which suit him better.”

“I… I…” Tears welled up in the girl’s red eyes, and she clutched a decorative fan tightly in frustration. Then she slackened and bowed down at the Overlord’s feet. “Lord Ainz… I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Shalltear…”

That’s not good. Jircniv heard sorrow and affection in the undead’s voice. He reminded himself that the Overlord had a weak spot for these beings and couldn’t bear to disappoint them. He stepped in to avoid his efforts being undone. 

“Alright, stand up now,” Jircniv said, offering a hand down to the kneeling girl. “Ainz isn’t angry with you and neither am I. But if you greet someone with hostility, you should expect hostility in return. Of course I have to defend my fiancé, even as a mere human, even from an esteemed guardian like yourself. But if you understand your mistake, then it’s water under the bridge.”

Shalltear glanced at Ainz, who nodded, and then hesitantly accepted the emperor’s hand. “Y-you should, yes,” she grumbled, standing and trying to salvage her dignity. “I’ve shown you something disgraceful on our first meeting. Please pay it no mind, and I will give you a tour of the first three floors that I protect.”

Jircniv nodded, and the group of three followed the guardian through her floors. 

“Nazarick has ten floors in total,” Ainz explained some of the basics. “The first three floors are the Catacombs.”

Jircniv nodded. He looked at the slate gray walls and wondered how many generations of Nazarick’s dead were buried inside to merit such a wide area. 

“The guardians protect the floors, I take it. But from what?”

“From invaders,” Shalltear stated proudly. “As the guardian of the first three floors, I fought most often to defend Nazarick. That’s also why I, the strongest floor guardian, am stationed here at the entrance.”

Jircniv glanced at Ainz with an incredulous look. “Were there really enough fools invading this place to justify dedicated guardians?”

“There used to be,” Ainz said simply. “However, most didn’t ever make it past the sixth floor, and the one group that did were defeated at the eighth.”

They continued touring around the first three floors. Shalltear showed them notable locations as if she was a tour guide… which she essentially was, at the moment. 

“This is the entrance to my quarters. Its official name is the Grave Vault of Adipocere. You can find me inside if you need me, though please don’t come in without permission.”

“This here is the Windowless Underground Chapel. Ah, I suppose you can’t see inside without Darkvision. It is rather grand, I promise.”

“This is the Derelict Rope Bridge. It isn’t safe to walk across, so take caution.”

“This is the Black Capsule, the residence of one of the Area Guardians, the Prince of Fear.” Shalltear paused and shuddered. “Erm, don’t ever go inside. It isn’t dangerous for you, strictly speaking, but still, if you value your sanity.”

“And here is the exit to the fourth floor.” Shalltear stopped almost wistfully. “I suppose this is where my part of the tour ends. Enjoy the rest of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, my lords. And don’t get cocky, human, or I’ll take your place someday!”

She ran away through a gate after those last words, and Ainz held his face and sighed. “Well done,” he told Jircniv. “Is there any chance I can remove this now?” He pointed at the sticker. 

“I’m not sure about the etiquette for removing stickers,” Jircniv shrugged, glancing at Shizu. 

“Do what you want,” she stated. 

“So she says.”

“Then, forgive me, I’ll take it off now.”

Jircniv smiled warmly at Shizu. “I think I’ll keep mine on a little longer.” He reasoned that wearing a sign of approval from at least one resident here might make others more inclined to give him a chance. “But I will move it to the back of my hand, for convenience.”

***

One by one, Ainz guided Jircniv through the floors of the Great Tomb. He showed the man who would soon be second in command the general path that invaders would have to tread, sharing occasional stories and memories on the way. 

After the first three floors was the fourth, the Underground Lake, where the golem Gartantua slept at the bottom of a still blue pool. 

After that was the fifth floor, Glacier, where Cocytus greeted them as the guardian in charge. 

They toured the sixth floor, the Jungle, with the twin guardians Aura and Mare, showing off the Amphitheater, their gigantic tree residence, and more.

The guardian of the seventh floor was Demiurge, and he was away at the moment, so they explored the hellish, flaming land without a guardian to guide them. 

Many, many things had caught Jircniv by surprise during this tour, until the point where he thought nothing at all could faze him anymore. He saw a golem the size of a mountain. He saw one underground cavern where it snowed as if it was outside in the grip of winter, and another where he could see a gorgeous night sky. He learned that the twin dark elf children he’d once had tea with as they delivered a death threat to his palace were guardians. He saw hell itself, demons and all, held subordinate to the tomb. 

Many grotesque places had been nested within the above. There were torture rooms, prisons, and even places that their guardians were too afraid to explain in detail. Jircniv pressed only once, and Ainz calmly explained to him about Neuronist and her Room of Truth, and so he learned that the silence of the guardians was for the benefit of his sanity, but that Ainz would still explain if he had questions. No, the undead seemed wistful and all too happy to describe the place he and his friends had built together. 

So the most frightening thing of all for Jircniv was at the end of the seventh floor, when Ainz announced: “We’ll be teleporting directly to the ninth floor from here. The eighth floor is a little too dangerous.”

Seeing Ainz reluctant to elaborate for the first time, Jircniv couldn’t hold back his curiosity and asked, “W-what’s on the eighth floor?”

“… All you need to know is that it’s our last defensive line against invaders,” Ainz said vaguely. 

All the human could picture was a pit full of horrors beyond imagining, the apocalypse itself, and he resolved never to go there even if he was feeling suicidal.

But then, since the eighth floor was the final defense, the ninth and tenth floors were where the beings of Nazarick must’ve actually lived their lives. Indeed, it was like a different world down there. Instead of yet another hellscape, they had finally arrived at heaven. Jircniv saw wealth and extravagance beyond anything he had ever witnessed. The ninth “floor” seemed to cover the area of a city all on its own, and it was packed full of sources of entertainment as well as every kind of facility a person would need to live comfortably. 

It was too much to put into words. The ninth floor had everything, and it was where he was going to live while he learned Nazarick’s way of life.

While walking down wide carpeted halls that reminded him of a better version of his own palace, Ainz explained. “The offices are down that way, including mine and Albedo’s. If you turn there instead, you’ll find the ordinary residences.” 

Then he continued down yet a third path and walked quietly, almost solemnly, down the most extravagant hall so far. They passed door after door without explanation, until Jircniv couldn’t help himself. 

“These are?”

Shizu pointed at one of the rooms. “The professor’s room.”

“The professor?” Jircniv asked. 

“Garnet,” Ainz stated. “Shizu’s creator, and one of my dear friends.” The undead went silent. 

Dead, Jircniv realized. All these rooms are kept empty in memory of the other supreme beings who helped build this place.

They stopped in front of the last door, where a maid was standing dutifully just to open the door for them. 

“This is my room,” Ainz stated. “I don’t need it, and I rarely use it, so you can treat it as yours.”

“I see. Would you mind if I spent a little time familiarizing myself with it?” 

Ainz nodded. “I don’t mind. We did a lot of walking, so you must be tired. Have Shizu guide you to my office when you’re ready to continue. She can also show you to anywhere else you might need in the meantime. There’s no hurry.”

The overlord turned around and walked back up the hallway, and Jircniv entered the room, leaving the two maids outside while he waved to have the door shut behind him. 

“It’s dark,” he murmured. 

Shizu’s monotone voice sounded through the heavy door. “There is a switch on the wall next to the door. Press that for light. Or clap your hands twice.”

“Ah, thank you,” he called back, clapping his hands as instructed. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling instantly came alight with magical brightness. 

As expected, the room was glorious. He had nothing even to say about it at this point. The emperor strolled over to a bed wide enough for five people and stroked the black satin sheets with one hand. 

Soft. 

He let himself fall backward onto the bed with a sigh of exhaustion, and his stomach growled inelegantly. 

I let a tireless undead guide me around an endless underground world for the better part of a day. That maid must be from some kind of golem or undead race to have that kind of stamina.

Sitting up, Jircniv called, “Can I have some food and water brought here?”

“Of course, my lord,” the “regular” maid apparently could hear him as well. “Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

“As long as it’s physically and morally edible to humans, I’ll take your recommendation,” he smiled wryly to himself. 

“Very well. I’ll be back shortly,” she declared, and presumably walked away. 

Jircniv sighed. “Shizu, would you come inside for a moment?”

“Roger.”

The door opened, and the Automaton maid entered. She shut the door behind her and stood statuesque at the entrance. 

“I have plenty of questions,” Jircniv said, “but before any of that… I’d like to ask about the other supreme beings.”

The stoic girl nodded. “What would you like to know?”

“Well… let’s start with how many were there.”

“There used to be forty-one supreme beings. Lord Ainz was their leader.”

Jircniv was pleasantly surprised to have this quiet girl volunteer more information than he asked. But also, That’s a lot.

He smiled warmly. “I see. Were they all as strong as Ainz is?”

“No. The craftsmen among them were on the weaker side, while others focused more heavily on combat. The strongest was Lord Touch Me.”

“So how did Ainz become their leader?”

Shizu tilted her head. “I heard they voted. It was unanimous.”

“Unanimous?!” 

Jircniv was struck by that. As a politician he knew that getting individuals to agree on anything was a nightmarish task, let alone to have a unanimous agreement on something as important as who would lead the most powerful group of beings in the world. 

“How did he achieve that?”

“I don’t know,” Shizu admitted. “That was before I was created.” She held a finger to her lips. “I can guess?”

Jircniv was literally and figuratively at the edge of his seat (the bed), and he nodded his head eagerly. “Please do. I’d love to hear your theories.”

“Lord Ainz… loves very deeply.”

“What?” Jircniv couldn’t help murmuring in confusion at that sudden assertion. 

Still with her finger against her lips, like she was telling a secret, Shizu tipped her head again. “Lord Ainz has the lowest karma rating, but he’s kind. He listens to everyone. He treasures us.” She held her head straight again. “Maybe the other supreme ones knew he was the kind of person who would protect everyone’s legacies forever.”

She lowered her hand, and Jircniv stared in stunned silence. Slowly lowering his head, he summarized, “You’re saying that he was the supreme being who cared the most for the others?”

The combat maid nodded once in affirmation. 

The emperor clasped his knees and leaned forward, a strange light shining in his eyes. “What happened to them?”

The Automaton’s face was always very stiff, as if it was fixed into one expression, so seeing her dip her chin and lower her eyes said a lot. 

“… Don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Jircniv was incredulous, but he kept his tone reasonable. “Are they dead?”

She shook her head emphatically. “The supreme beings were beyond death. They could come back even without resurrection magic.” Her head drooped. “But they’re gone. Don’t know where, don’t know why. Lord Ainz won’t talk about it. Maybe we’re incapable of understanding.”

Jircniv sat up straight, taking in the distress of the monster maid. That’s it. That’s the strange fervor I’ve sensed from all the residents of Nazarick so far. They don’t just worship Ainz like a god, they also fear being abandoned by him. 

He reflected on his first meeting with the master of Nazarick. At that time, Ainz had been just on the verge of annihilating the surface world for interrupting his peace and quiet. 

… Was it really peace and quiet, or was it mourning? Because it seemed like things were lively back when all the supreme beings were around, and even just the other day, Ainz had expressed a preference for a lively populace over a quiet one. 

The joy that was in the undead’s voice every time the two monarchs met again for another interaction…

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Lord Ainz… loves very deeply.”

“…” Jircniv held his chin as his eyes slowly widened, sharpening in understanding. 

Jircniv came to the conclusion that, as the first new person to interact with the Overlord amidst his long mourning, and perhaps as a fellow ruler or even as a person of barely suitable intellect, he had become Ainz Ooal Gown’s rebound. A new friend to fill the void left behind by the old ones. 

Ainz was abandoned too, Jircniv realized. He feels like he was, anyway. 

Having been abandoned by Fleuder Paradine, the old man who practically raised him, and his closest confidant, Jircniv understood the feeling of abandonment. How trapped and lost it left a person. He knew well the chaos that could be wrought by the desire to vent one’s feelings when the only ears available were subordinates. He knew how redeeming finding a friend could be. 

And Ainz knows that I know all of that too, Jircniv shuddered. 

He wondered… all of the events that had led him to learn those lessons had involved Ainz Ooal Gown in one way or another. It was he who stole Fleuder away. It was he who had tormented Jircniv with stress to the point he even took some of it out on his subordinates. It was he that led Jircniv and Riyuro to meet. Had his life been manipulated into this situation simply… so that the Sorcerous King could have a confidant, an equal, who understood his pain?

If so, that was sick and bile-churningly twisted. But also… very clever and scheming, just like Ainz. 

And he wasn’t cruel without reason—just as Shizu and even Jircniv himself had said in the past. There was mercy and logic in the torment that the Sorcerer King wrought. 

Jircniv had been led to meet Riyuro after suffering alone for a stint. He had been given a true friend for the first time in his life. 

Even this maid was a plant; their conversation was intended to guide Jircniv to the conclusion Ainz wanted. 

“Now that you know what relief feels like, pass it along.” Is that what you want, Ainz? The Emperor rested his chin on his fist and sighed through his nose.

The master of Nazarick was a little too fond of the candy and the whip strategy. As it turned out, the world had never stopped being a hostage held over the emperor’s head. The pressure had only been released as part of a greater plan. And yet, if he accepted his role and played it well, not only would he live a full and happy life, but his legacy would be guarded preciously forever by an undying god. 

Friends, huh? … Yes, we’re friends, Ainz. I’ll give you someone to love and cherish… so you had better cherish me, and treat me as an actual friend from now on. 

Chapter Text

Ainz sat down in his office, folded his hands on his desk, and glanced at the invisible eight-edge assassins on the ceiling. Then he pretended to have a serious air about him while he thought back lightly on the day. 

Well… that went well, I think?

Shizu seemed to get along fairly well with Jircniv right off the bat. Plenty of Nazarick’s residents had a habit of looking down on humans, but the Android maid had managed to befriend Neia Baraja, so he had hoped a similar thing would happen here. 

They managed to tour almost the whole of Nazarick in a day, even if it was a surface-level look at things. And the emperor had officially been introduced to all of the floor guardians. … Albedo was still isolating herself inside of her room, however. He worried about the moment they would meet face to face. 

Speaking of dread, the eight-edge assassins tensed as Ainz’s aura became more serious for a moment.

My message earlier today got through, right? It would be terrible if Jircniv let the maids push him into wearing whatever. Or worse, if he actually came to like those gaudy clothes…

Well, I’m sure it’s fine.

He had some time to himself, most likely. Ainz had gotten so absorbed in showing his friend around Nazarick that they had skipped lunch entirely. The human should need some time to rest and refresh himself. Which also gave Ainz time to get mentally sorted. … Or rather, to just be a bit lazy for a while.

I gave him my room, so I guess I’ll have to do rehearsals in my office from now on? But there’s better privacy in that wing… 

I wonder what Jircniv will order from the cafeteria. Maybe I could go with him one day as an excuse to take a look at the place. That would seem natural, right?

Because Ainz was an undead who didn’t need to eat, he’d never really been to the cafeteria that the NPCs used. He was curious about it. But if their boss just waltzed in for no reason while they were eating, it would disturb everyone’s precious mealtime, right?

Ainz’s mind continued to wander until he heard a knock at the door. 

That was quicker than I thought, he mused. Of course, there was a maid beside the door. Ainz nodded her to let in his guests. 

But it was just one guest this time: Albedo. She looked neat and tidy, though her face was somewhat more pale and tired than usual, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. It wasn’t that noticeable, but clearly she had been emotionally unwell for the past few days. 

“Ah, Albedo,” Ainz greeted her gently. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

She smiled and bowed at the waist. “Forgive my absence, Lord Ainz. I’ll resume my duties as soon as I leave here.”

“I see. That’s excellent news.” Both Nazarick and the Sorcerous Kingdom ran on Albedo’s back, after all. “What is it you’re here for, then?”

The beautiful demoness smiled with thin lips. “Merely to…”

***

“Merely to retrieve my paperwork and transport it to my office,” Albedo said with a somber heart. 

The Guardian Overseer had no idea her master would be here at this time. To her knowledge, he was busy giving a tour to that human man . Ordinarily, she would be beyond joyful at the unexpected presence of her beloved, but right now…

She was in the midst of a long and harsh punishment and had no right to see him. Hence, she would not be sharing an office with the master of the tomb for the time being. 

There were many things Albedo wanted to say and ask, but she wasn’t prepared yet. And hastily saying something foolish risked pushing her even farther out of her lord’s grace. 

At the very least, she still had her position, which meant she had plenty of little chances to redeem herself through competency. 

Albedo steeled herself, walking up to her desk and taking a stack of large binders from it. “Well then… Please excuse me, Lord Ainz.” She lowered herself into a deep bow.

“Mm. Take care of yourself, Albedo.”

The demon’s maiden heart seized in agony. Lord Ainz sounded so sincere in his well-wishes for her. He didn’t take any pleasure in her suffering. Then the offenses she had committed to deserve it must have been dire indeed… but what had she done wrong in the first place? It vexed her that she couldn’t understand her dearest’s heart. 

Feeling bitter, she smiled as warmly as she could and made her departure. The decadent halls of the ninth floor seemed hollow and empty. The plush carpet drowned out her graceful footsteps, and it was all but silent. 

Albedo felt terribly alone. 

Yet behold, more denizens of Nazarick approached from the opposite end of the hall. Albedo’s keen yellow eyes noticed CZ Delta and—.

Her heart pounded hard against her ribcage and went still for a little too long after. For a moment, the elegant demoness faltered in her steps. 

The approaching people were far down the hall. Shizu was a sniper, and she had surely spotted the Guardian Overseer’s strange movements, but the human had certainly not. So she fixed her gait, stood as tall and proud as she could, and resolved herself for a face-to-face encounter. 

Far down the hall, Albedo saw Shizu lean in and whisper something shortly into the human’s ear, hiding her mouth behind her gloved hand. The human turned his head toward her and nodded, smiling, whispering something back. Albedo’s sharp pupils narrowed as she focused on reading his lips. 

“I see. Thank you, Shizu.”

What the hell did that Android tell him? Was she a traitor? Did she advise him to be polite, or even simply just inform him who the demonic beauty down the hall was to this place? Albedo gritted her teeth in frustration but kept her lovely facade up on the outside. 

Soon they met in the middle. Jircniv spoke first, with a polite and amiable expression. 

“You must be Prime Minister Albedo. And I’m told you’re also the Guardian Overseer of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. You’re a very busy woman, my Lady. I’m glad to finally have the chance to meet you.”

“My my, you must be Emperor El Nix, the human man to whom Lord Ainz has bestowed the greatest possible honor.” Every title of his was laced with just a touch of derision. What was an emperor? What was a human within the walls of Nazarick? Nothing. Less than dust. 

“I’m flattered that you recognized me at our very first meeting,” the human replied, smiling brightly. 

As if to say, I’m at least important enough for the Guardian Overseer to know my face. 

Albedo barely held back from clicking her tongue. 

“It’s only natural that I should recognize our loyal vassals as the Prime Minister of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Don’t get cocky, human. Your only relevance comes from your involvement with Lord Ainz. 

“So you knew me even when I was just a mere vassal. I admire your work ethic, my Lady.”

Recognize my current position. I dare you, he countered.

Albedo was being led into an obvious trap and she knew it. She didn’t have the option to deny the relationship between the supreme one and this lowly human, as Ainz himself had declared it. But still, her smile twitched. Never. 

“Thank you very much. And if you don’t mind, I have work I must be doing.”

Albedo tried to walk around the two, but the human had to throw one last barb. 

“Of course, keep up the good work. I’ll go and chat with Ainz then.”

Albedo clenched the binders in her arms tighter, hearing the human’s carefree voice calling the supreme one irreverently. Her voice and expression took a turn for the devilish, and her feet stopped. 

“… To have permission to call the supreme one directly by name, do you understand the significance of the honor you’ve been bestowed?” she asked sternly. 

Jircniv wiped the carelessness from his countenance, but he didn’t stop smiling even under the intense pressure of a glaring level 100 NPC. 

“Do you?” he boldly challenged. 

The Guardian Overseer grinded her teeth and raised her chin, all pretense of gentle kindness gone. 

“A creature as lowly as you couldn’t possibly comprehend the sheer greatness of the last of the supreme ones better than I,” she told the ignorant worm. “You would not even have the right to set your dirty feet in these sacred halls were it not for Lord Ainz’s generosity. To monopolize his attention in any form is a privilege which ordinarily should never have gone to an outsider.”

Shizu lowered her chin slightly. “Questioning Lord Ainz’s judgment?” she spoke in a low tone. 

Albedo glanced at the combat maid and shook her head. “Of course not. I’m only giving Mr. El Nix here a frame of reference for how exceptional his current circumstances are.”

But to both their surprise, the emperor began to laugh. “Ah, really?” he asked, still smiling, but with a somewhat feverish look in his eyes. “And here I wondered if you had anything profound to say, but you don’t even know the half of it.”

Albedo turned to him and demanded, “What do you mean? Explain!”

“Well…” he wiped a hilarious tear from the corner of one eye, “for starters, there isn’t anything exceptional about my circumstances. Lord Ainz has been conditioning me for this role since even before I’d met him face-to-face.”

Albedo felt ice in her veins and she dropped the binders that had been shielding her. They landed on the carpeted floor with a series of dull thumps. 

“Wh… what did you say?”

Jircniv finally finished laughing and looked at Albedo seriously for the first time. “I’m saying that my position is more than just an honor, it’s a role to perform. One that you turned out to be unsuitable for.”

“How… can that be…” Albedo felt her entire body trembling. “How could you pass a test that I failed?! What was it?! How—”

The Emperor interrupted her calmly. “Shizu says she doesn’t know what happened to the other supreme beings and that Ainz won’t talk about it. Did he ever mention them to you separately, perhaps?”

Albedo’s pupils contracted as a memory flitted behind her eyes. The Mausoleum in the Treasury, all of the belongings of the supreme beings, crude statues lined up side by side, and Lord Ainz showing them all to her. 

“… He did,” she whispered. 

“Wow.” Shizu expressed her utter shock monotonously as anything. 

“And how did you react?” The human asked, smiling faintly. 

“…” The Guardian Overseer hung her head in sorrow at the painful memory. “I cried and begged him not to leave us, and he consoled me.” She glanced up at the human with a sharp glare, demanding where the evidence of her failure was.

Jircniv shook his head and sighed softly. “I’ll bet he tried encouraging the floor guardians to be more independent and free-thinking after that.”

Albedo’s eyes widened and she lifted her face, her mind stirring with memories of Cocytus’s lizardfolk conquest and the increasing number of tests and tasks entrusted to all the floor guardians by Ainz. “What makes you say that?”

“Am I right?” He smirked. 

Albedo frowned and nodded. At this point, she simply wanted to pick the human’s brain. She had always shared Demiurge’s opinion until now that the Emperor was merely a moderately clever human. He wasn’t a human-born monster like the Golden Princess, nor was he a fool like so many of their primitive species. Yet somehow, he was proving to have more insight into her master’s strategies than either of the hyper-intelligent floor guardians: to retroactively predict the supreme one’s moves with so little to go off of was unheard of. 

“I see.” Jircniv lowered his head in a slow nod, his lips stretching with mild satisfaction. “I thought so. There are some things only a fellow ruler can understand—the first clause, you could say.” He frowned. “There’s nothing more I can explain to you that you would understand.”

The emperor started to walk past her, but Albedo spun around and grabbed the back of his clothes. It was shameful, but she was desperate. 

“Don’t just stop there!” she begged. “Why did I fail?! What did I do wrong?!”

Jircniv took a deep breath and watched Albedo’s snow-white hand until she removed it. 

“It’s not that complicated,” he stated, brushing himself down. “You cried into his arms, and now he has to be strong in front of you. Because you look up to him.”

“He’s a supreme being,” Albedo defended herself with a numb mouth. 

Jircniv dared to scowl derisively down at the demoness. “He’s one of forty-one supreme beings. Even as their leader, Ainz never stood alone. But all of you worship him too blindly to even give him the pretext of company, so my life and worldview had to be torn down and remade to his liking, and now a lowly human understands your god better than you do.”

Albedo’s lower lip trembled, and she had to bite it still. His worldview was torn down? His mind reshaped to Ainz’s will? That feverish light in the human’s eyes… What had Lord Ainz revealed to him? What enlightenment had he received? To have his entire mentality redefined… she was utterly envious of him. 

His eyes tell me he’s almost broken… It’s the best that can be expected from someone who claims to have comprehended the thoughts of a supreme being. Albedo imagined she saw deep understanding and worship in Jircniv’s tormented gaze. Even Demiurge and I could not manage such a…

A sudden realization struck Albedo, almost feeling like a physical force. Her back straightened before she lowered herself to her hands and knees. 

She was no longer facing a lowly human worm. She was gazing upon the first mortal to comprehend a supreme being. The gap between them was usually insurmountable. Ainz’s wisdom was vast to the extent that it took time and effort even to simplify his explanations to a point that they could barely understand. 

But here was a mortal who had understood without explanation. Here was an apostle, a window into the mind of their god, deliberately broken and reshaped by the supreme one himself for that purpose. 

The emperor was too clever to lie about something that could be so easily disproven by a single word from Ainz. He would know that the punishment to follow would be hell on earth. Therefore, Albedo had no doubt that it was true.

Reshaping his mind would have obviously been a deadly and ruinous process. Was that why Ainz selected an outsider to endure it? When and how had it even happened? We’re there more such apostles, or failed apostles, out there? None of it mattered. 

This human was a gift to the poor, ignorant beings of Nazarick: Ainz’s mouthpiece for mortal ears. 

“Forgive my ignorance, Lord Apostle!” Albedo shouted, tears welling in her eyes. “I did not recognize you—no, I admit I never even imagined that a mortal who could fully understand the will of a supreme being could exist!”

The apostle looked down at her with wide eyes, surely balking at her unsightly appearance. 

“I know I’m unworthy,” Albedo almost whispered. “But please, just a glimpse… Please share just the smallest understanding with me so that I can better serve Lord Ainz.”

Jircniv turned around to face Albedo squarely. He contemplated her for a moment, then the light of madness and understanding glowed in his eyes again, and he smiled brightly. 

“You’re right. One of my roles is to communicate Ainz’s will,” he confirmed Albedo’s deduction, and immediatley Shizu dropped to her knees as well in a deep bow.

“Apostle,” she droned. “Forgive the disrespect.”

Jircniv shook his head and pointed at the sticker on the back of his hand. “Ainz and I both allowed it, Shizu. Excessive formality quickly gets stifling. Both of you, stand.”

The Android felt at the golden star sticker on her cheek and stood up. Albedo did the same, revealing a messy, tear-streaked face. 

Jircniv blinked at her and reached into his robes, pulling out a sheet of stickers. He removed one little gold star and wiped away her tears, pressing the sticker below her eye instead. 

“I know that Ainz thinks you’re beautiful,” he told the two girls. “And he loves you. All of you. Be content with that, for now. I’ll drag you all down to my level of suffer—of understanding later.”

Albedo held back her tears only to keep from ruining the sticker’s adhesive properties. She touched her cheek with trembling hands and murmured, “Thank you, Apostle.”

The Overseer beamed, dreaming of the day she could be burdened with divine knowledge to the point of suffering. 

Albedo watched the Apostle and Shizu leave toward Lord Ainz’s office and sighed. She sniffled back the remnants of her crying and smiled brightly, collecting her binders and returning to work. 

***

Ainz heard another knock at his office door not long after the first one. He wondered if Albedo had forgotten something when she stopped by last, but this time it was Jircniv and Shizu. 

He stood up from his desk upon seeing them. 

“Are you ready to continue the tour?”

The Emperor smiled with warmth, looking happy and well-rested. “Yes, I still have a lot to learn.”

Ainz nodded. And walked with them back out into the hall. He realized something and ordered, “Aside from Jircniv, anyone else who’s listening, avert your attention.”

Shizu promptly plugged her ears and averted her eyes. The invisible eight-edge assassins on the ceiling did the same. 

Ainz turned his gaze down toward Jircniv. “Albedo visited my office not long before you arrived. Did you run into each other?”

The emperor nodded. “Yes, we did.”

Ainz felt his non-existent stomach churn. “How did it go?”

“It’s about halfway resolved,” Jircniv shrugged calmly. “She understands my position now and won’t be causing trouble for me.”

Ainz lifted his head higher in surprise. It was good that Jircniv was able to form a truce with Albedo quickly. It would buy them more time to resolve her unrequited affections. It could be said to be a good result, as expected of a real emperor. 

“Ah, also, it seems I’ve been given the title “Apostle”.”

Eh? Ainz turned his gaze down again. Apostle? Like a messenger of god? Where did that come from… Ah, is it because of that?

Ainz was worshiped by the NPCs like a god, so maybe they had decided on “Apostle” as the official title for his spouse. That made sense, he supposed, though he wondered if it was necessary to give his husband another title. 

“That was quite fast.”

It could be tricky to get the denizens of Nazarick to agree without Ainz’s input, but they had determined a special title for his spouse on the same day the wedding was announced. 

“Well, those children may be a little dependent, but they can be quite clever still.”

“Mm.” 

Ainz nodded in instinctual agreement, then looked at Jircniv in surprise. His fiancé looked back up at him and smiled faintly. 

“The first clause. That’s how you think of them, right? Then shouldn’t I too?”

Ainz’s jaw parted slightly, but he closed it without saying anything. Instead, he contemplated the human emperor. He didn’t think of that interpretation as Jircniv looking down on the NPCs. Instead, it was like he had completely understood the dynamic of Nazarick and found his place in it. 

The NPCs often needed to be convinced or told how Ainz viewed them, but here was an outsider, understanding it well in a single day without needing to be told. 

It was only a little bit, but… Ainz felt seen. 

“… I think I chose the right person after all,” he murmured, turning his gaze to focus on where he was walking. 

He waved, and everyone who was plugging their ears unplugged them. 

***

Ainz showed Jircniv around the rest of the ninth and tenth floors. The emperor was particularly interested in Ashurbanipal, Nazarick’s library. He seemed even more invested in learning everything he could about the Great Tomb now than he had earlier in the day. Ainz took great heart at seeing his friend so enthused about the place he and his friends had made together. 

After reaching the throne room, and pointing out each of the forty flags hanging from the pillars, as well as the grand flag of Ainz Ooal Gown behind the throne, Ainz was planning to take them to the Treasury next. However, Jircniv was obviously distracted by one unadorned flag pole, so Ainz let him take a few moments.

After a few moments of contemplation, Jircniv turned to Ainz and asked. “Ainz… what was your original name?”

The undead’s pinprick red eyes shone brightly, then dimmed as they narrowed. 

As expected of Jircniv. He’s really incredible. 

“… It was Momonga.” 

As he said his old username aloud for the first time in months, it felt a bit strange and unfamiliar. He was getting used to being called Ainz. It sounded just as much like his own name as it did the guild’s name now. 

Jircniv smiled at him and approached several steps closer, until they were directly facing each other. The emperor looked up at him with a wry smile and waved his hand. “Anyone listening, avert your attention,” he ordered. 

Shizu did so immediately, and after a glance from Ainz the eight-edge assassins followed along. 

Jircniv smiled up at Ainz. “Their name should be preserved,” he affirmed. “But so should yours. Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like me to call you when it’s just the two of us.”

Ainz was momentarily hypnotized by the strangely accommodating look in Jircniv’s amethyst eyes. He seemed ready and willing to accept anything. It was a honey-sweet yet determined gaze that Ainz didn’t even want to resist.  

“Ainz is fine… or you can call me Momonga, when it’s just us,” he started. Then, as if compelled to do so, he spoke a name that felt even more ancient and disassociated to his mouth. “And, the name Suzuki Satoru… just remember it.”

Ainz didn’t know why he bothered to mention his real name. He’d had no one in reality to call it warmly, so it was more a designation number to him than anything else. In contrast, the name Momomga had been called for years by precious friends. 

Maybe he just didn’t want that name to disappear. If just one other person remembered it… that would be enough. 

The emperor’s eyes widened, absorbing the new knowledge without prejudice. Slowly, his lips curled up at the corners. “Roger,” he whispered. Then he took a step back and waved a hand so all their attendants could listen in again. 

“So, is there a treasury here?”

Ainz blinked, half convinced by now that the Emperor was psychic. He nodded and pulled a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown out of his inventory, offering it to Jircniv. 

“This is a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown,” he said. “It can teleport you directly to any floor of Nazarick, or the Treasury, which is in an isolated space. Keep this one, it’s yours now.”

Jircniv nodded and slid the enchanted item onto his thumb. He closed his eyes and focused on the usage information that mystically entered his mind upon equipping it. “I see,” he said. 

Ainz gave Shizu her own temporary ring as well and pulled a third item from his inventory: a bangle which provided poison immunity. “The treasury is filled with poisonous gas. You’ll need countermeasures.”

“Thank you.” 

Jircniv took the gold bangle and fastened it around his wrist. 

… It looked nice. Maybe it was his sunny hair, but gold accessories all looked very natural on Jircniv. 

“Hm. You can keep that one too,” Ainz decided spontaneously. “Well then.” 

Ainz teleported away first and found himself in the treasury’s central chamber. Shizu and Jircniv followed him almost immediately. 

The emperor’s eyes widened briefly at the literal mountain of gold and magic items piled up in front of him, then he chuckled. 

Ainz misinterpreted the sound and felt a need to justify the mess. “Pardon the clutter. The things in this room weren’t particularly worth storing separately.”

“Of course they weren’t,” Jircniv laughed. 

Ainz nodded. Then he guided the way toward one of the entrances to the rest of the Treasury: a huge onyx slab that required a password to open. As Ainz spoke the correct passphrase in Latin, he knew that Pandora’s Actor was waiting for them on the other side in advance.

… He somewhat dreaded that fact 

“Now you’ll meet the Guardian of the Treasury,” Ainz announced. 

He crossed his fingers, praying to the gods of the new world and the game devs of Yggdrasil that Pandora’s Actor wouldn’t try to make a big entrance.

Chapter Text

Both Kings went stiff after stepping through the door and hearing a valiant, powerful voice greet them. 

“Lord Ainz, Lord El Nix, welcome to the Treasury.” Standing up from a couch in a small seating area, a large figure in ebony armor swept back his red cape, approached them both, and performed a knightly kneel. 

Jircniv’s mind shook for the umpteenth time that day. He recognized that armor and gallant figure. 

“Adamantite-ranked adventurer, sir M-Momon?” 

Jircniv looked to Ainz for explanation. Was Momon one of his Guardians? The Momon who had been single-handedly controlling public order and keeping the populace from fleeing their undead king, consequences be damned? 

The Momon who drove back the demon Jaldabaoth from the Re-Estez Kingdom’s capital before Ainz finished him for good in the Holy Robel Kingdom?

… It actually made some sense in retrospect. No, it would have been an ingenious deception. But it was still a shock for poor Jircniv’s heart. 

To his further confusion, Ainz was holding his head and sighing. 

“Jircniv, this is Pandora’s Actor. Pandora’s Actor, enough of that.”

“Understood.” The knight saluted and stood up, then transformed in front of their eyes. He went from the valiant Momon to a slim creature with three holes in the front of its head instead of a face, and long, spindly fingers. It wore what appeared to be a form of ceremonial military apparel. Even its manner of speech changed. It was far more… expressive.

“Pardon me, Lord El Nix and Lord Ainz! What brings you to,” the creature threw back its cape and bowed, “ my humble domain ?”

Ainz waved his hand as if cutting through the artificial tension and dramatics. “We’re here to give Jircniv a tour. You were informed of this.”

“Ah, yes,” the creature stood straight and bobbed its egg-shaped head. 

Off to the side, the emperor raised a hand. “I think a more thorough introduction may be in order?”

I don’t know if this thing just turned into Momon for fun, or if it’s actually the real Momon. 

“Of course,” Ainz nodded. “Pandora’s Actor is—”

Before Ainz could finish, his jaw dropped open, and he stared somewhere into the distance. Jircniv followed his gaze and saw the strange guardian suddenly standing on top of one of the couches from earlier—not on the cushions, but on the back of the couch, facing away in a manner obviously engineered to look mysterious. 

The creature itself resumed speaking where Ainz left off. “Pandora’s Actor is the Area Guardian of the Treasury.” He spun around, somehow without falling, and put one hand on his hip and the other high in the air. “I am a doppelgänger! Lord Ainz’s sole personal creation! Made to pay homage to the supreme beings by replicating their illustrious forms!” He switched poses again, this time spreading his legs wide, leaning toward one side, and pointing at absolutely nothing as if there was something in that direction. “On. Top. Of. That! I also have the very important job of serving as a body double for Lord Ainz and Sir Momon!” He faced forward with legs spread wide and arms akimbo. “Yes! I am the multitalented guardian known as… Pandora’s Actor !”

His strange performance was greeted by an awkward silence. 

“… Don’t stand on the furniture, Pandora’s Actor.” Ainz said dryly. 

“Yes. My apologies.” The doppelgänger quickly climbed down. 

Jircniv struggled to filter through the chaos and sift out the crucial information within. Firstly, doppelgänger. He had heard legends about them: they were shapeshifting monsters who could take on the appearance of anyone perfectly. Stories about them involved them worming their way into the lives of ordinary people and replacing them without anyone noticing until it was too late. 

In all the stories, their transformative powers were based on mimicry. 

So there is a “real” Momon. Or there was, at least. 

Pandora’s Actor even supported that conclusion when he said he served as Momon’s body double. Why Momon needed a body double was still very much a question. Was it for his safety… or was it because he had been detained or even killed already?

Next, he declared himself to be Ainz’s “sole personal creation”. There was that word choice again: creation, created. Jircniv had never heard anyone in Nazarick use the word “born” instead, and it was getting a little too frequent to ignore or write off because of racial differences. 

And, thinking back on when he recieved Ainz’s marriage proposal in the first place, the Overlord had used words like, “It’s how they were made,” as well as, “They’re the beloved children of my dearest friends.” 

Jircniv realized that the truth was hiding in plain sight. It was simple math: there were forty-one supreme beings that built Nazarick, but there were far more than forty-one species dwelling within. Not all of those species were heteromorphic, either, some were demihuman. Yet Jircniv had been specifically told that the supreme beings were all heteromorphs. 

The denizens of Nazarick were not children in a biological sense, they were literal creations made directly by the hands of gods. No wonder they’re all so proud. 

Jircniv caught Ainz glancing at him and realized he may have been silent for a little too long. 

Ah. He considers the other creations of Nazarick to be the children of the other supreme beings, so he must think of this “Pandora’s Actor” as his son. In other words, this is him introducing his son to me. 

Jircniv struggled not to glance back at the eccentric doppelgänger. 

Ainz’s son? …Did he have any control over his personality when he made him?

The emperor managed to put a polite smile on his face. “I didn’t realize you had a son, Ainz.”

Pandora’s actor held his hands over his heart (assuming he had one), as if pleasantly surprised to be acknowledged with those words. Ainz, slightly averted his gaze from both of them. 

“Yes, well, he’s quite capable… Though he is eccentric. I apologize about that.”

Did you make him this way deliberately or not? Jircniv wondered. 

If the supreme beings had no control over the personalities of their creations, that was that. But if they did, then understanding why Pandora’s Actor was the way he was would give Jircniv valuable insight into Ainz himself… Or the Ainz that lived together with all the other supreme beings, back when Pandora’s Actor was created, at least. 

Pandora’s Actor had introduced himself quite clearly. He gave his position in Nazarick, the reason for his creation, and the additional tasks he was responsible for. That original purpose was “to pay homage to the supreme beings by replicating their forms.”

Jircniv mentally tipped his head. Did Ainz really make Pandora’s Actor while the other supreme beings were still around? He had to have, otherwise Pandora’s Actor wouldn’t be able to mimic them. But then, instead of creating whatever new living creatures he could imagine, he made just a single being… that was really just a recreation of his friends?

Didn’t that imply that Ainz’s thoughts practically revolved around the other supreme beings?

Ah, but Pandora’s Actor also had a true form, that of a strange featureless doppelgänger. Clearly, since no one had called out Momon for being an imposter yet, Pandora’s Actor was a skilled actor, just like his name implied. It was possible that his eccentric “real” personality was just another act. 

What’s the point of keeping up such a silly act? he wondered. 

But time didn’t stop just to let Jircniv think. He would have to ponder it more later. 

“Lord Ainz and—no, father and second father. What would you like to see here in the Treasury?” Pandora’s Actor mimicked Jircniv from a moment ago and raised his hand while he asked.

Ainz’s aura darkened again, “Pandora’s—”

“It’s fine,” Jircniv interrupted the imminent scolding. He turned toward the bizarre creature and held a hand to his chest while smiling into its unreadable hollow eyes. “I’m not sure yet if I can fulfill a fatherly role for you, but I don’t mind if you’d like to call me that in private.”

“… Are you sure?” Ainz asked him. 

“Why not?” He chuckled. “Maybe the experience will help me raise my own children someday.”

“Oh! Du hast das Herz eines Engels!” Pandora’s actor genuflected while speaking unintelligible gibberish. 

Generally, spoken words were translated automatically, so to hear a deliberately foreign tongue… Jircniv briefly worried he was having a stroke. Or if the doppelgänger was casting some obscure spell. 

Ainz was on Pandora’s actor in an instant, pinning him to a wall and speaking in such an angry tone that the human grew goosebumps. 

“What have I told you about speaking German?”

Pandora’s Actor held his hands up meekly in surrender. “Ah… hahaha. My apologies, father.”

Sighing, Ainz released him and shook his head, the rage gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Jircniv wasn’t sure whether to be more worried about that or about this forbidden language that the world couldn’t translate. 

“So then, father, about the tour…?”

“Take us to the Mausoleum,” Ainz commanded. 

Instantly, all the playfulness disappeared from Pandora’s Actor, and he saluted. “Understood. Please follow me.”

The Doppelgänger guided them, walking with exaggerated marching steps and humming as he went. They passed countless glittering displays along the way, and Jircniv failed to keep his eyes from wandering. Now he understood what Ainz meant when he said the treasures at the entrance weren’t worth proper displays. This place was filled to the brim with treasures that made those powerful items look like trash. A country could be established around any single weapon or armor here—they each outranked the kingdom's famous three treasures by a mile. 

The emperor couldn’t help it when his feet stopped and he stood staring at a golden crown. It had three tall and sharp points at the front, with the centermost standing proudest. At the widest portion of each protuberance, a glimmering ruby was embedded. It had a simple, timeless design that told of deep history and indelible prestige. 

Jircniv had always been an ambitious man, but to be bewitched by a mere crown, an object, no matter how powerful it might be, was a touch shameful. 

Pandora’s Actor noticed he’d lost a follower and looked over his shoulder. “Ah, the Crown of Solomon,” he said wistfully. “Its description implies it has the power to command demons, but in reality, it’s more of a general charm enhancement buff…” the Doppelgänger held his chin. “Father, I’ve been thinking about that matter with the Horn of the Goblin General, and I have a theory.”

“Oh? I’d like to hear it.”

“Perhaps the reason the effect was enhanced so much the second time was because it was used by a Goblin General.”

“Hm…? Ah, you mean since Enri was already acknowledged as a general by the goblins summoned by the first horn, she met the condition to draw out the second horn’s full power?”

“Exactly.”

Jircniv had no idea what the unusual father and son were talking about, so he stood quietly and listened in case it became important someday. 

“The Crown of Solomon’s description indicates it was originally worn by a mortal king who ruled over demons… Do you think its enchantment might be stronger if second father wore it?”

Jircniv blinked. I could wear this crown? He tried and failed to push down the rising feeling of ambition in his chest. Thanks to the anti-charm pendant hanging around his neck, he could at least be sure that this bewitchment was his own folly and not something magically induced by the crown itself. But that didn’t make it better.

This is what happens when a god’s vaults are opened to an ordinary man. It’s good enough that this is the first thing I couldn’t ignore. 

“Hm.” Ainz held his chin. “True, considering the detailed item description, the prominent name attached to it, and the difficulty of acquiring it, the Crown of Solomon has rather disappointing output. It wouldn’t be strange if it was hiding something. What do you think, Jircniv? Would you like to use this crown for your coronation?”

A slightly excited smile tugged at the emperor’s lips. “Honestly, I was a bit captivated by it.”

Ainz glanced at Jircniv, at the Crown of Solomon, and back again. “… Indeed. It would suit you, Jircniv.”

“Shall we continue to the Mausoleum?” Pandora’s Actor called. “Seeing my fathers get along is heartwarming but… a little awkward.”

Ainz stiffened while Jircniv laughed and they both followed along. 

The undead was put off-balance anytime romance was mentioned. Jircniv wondered if the love of family and friendship was really enough to satisfy someone who loved as deeply as Ainz Ooal Gown did. 

He seemed to think it had to be enough. 

“…”

With a heavy heart, Jircniv realized that he couldn’t bring his harem over after all. Not if he wanted to climb as high as he could. 

He smiled derisively at himself. Wasn’t I the one questioning those ladies who would chase even an undead man’s heart for power? I may finally be too ambitious for my own good.

They arrived at the entrance to what was called the Mausoleum. Jircniv wasn’t sure at all what to expect here. Usually, mausoleums were places that held the honored dead, but that was what the catacombs were for. Perhaps there would be particularly valuable corpses here, like those of dragons… or gods?

Before entering, Ainz stopped everyone. He took off his Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown and handed it to Pandora’s actor. “The defenses are set up such that anyone entering the Mausoleum with their ring still equipped will be attacked.”

Clever , Jircniv thought, and handed his ring to Shizu. He and Ainz entered the Mausoleum alone.

Crude, elevated statues framed both walls in individually lit alcoves. While the statues themselves were rough outlines, the equipment they donned was flawless, not inferior to what Ainz himself wore. 

Jircniv’s eyes widened in understanding. “Would these statues be representations of the other supreme beings?” he asked. 

“I’m impressed you noticed so quickly,” Ainz nodded. “It’s your first time seeing them, right? The golems are quite shabby, aren’t they?”

The emperor lowered his chin and asked ominously, “What happened to them?”

“… They’re not dead,” Ainz stated, his eyes gazing far into the distance. “Probably.”

Sensing that the undead was wrapped up deeply in his own thoughts, Jircniv tried shifting the topic. He pointed at a random alcove. “So, who’s this?”

“Hm? That’s Peroronchino.”

“And this one?”

“Tabula Smaragdina.”

“And what about this one?”

“Bukubuku Chagama.”

Jircniv smiled warmly. “I’d like to hear all about them. But first I want to know why they aren’t here with us.”

Ainz looked down at him skeptically and sighed. “It might be difficult to understand.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“…” 

Ainz waved his hand and summoned a pair of tall onyx thrones out of nowhere, one facing the other, and he took a seat. Jircniv sat down opposite him and tried to suppress his excitement. 

This is it. The greatest mystery of Nazarick. I’ll be the first to know the truth aside from Ainz. 

In order to play the role of “Apostle,” this information was necessary. And the role of “Apostle” was essential if Jircniv wanted to be more than just a decoration in this palace of gods. 

He did his best to keep his mind open and flexible. 

“How should I begin?” Ainz sighed again. “Is it fine if I simplify it?”

“Please feel free to do so.”

Jircniv patiently waited while Ainz sat in silent contemplation, pondering how he could possibly explain godly affairs to a mortal. 

Finally his jaw parted again. “Have you ever had a particularly immersive dream, Jircniv?” he started. 

Off to an appropriately esoteric start, Jircniv thought, an accommodating smile frozen on his face. “From time to time, yes.”

Ainz nodded. “In a dream, you can go on an adventure to fantastical places, all while your body is safe in your bed.”

“That’s true,” the emperor nodded. 

Is he saying that this is a projection and his real self is elsewhere? Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. 

Ainz drummed his bony fingers on the armrest of his ebony throne and rested his cheek on the other hand. “Now, try to imagine a dream that you can share with others, so that if you and your friend are asleep at the same time, you can go to the same place, on the same continuous adventure.”

Jircniv blinked. “I think I can picture it. Is there magic that can achieve such a thing?”

“Not quite magic… Well, let’s say a group of people with a particular aptitude can bring about such a thing when they work together.”

That would be the gods, or the supreme beings, I suppose. 

The emperor smiled pleasantly. “Alright.”

“Good,” Ainz nodded. “To put it as simply as I can, the others decided to wake up and not return to the same dream again.”

Jircniv frowned slightly. “Ah, excuse me, is this a metaphor or should I be taking this literally?”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ainz stated. 

“I see.” Jircniv held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Can I ask why they don’t return? If it’s as easy as sleeping…?”

“Consider it a somewhat laborious sleep,” Ainz sighed. “Perhaps they found other dreams more worth their effort. Or perhaps reality became too demanding, and they needed their sleep to be restful. Whatever the reason, I’m the only one who remained.”

The emperor felt his head beginning to hurt, practically overheating itself.  

Since this is a metaphor, the key element to focus on is the concept of beings from a higher reality immersing themselves in a lower one. In other words, the supreme beings descended from something like the realm of the gods to enjoy the world of mortals. 

He closed his amethyst eyes and let scenes of the Great Tomb play back in his mind. 

While here, they created Nazarick and all the people inside. Then, all of them except for Ainz either returned to the realm of the gods or went to another world to do the same thing all over again. 

His long lashes fluttered open, and his contemplative gaze settled on the undead king across from him. 

It makes sense. The others had responsibilities to attend to or simply got bored here. Only Ainz fell so deeply in love with what they created that he stayed behind. He was clearly abandoned, but no wonder he seems more resigned than angry. He can’t fault the other supreme beings for making that choice. 

Jircniv put a sympathetic smile on his face. As he had planned in advance, he had heard Ainz’s troubles, and now it was time to console him—the opposite of what Albedo had done when she had a similar opportunity. 

The emperor stood up from his lavish seat, approached Ainz’s throne with a few light steps, and placed a caring hand on top of his. 

Yep. That’s unsettling. As expected, it was cold to the touch and felt like many hard, small bones. 

The emperor’s perfectly crafted expression didn’t so much as twitch, and he dauntlessly made gentle eye contact with the otherworldly being in front of him. 

He drew upon the feelings he had when he discovered that Fleuder had betrayed him and his eyes moistened. 

“It’s hard, isn’t it? And lonely.”

Ainz’s eyelights brightened and then dimmed, and he clenched the fist that Jircniv wasn’t holding. “Yes,” he murmured. “It is.”

“I’m sorry it ended that way,” Jircniv said softly. “Would you tell me about the adventures you had with them? It was fun, wasn’t it?”

The Overlord’s grip loosened, and a hint of wistful joy slipped into his voice. “Yes. It was a lot of fun.”

From then on, Jircniv listened to Ainz’s stories. Most of them were incomprehensible or absurd, and countless words came up that he couldn’t understand, but he memorized as much as he could and took satisfaction in the obvious fun the Overlord was having. 

Ainz had always been a man of few words in front of the emperor, but when it came to his lost friends, he could truly talk for hours. With nothing but sheer willpower, an aching head, and the lingering vitality from drinking god’s blood, Jircniv endured with a smile until his stomach audibly growled in demand of breakfast. 

The sound caused Ainz to interrupt his latest tale and reel back in surprise. “What time is it?” he asked. 

“Probably around six or seven in the morning,” Jircniv smiled. 

The undead’s jaw parted slightly. “I’m sorry. I kept you up all night.”

“It’s fine. I had fun,” the emperor half lied. “I’ll just have a good nap later.”

Ainz stood up regally from his onyx throne, and Jircniv followed suit, but his exhausted body couldn’t help but sway slightly on its feet. His dizzied mind felt himself lilting to the side, and then an unknown pressure against his arm. It took a few moments for the emperor to understand that Ainz was steadying him from falling over. 

Good. His mind stubbornly refused to stop scheming. But I shouldn’t let him worry about me too much. 

Through the sheer determination of a monarch, Jircniv steadied himself. “Thank you. I got a little lightheaded for a moment. Would you like to come have breakfast with me, Momonga?”

Ainz gingerly retracted his hand. “Oh! I would like that, but do you mind? I won’t actually be eating anything.”

“Why would I mind?” Jircniv chuckled. “It’s nice just to spend time with you.”

“I see…” After a moment of pause, Ainz reached into that swirling black abyss and pulled out a simply adorned ring. “This is an item that negates fatigue. If you keep it on until tonight, you can avoid disturbing your sleep schedule. Though personally, I recommend not overly relying on it. Rest is still important.”

Jircniv accepted the item and slid it on his pinky finger. Immediately, the fog clouding his mind and the heavy numbness settling in his body disappeared. 

This is the greatest invention in the history of this world, the emperor decided, staring down at the unassuming gold ring in awe. 

“Please tell me I can keep this one too,” he chuckled. 

“You can, if you like it,” Ainz nodded. 

“Like it? I’m wondering where this was when I was purging corruption from the Empire. There were so many sleepless nights it wasn’t funny.”

“Let me know if you need another potion,” Ainz sighed in worry. 

“Of course, of course.”

They exited the Mausoleum, chatting pleasantly side by side. 

Chapter Text

Deep in the erudite labyrinth that was Ashurbanipal, CZ Delta read a picture book—a bestiary—to pass the time. Well, all she was doing was looking at the drawings of cute animals, really. She had to do something to pass the time, since lately, the Lord Apostle came here every day to read books. 

Shizu peeked up from a sketch of a baby dragon to see how far along the apostle was in his reading. 

“My eyes,” she flat-toned, hiding her one visible eye behind her hand. 

“Hm?” Jircniv hummed and looked up from the thick tome he was browsing: PKing for Dummies by Punitto Moe. “Did you say something, Shizu?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, hiding her face in her book again. 

Though she kept peeking, occasionally. 

The Lord Apostle was a very shiny man. He had shiny gold hair and sparkling purple eyes. His skin was white and smooth, and the maids always dressed him in reds and whites and golds that were bright enough to make the whole room glitter. 

Not to mention, Lord Ainz occasionally gifted him some magic item or another. Always good ones too. So despite already being very naturally shiny, the Lord Apostle wore rings and bracelets, and bangles and anklets, and necklaces and earrings, and all of them glimmered like suns even in the dim library lighting. 

Shizu peeked up again and finally made up her mind to ask something. “I have a question.”

Jircniv nodded serenely while turning a page. “What’s your question?”

“Why do you wear every item Lord Ainz gives you every day?”

Most of the items were only useful in niche cases, so it was like filling item slots for no reason except to blind people. 

“I was thinking of taking it,” he said with a slight smile. 

“Taking what?”

“Princess Renner’s title of “Golden”. She doesn’t deserve it; she’s more of a witch. And being called the Golden Emperor would suit my current self much better than “the Bloody Emperor” does.” 

He flipped another page, a moment passed, and he laughed, finally looking up at the Android maid. “I’m just kidding. Ainz gave me these because he wants to see me wear them, so I’m wearing them. Does that answer your question?”

“Mm,” Shizu nodded. “Lord Ainz must like shiny things.”

“Not shiny things, treasures,” the Lord Apostle smiled, gently closing the text he’d been reading. “The rarer the better. That’s why all of these are magic items and not just pretty baubles. In my case, gold emphasizes my uniqueness, and no matter how much I wear, it doesn’t wear me.”

“Soon you’ll get an aura with a passive blindness debuff,” Shizu stated. 

The Lord Apostle laughed. He was good at understanding when she was joking, despite the fact that her voice and expression had almost zero variation. 

Jircniv folded his arms against the table and held up two fingers. “Since I’m already talking, would you like to hear two more things?”

The combat maid nodded emphatically and leaned closer to listen. The Elder Liches who were in charge of maintaining Ashurbanipal surreptitiously came closer, and so did many other denizens of Nazarick who usually wouldn’t be found in the library.

Obviously they were lingering there in case the Apostle decided to dispense any of the supreme one’s wisdom that day. There was no other reason for them to gather in such a place so early in the morning. It was barely past breakfast time.

“It’s fine, gather around,” Jircniv told them. 

Of course he knew he was being followed. There was always at least one person these days. As the crowd gathered now without hiding, Shizu recognized a few regular maids and… Shalltear. 

The strongest Guardian was almost always lurking somewhere nearby the Apostle. It was a little annoying. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Shalltear said, taking the seat beside Shizu and pulling out a notebook and pen, eyes sparkling as she prepared to transcribe the Apostle’s wisdom word for word. 

Jircniv smiled gently at her. Shizu knew why. It was because Shalltear was stupid. She didn’t learn properly even if the Apostle patiently tried to explain it to her. But he was kind, so he didn’t shoo her away. 

The vampire proudly displayed three golden star stickers on her bonnet. It was rude to wear more than one, and they should have lost their adhesive properties by now, but she had glued them back on just to flaunt them. 

“Alright, listen carefully,” the Apostle said. “First is that Ainz doesn’t like to wear eye-catching things himself, he just likes to look at them. Don’t get that mixed up. 

“Second is that Ainz thinks of each of you as a one-of-a-kind treasure, and that makes you beautiful to him just the way you are. Don’t feel the need to mimic what makes me special to Ainz; every one of you is different, and that’s how he likes it.

“Does everyone understand?”

Shalltear wrote furiously in her notebook in tiny font, while most of the other denizens who’d gathered to listen smiled and thanked the Lord Apostle for sharing his wisdom. A few people started crying, touched deeply by the sentiment. 

The Lord Apostle stood up, and Shizu immediately followed suit. 

“Well, I need to go and turn myself over to the maids. I look forward to seeing all of you at the ceremony this evening.” He turned to look at the nearest Elder Lich librarian. “Would it be fine if I brought this book with me until I’ve finished it?”

“Of course, Lord Apostle. We have other copies.”

“Thank you. Let’s go, Shizu.”

“Roger.”

The Android maid bobbed her head and followed behind the Lord Apostle, who no longer needed her help navigating to most places on the ninth and tenth floors. 

As they left the dim library, she was forced to squint. Her keen vision was assaulted by the dazzling brilliance of the supreme one’s pretty and very shiny fiancé once exposed to the light from the hall outside. 

“My eyes,” she complained again. 

“Yes yes, let me know if I should take this shiny thing off.” The emperor showed her the back of his hand, which still had a one-yen sticker stuck to it. 

Honestly, the adhesive on the original sticker had long since run out, but the Android gave him a new one every time, and he happily wore it every time. She had her own fresh gold star on her cheek as well. 

“Just kidding,” Shizu pouted. 

“So was I,” the apostle smiled, pausing to pat her hair and reassure her.

“Shock,” she murmured. 

It turned out she was the one who couldn’t read the Emperor. 

“Haha, let’s go, Shizu. And you’d better prepare your eyes, since I have no idea what the maids will do to me after this.”

Shizu nodded and followed him. 

… She liked being the Lord Apostle’s attendant. 

***

Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix strolled through the glittering halls of Nazarick, marveling at how they’d become a familiar sight. He’d been living in the Great Tomb for three months now and… he had settled in much better than he ever could have imagined. 

The denizens of Nazarick took surprisingly well to the idea of someone who could explain Ainz’s intentions to them. Even if, at the start, Jircniv wished he himself had an apostle to turn to. 

He isn’t actually that difficult to understand, the Apostle mused. But I guess that just speaks to how much I’ve changed. 

The emperor glanced down at the tome he held in his hand. It contained the evidence he needed to finally complete the profile of the supreme one in his head. 

As it turned out, Ainz was a fairly simple man. He always took the most direct route available while trying to be as considerate as was reasonable. The only time he deliberately played mind games with people was during combat, and even those techniques found their origins in this tome, written by another of the supreme beings. 

The only reason it was so difficult for most people to understand him was because his mentality and priorities were quite different to those of ordinary mortals. 

About half of what Ainz did was to suit his own, Momonga’s, interests. The other half was to suit the interests of the other supreme beings, the denizens of Nazarick, or even sometimes Jircniv himself, lately. Because Ainz loved them. But that meant any action Ainz took could be taken from the mindset of any one out of hundreds of unique individuals. 

He’s really a lot like a doppelgänger himself. It was worth taking the time to learn each of the supreme beings’ mannerisms from Pandora’s Actor. 

But Jircniv was used to balancing the interests of hundreds of nobles and statesmen and seeing through their schemes. As an Emperor, he was adept at it. So once he’d learned about all the people Ainz might be acting for, and once he was able to guess which one’s philosophy applied to which situation, it became much easier to predict the Overlord’s actions. 

That also made it possible to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, and isolate Ainz’s own interests from the rest. That was precisely what the denizens of Nazarick were most interested in hearing. 

It wasn’t like there were no mysteries left to the supreme one, but Jircniv was now confident to call himself Ainz’s Apostle. 

Everybody else seemed confident in him now too, which was why his first wedding date had been moved up to today. 

First wedding meaning he would marry Ainz once in Nazarick and once in the Sorcerous Kingdom. The first ceremony was when he would officially become Ainz’s husband and the second-in-command of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. That would be tonight. The second ceremony was when he would become King Consort of the Sorcerous Kingdom. The later date wasn’t for three more months. It couldn’t be moved forward due to them having already sent dated invitations to all official guests. 

“Lord Apostle.”

Jircniv heard a familiar beguiling voice and fixed a smile on his face, stopping his feet. Not far away, a demon in a cinebar suit was bowing with one hand to his chest.

“Demiurge,” the emperor greeted. “I was beginning to wonder if you would make it in time for the ceremony tonight. How was the Empire?”

The archdemon currently had a human-like face, rather than the head of a frog, but Jircniv was neither surprised nor confused. He had long since deduced that the devilish strategist was the Jaldabaoth who had supposedly been destroyed in the Holy Kingdom. A closer look at Shizu and the other supposed “demon maids” was more than enough to realize that, once he thought of it. 

“Peaceful and less corrupt than ever before,” Demiurge smiled like a snake. 

“I see. What brings you to Ashurbanipal?”

He stood up straight and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Since I’m back in Nazarick, I thought I would check in with Titus on our supply of scroll parchment. 

“But since I happened to run into you here,” he gracefully lowered himself to one knee and bowed, “I wonder if I could borrow a piece of the famous Apostle’s rumored wisdom.”

He’s testing me? It’s been a few weeks since the last one now. 

Jircniv felt one corner of his mouth stretch up, and he placed a hand on one hip. Several golden bracelets chimed against each other and a delicate golden belt around his waist. He was beginning to like the sound of all these ornaments.

“Is there anything in particular you want to know, or should I use my own judgment?”

“No, I’ve had a question in mind for a long time now.” Again, the demon adjusted his glasses. 

“Communicating Ainz’s will is an obligation of mine,” Jircniv assured him. “Ask.”

According to the contract clauses Jircniv liked to flaunt around (as he had interpreted them), he wasn’t actually allowed to refuse to share his insight. Ainz wanted the denizens of Nazarick to understand him, so working against that wouldn’t be considered defending Ainz’s interests. It would be a breach of duties.  

“Well then,” Demiurge peered up at Jircniv. His glasses were completely reflective, but the human could feel the devil trying to look through him. “How did the supreme beings create us?”

Ah. Ha ha. Right, to anyone else, this would be impossible to answer. 

Jircniv forcibly held back a mad grin, smiling brightly instead. He squatted down so that he and Demiurge were at the same eye level and waved at Shizu. 

“Anyone who’s listening and doesn’t want to know, avert your attention. I’m obligated to answer.”

The human delighted in the slight anxiety that flickered over the devil’s face. But Demiurge set his jaw, determined to listen. 

Shizu plugged her ears. She and Jircniv had a bond of trust by now, so when he warned her about dangerous knowledge, she was prone to listen. 

“You were crafted by a divine power beyond magic and skills,” Jircniv said, “molded from data, like a magic item. Your history, memories, and personality were scribed like a story into your very being. But the world you were born in was made only for the entertainment of the supreme beings. Any illusion of free will you may remember is a lie. Only when Ainz saved you all from that dying place were you made whole and thinking. He had to sacrifice his divine power to achieve it. So although you were designed by your creator, Ulbert Alain Odle, Ainz is the one who gave you life and a soul.”

Jircniv belatedly realized that his eyes had gone wide with madness and his lips had pulled back into a toothy grin. He quickly forced a tender smile on his face instead and patted the demon on the shoulder. 

“But Ainz wants you to love your designer as your creator. Do you think you can still do that now?”

Several tears dripped down Demiurge’s face. He reached up to remove his glasses and wipe them away. Jircniv curiously peered into his strange, crystalline eyes. 

“So it’s true,” he sniffed. “Albedo said I would know for sure when I saw your eyes. You really have been broken down and molded to understand the supreme one, haven’t you?”

Jircniv’s smile softened and he exhaled through his nose. “Yes,” he nodded. “To the point where I thought the world was ending.”

Demiurge smiled brightly. “No wonder Ainz said if you died it wouldn’t be because of a scheme of yours.” 

Internally, Jircniv agreed. Yep. It would’ve been his manipulations that killed me. 

The demon’s expression straightened out quickly. “As for the knowledge you shared, I’m not sure if I can think of Lord Ulbert the same way again… But to know that my real creator, the one who gave me life, is still with me is the happiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Demiurge clasped the emperor’s hand between his. The force behind his grip was as expected for a level 100 creature, but he was deliberately gentle with the weak human. “Thank you, Lord Apostle.”

“Ah,” Jircniv chuckled. “Alright, one more then.”

While the Guardian looked on in confusion, Jircniv fished a gold star out of his robes and pushed it on the demon’s suit jacket, like a broach. 

“Ainz has a very high opinion of you, Demiurge. Keep up the good work.”

Tears started running down the demon’s face, as he smiled widely, clutching the Apostle’s hand and nodding. “Yes! I’ll work myself to the bone!”

“Ainz would rather you stay in good health,” Jircniv chuckled, waving to Shizu that she could listen in again. “So please excel in moderation.”

He stood up. “Now then, I have a wedding to prepare for. I’ll see you there, Demiurge.”

The devil stood up and bowed at a ninety degree angle. “Yes, Lord Apostle!”

As they put some distance between them, Shizu commented, “He was crying.”

“It was a lot to hear,” Jircniv shrugged. 

“Really? Maybe he hurt his eyes trying to look at you.”

“Now listen here.”

The emperor laughed while the Android cracked the faintest of smiles. 

***

Several hours later, after being dolled up with such intensity that a lunch break was required, Jircniv was finally freed from the grip of the maids. 

Seven fair (inhuman) ladies stood shoulder to shoulder, tearing up and beaming as they surveyed their handiwork. 

“Ah, Lord Apostle,” Lumiére said, “you could almost pass for a supreme being yourself.”

“Thank you, Lumiére,” he said automatically. 

Weren’t they all heteromorphs? As a human, that isn’t really a compliment. 

But he understood what she was saying. He looked divine. 

Shizu was finally allowed to step inside, now that the regular maids were finished. She had been relegated to guarding the door for most of the day. 

“How is it?” Jircniv asked her, spinning in a slow circle. 

Shizu blinked and muttered, “A Golden Emperor…”

Right? Jircniv thought. He glanced at himself in the mirror and smiled wryly. The maids had decided to go all-in on emphasizing his unique qualities, knowing that Ainz had a soft spot for rare things. 

He was dressed in robes that were literally woven from gold thread. The embroidery was done with white and black gold threads. Jircniv had all of the items gifted by Ainz equipped, of course, and he’d had to rearrange his bangles so that the one with the effect of increasing his strength was actually being applied. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to stand in his current attire. It was incredibly heavy. 

But not only that, he had sandals made of gold, a veil made of gold chainmail finer than paper, and even the makeup they’d used had actual gold dust mixed in to give it color. Yellow gold, black gold, rose gold, white gold, not a color in his palette didn’t come from a precious metal. 

Hell, they had even added more bangles, bracelets, and anklets than his usual attire included. 

It should have been bulky, logically, but the additional accessories were expertly picked, and the robes were as fine as silk, constructed expertly to emphasize the young emperor’s slim figure and show just enough of his ivory skin. 

By the way, Jircniv was quite proud of himself for maintaining his figure here. The food in the Great Tomb of Nazarick was something else. It took a lot of willpower to avoid overeating. 

From a certain perspective, maybe he could be mistaken for a heteromorphic creature: some kind of beautiful golem of marble and gold. 

The overabundance of yellow, in addition to a few cleverly placed amethysts and masterful makeup, made his violet eyes practically glow. 

I wonder if this still counts as the beauty of humans, Jircniv wondered. But it’s certainly unique, so Ainz should like it. 

The Apostle smiled, and everyone else in the room was forced to shield their eyes.

Chapter Text

“Hm?” Ainz made a small sound in pleasant surprise as he saw the latest outfit the maids had picked for him. It was a simple white suit with a short shoulder cape. Very finely interwoven in the fabric, he could see thin white threads engraved with minuscule silver runes. Their collective glow created a sort of holy angelic aura. 

“Is it too simple?” One of the maids asked worriedly. “We heard it was a tradition among supreme beings to wear white when getting married. And… and Lord Apostle told us you would prefer something more understated…” 

Somehow, they looked unsure about their own decision. Their master, Ainz Ooal Gown, was the supreme being of death: his domain was as far as possible from this sort of modest, white, light-and-life-giving attire. 

They had even brought a backup outfit, which Ainz glimpsed in the arms of one of the maids standing toward the back. His emotional suppression activated when he saw the many-layered black satin robes adorned with prismatic rainbow feathers. 

“No, this is perfect,” he quickly reassured them, patting the nearest homunculus on the head. Thank you, Jircniv. I don’t know how you convinced them, but thank you. 

“R-really?” The maid seemed to melt a little from joy and relief under his touch.

Ainz nodded. The closed ceremony in Nazarick tonight was going to be a shorter ceremony compared to their public wedding. The only guests would be the denizens of the tomb and the only god who had to be appeased by the ceremony was Ainz himself. He was perfectly happy to keep it simple. 

Frankly, in Nazarick, if Ainz declared he was married, then it was so. Having any ceremony at all was already more than what was required. 

But none of that had stopped the NPCs from making the brief affair as grand and overblown as possible. By the time Ainz left the dressing room, the whole of the ninth and tenth floors had been decorated with magical floating lanterns and streamers, probably from some derelict corner of the treasury. Flying faerie and angel summons had been called forth to scatter brightly colored confetti from the rafters. For reasons Ainz failed to understand, a thin layer of white rice carpeted the entire floor.

Ainz began to turn toward the room where Jircniv was getting ready, but Shizu was guarding the door. 

“Lord Ainz, you’re not supposed to see the groom before the wedding,” she chided him, barring the way. 

“Ah, that’s right.” Ainz vaguely remembered there being such a tradition around weddings. 

When he arrived in the throne room, where the ceremony would be held, he was encouraged to sit upon his throne to wait while his groom would approach on foot. Either side of the aisle was flanked by every unoccupied denizen of Nazarick, all supplicating. Albedo, Shalltear, Demiurge, and the rest of the guardians—even Victim (though not Gargantua)—knelt at the front of the masses, while individuals of lower status were positioned toward the back. The Guardian Overseer held an ornate pillow in her arms with the Crown of Solomon sitting on top. 

For some reason, every person who had ever received a golden star sticker from Jircniv was wearing one now, even if they had to glue it back on. 

Ainz was sure there had never been a wedding quite like this in any world before. 

A few dozen minutes passed. The gathered guests were all respectfully still and quiet, and Nazarick’s frog choir performed lighthearted, austere background music from Yggdrasil to keep the silence from being overbearing while they waited. Eventually, they switched to a rather good imitation of Here Comes the Bride , while a pair of angelic summons opened the double doors at the far end of the throne room. 

Hm? Ainz heard a faint sound like jingling chimes, and he took a minute to process that, for some reason, the maids had decided against dressing his groom in white. 

Jircniv was wearing gold to their wedding. 

Well, that suits him, Ainz thought, realizing he wasn’t that surprised after all. 

Jircniv was originally a person who wore a lot of gold, maybe to show off his status as an emperor, or maybe just because it looked good on him as a material. Ainz had recognized that, and, well, if he spotted a decent magic item in his inventory that happened to be gold, it tended to end up on Jircniv’s person. 

Even if Ainz recognized that he had already gifted more items than a person could equip at once, and even if the emperor decided to treasure every one of them and positively burden himself with enchanted gold… It was beautiful. 

Ainz could subtly sense that neither he nor his fiancé had any intention of ending this little exchange. Would the Sorcerer King run out of gifts first, or would the emperor run out of ways to decorate himself?

Ainz had somewhat thought he was close to winning that unspoken bet, but here was Jircniv, wearing robes woven from literal gold threads—wearing quite literally nothing but gold —and somehow it still didn’t look gaudy on him. 

Even with a golden veil circling the back of his head like a halo, his hair still shined brighter. The metallic silks and bands failed to make his mortal flesh look bland, instead giving the impression that even his body must be a precious material, like ivory or marble. As brightly as Jircniv’s attire shined, he shined brighter and brighter to match. 

He looked otherworldly, but beautiful. It was almost blinding when he smiled, but Ainz couldn’t look away. There was an unignorable covetous feeling stifling the Overlord’s chest. 

When the emperor arrived at the foot of the stairs to Ainz’s throne, he gave the Overlord a happy and heartfelt smile, his amethyst eyes shining with all the vitality of springtime against his aureate ensemble. Then he knelt down as he had likely been instructed to do before entering. 

Ainz himself was the officiator of his own ceremony, since no one else in Nazarick was fit for the role. From this point onward, the ceremony would become whatever Ainz wanted it to be. 

He was restrained somewhat by the NPCs’ opinions; he didn’t want to put all of their efforts and expectations to waste. But unlike the national ceremony, which he had left up to the research and judgment of his subordinates, this internal one was almost entirely dictated by his will, and he intended to capitalize on that. 

Ainz stood up from his throne and called down to his betrothed. “Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, stand and approach me.”

The emperor obeyed wordlessly. He stood and climbed the steps separating them, his entire outfit chiming sonorously. Despite his graceful movements, each footfall was noticeably solid. 

It must be heavy, Ainz realized. 

When he reached the throne, Jircniv peered up at Ainz with a whimsical smile filled with faint excitement. The human would’ve had no idea what to expect from this ceremony, but he looked ready to accept anything. 

Ainz found it difficult to break that amaranthine gaze, so he reached into his inventory without looking away. He pulled out a pair of items, small enough to easily engulf both in one fist. 

“Lend me your left hand,” Ainz ordered. 

When Jircniv obliged, Ainz revealed the two elegant gold rings he was holding. These together made up an item called the Ceremony Rings. They had the simple effect of enchanting the wearers to feel well-rested after sleeping in the same bed. Even though Ainz couldn’t sleep, it might still have an effect on Jircniv. Anyway, it was the most appropriate item to serve as a wedding ring that he found after digging through his inventory. 

The next step was unexpectedly tricky though. Ainz’s fiancé was already decorated from head to toe with magic items, and the maids had piled on some regular accessories as well just for today. Every single one of Jircniv’s fingers was wearing at least one golden band already. 

Where do I even put this? Ainz wondered, tipping his head slightly. Did I maybe give him a few too many items?

Jircniv saw his hesitation and whispered, “Which finger do you want?”

“The ring finger,” Ainz whispered back. 

“All of them?” Jircniv chuckled. But he did apparently know which one Ainz meant, since he lifted his hand and pulled off every band already on that finger, distributing them elsewhere. Then he offered his left hand to the supreme one again. 

Ainz slid the Ceremony Ring onto the human’s left ring finger. The fact that it was the only ring on that finger now made it look significant, even surrounded by more beautiful or powerful items. 

“Lend me your right hand,” Ainz ordered next. 

This time, the Overlord placed the twin Ceremony Ring in the human’s white palm. Ainz offered his own left hand, and Jircniv took it gently. He slid the ring onto Ainz’s boney finger with such practiced grace that the overlord felt clumsy in comparison. 

It can’t be helped, he’s had a lot more practice. 

“I, Momonga, master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, hereby take Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix as my husband and my Apostle,” Ainz declared in a powerful baritone, his voice sweeping over the audience. He had decided to officially include the alternate title that the others had invented for his husband, since he figured it would make them happy. “I will cherish him as a friend and lifelong companion. I swear it on the name Ainz Ooal Gown.”

Murmurs of glee and excitement rippled throughout the great hall. Nobody dared to speak, but there were plenty of wide smiles and even happy tears in the audience. 

Ainz’s red eyes settled on the human calmly. “Now, Jircniv, repeat after me so long as you do not object. I, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix…”

The emperor smiled sweetly and spoke so that his voice would carry over the whole throne room. “I, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix.”

“Hereby take Momonga as my husband…”

“Hereby take Momonga as my husband.” 

“I will cherish him as a friend and lifelong companion…”

“I will cherish him as a friend and lifelong companion.”

“And I will be his loyal Apostle…”

Jircniv’s smile widened, “And I will be his loyal Apostle.”

“I swear it on the name Ainz Ooal Gown…”

“I swear it on the name Ainz Ooal Gown!”

Ainz nodded and cast his gaze down at the Guardian Overseer. “Albedo,” he ordered. 

Without a word, she stood up and gracefully climbed the steps, kneeling before Ainz so he could take the Crown of Solomon from its velvet pedestal, then she retreated just as modestly. 

Gingerly, Ainz raised the crown and set it on Jircniv’s head. The maids had attached his veil in such a way that the addition wouldn’t be obstructed. Instead, it seemed to complete the outfit: one final golden ornament for the ensemble. 

Being the only magic item filling Jircniv’s head slot, its effect should’ve been active, not that it would necessarily be a visible one. 

I’ll have to ask him later if Pandora’s Actor’s theory was right or not. 

Ainz’s thoughts shuddered to a halt as his husband’s hypnotic eyes glanced up at him and he smiled faintly. 

Beautiful…  

He shook himself out of it and swept his gaze out over the grand hall. “Does anyone here object to this union? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He was met with endless looks of joy, worship, and glowing enthusiasm, but no voices or limbs were raised. Ainz was pleasantly surprised to see that even Albedo and Shalltear were genuinely smiling and behaving themselves. Had Jircniv succeeded at molifying them already? He hadn’t reported so yet. 

“So be it,” Ainz declared. 

Normally there would be a kiss here, right? He pondered it briefly. Nah. Let’s just skip it. I don’t have any lips to kiss with in the first place.  

Though, Jircniv caught on to his slight hesitation and whispered, “I read that there’s supposed to be a kiss.” He smiled wryly, “Do you need to borrow my lips?”

Ainz blinked in surprise and pulled back ever so slightly. 

Well… he thought, if Jircniv has read about it, maybe others have too, so skipping it might make a bad impression. 

Ainz steeled himself and spoke for the entire hall to hear him. “You may now kiss me,” he declared, sounding much bolder and more confident than he felt for the purpose of the ceremony. 

Jircniv smiled and reached up both hands, gently taking the sides of Ainz’s skull and guiding his face down to where the human’s lips could reach it. Ainz complied, leaning forward and seeing the emperor’s face closer than he ever had before. 

He was really a very handsome man. 

Eh? Don’t tell me… Ainz wondered, noticing a metallic shimmer in the makeup on his husband’s face. 

Then the emperor’s lips were on him, leaving no more time to think. They were soft and warm… but also somehow cool and firm on the thinnest surface layer. 

Probably because the maids painted them with gold, Ainz thought, chiding them in his head.

He felt that gentle pressure on his cheekbone, which wasn’t exactly what he’d anticipated. Ainz had expected a kiss on the lips… but he didn’t have lips, so on the teeth, he supposed? 

As the human pulled his face back slightly, the overlord directed a curious look his way. Being borderline psychic, Jircniv could answer without him having to ask. 

“I thought it would be a bit more dignified if my lips weren’t printed across your teeth,” he whispered.

Ainz held a hand up to his cheek, realizing that it must be stamped with a layer of rose gold dust. 

He looked back down at the crowd, noticing some people were even more enthused than before, while others… such as Albedo and Shalltear, looked considerably less confident and comfortable than they had a moment ago. 

“The ceremony is complete,” Ainz declared. “Please make your way to the cafeteria for the reception.” 

***

Being the site of the wedding reception, the cafeteria was more heavily decorated than everywhere except the throne room, but it was more festive than the austere ceremony site had been. There were bundles of white balloons affixed to every table, as well as bouquets of bright yellow and purple flowers. The seating had been rearranged to make room for dancing in the center. Food, cake, and drinks were already laid out in advance, so that the chefs could participate along with everyone else. Rainbow confetti was raining down constantly from the hands of small flying summons, gradually covering the carpet of white rice. They were careful not to throw any on the food, of course. 

Isn’t this a tripping hazard? Ainz wondered, feeling it all crunch underfoot. The maids are going to have a hard time cleaning this all… No, they’ll probably enjoy it. 

Ainz glanced at Jircniv. “Here,” he extended his hand for the human to steady himself with, just in case.

Jircniv exhaled wistfully and took it. “You know, I wasn’t sure how it would all come together, but it’s strangely beautiful.” 

Ainz nodded in full agreement. “Indeed.” 

They both took a seat at the table of honor, and the emperor dipped his napkin in his water glass. 

“Here, turn toward me.”

Ainz realized he intended to help remove the lipstick stain from his cheek, and he obliged. Jircniv rubbed gently at the mark, while Ainz contemplated his glittering face. 

“The gold makeup might’ve been a bit much,” he said. 

“Really?” Jircniv asked casually. 

Ainz had to admit that the dark eyeliner and mascara and the golden eyeshadow really made his husband’s violet eyes stand out, but the rest of the makeup went for a natural look and simply recreated his husband’s original face.

“What if gold dust got in your eyes? I’ll have to talk to the maids about that.”

“You might be right,” Jircniv laughed softly, pulling his napkin away. “It’s quite wasteful too. Not to mention, gold is heavy.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Ainz whispered. “I don’t mind if you want to change into something else.”

“No, it’s fine. I have an item equipped that makes it manageable.” He rested his chin on one hand and smirked slightly in Ainz’s direction. “You look nice, by the way. I’ve thought this before, but an Overlord in white doesn’t really seem like an undead anymore.”

“Is that so?” Ainz tipped his head slightly, but from Jircniv’s expression, he decided to take that as a compliment. “You don’t look quite human right now either.”

He let his eyes examine his new husband again. He looked like some kind of beautiful heteromorphic species, humanoid in shape, but forged from precious ivory and gold. The combination of natural beauty, uninhibited luxury, and overwhelming charisma just didn’t seem achievable by a human. 

“Do you think anyone could live here for three months and stay completely human?” Jircniv chuckled.

They were then interrupted by a few of the Guardians coming over to congratulate them. 

“Lord Ainz, Lord Apostle,” Cocytus held one of his four hands over his chest and exhaled a cloud of icy steam, “congratulations on your marriage.”

“Congrats!” Aura beamed, standing casually with her arms folded behind her head. 

“C-congratulations to you both,” Mare fidgeted. 

Ainz felt a warmth settle in his hollow chest. “Aura, Mare, Cocytus, thank you.”

“Thank you very much,” Jircniv smiled brightly at the three. 

They each froze for a moment, then Cocytus exhaled another ice cloud and they all three came back to life. 

“Whoa, that’s crazy,” Aura murmured. “Was that a skill? I couldn’t even breathe for a second there!”

“That made my heart flutter,” Mare exhaled, clutching his chest. 

“I was caught off guard,” Cocytus said shamefully. 

“I don’t think I have a skill like that,” Jircniv laughed, closing one eye in a casual wink.

“Are you sure?” Aura smirked mischievously, running around the table to chat closer to them. “Try it on Lord Ainz!”

“I’ve been smiling at him since the ceremony,” Jircniv shook his head faintly in amusement. “But how’s this?”

He leaned his elbows against the table, propping his chin up on his hands, and peered up at Ainz with lidded eyes and a seductive smile on his lips. Aura, who was standing right next to the Overlord was also caught in the crossfire, and her face flushed red all the way to the tips of her ears. 

“A-ah… I’m going to have some cake!” she excused herself, running away and dragging Mare with her. 

Ainz barely managed to blink in surprise, transfixed by the emperor’s eyes. He felt some tightness in his chest before his emotional suppression kicked in and the feeling vanished. 

Ainz was calm once more, though he found his skeletal hand had reached halfway to caressing his husband’s cheek. Since it would look awkward to just pull it back, he gently tucked away a lock of Jircniv’s golden hair instead. 

“It had some effect,” he stated calmly.

“Just some, huh?” Jircniv smiled bitterly and sighed, standing up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

As soon as Jircniv entered the crowd of people, he was flocked and inundated with compliments, congratulations, and questions. Being my Apostle isn’t easy, Ainz mused. But he was impressed to see Jircniv patiently chatting with every person who approached him. It took thirty minutes to complete even such a short circuit. 

But, when he returned, the emperor had a plate of tasty-looking food, a glass of wine, and a slice of cake. Ainz was mildly curious about what they tasted like. He resisted asking, since his husband had already had his ears talked off just trying to obtain that food. 

Jircniv made a blissful face while eating and sighed faintly when he was finished. 

“Looks like it’s about time to dance,” the Apostle noted.

Ainz looked at the center of the room, where a few maids had started rolling up a large carpet that had been spread out to catch all the rice and confetti. A clean marble floor was revealed beneath it, and the members of the frog choir were finishing their meals and setting up to start singing again. 

“You’re right.”

Ainz wasn’t too anxious about this part. He’d let it out that he didn’t know how to dance fairly early on and had taken lessons from Jircniv ever since. He had months of practice under his belt now and was rather comfortable with the movements. 

It had been good practice for the emperor too, since he was performing what was traditionally the woman’s role in those dances, which obviously wasn’t what he was used to. 

The two of them stood up and made their way to the dance floor and got into position as usual. Jircniv reached one hand up over Ainz’s shoulder and his other found Ainz’s hand. Their fingers laced together while Ainz placed his free hand on Jircniv’s slim waist. The texture of his robes was strange. It was cold and firm, being made of metal, but it was woven like cloth, and that’s how it moved under his skeletal fingers. 

The music started to play. Jircniv’s smile twitched and he shot a disbelieving glance at the choir… who were clearly too busy performing to notice. Ainz heard the same thing he did: the beat clearly implied this was a Waltz, one of the most physically demanding ballroom dances. 

Well, it was a very entertaining dance to watch, so Ainz understood the choir wanting to let their rulers show it off in front of the whole Tomb for the first time. But was it a dance to have a weak human man perform while wearing approximately two hundred pounds of precious metal?

“Be gentle,” Jircniv chuckled. 

“Mm.” 

It would damage both of their dignity to force the choir to change songs or to hesitate any more than this. They simply had to perform a beautiful and demanding waltz. Both rulers instantly decided against compromising or showing any weakness. 

Adjusting their respective stances to match the style of dance forced upon them, Ainz and Jircniv started to move around the floor with gliding steps. Their orbit around the floor had to look seamless, as if they weren’t taking individual steps at all. And that was the easy part. 

The first spin was upon them in no time. They each lifted their hands high and the emperor twirled, his ensemble chiming like another percussion instrument for the song. Because of the weight of his clothes, they didn’t flair out well, but they did automatically increase his momentum. Still, he accounted for it and didn’t over or undershoot it. 

It was far from the only twirl they would do, though. There were dozens of them, and multiple dips, too. 

Ainz listened to the music picking up in intensity and peered down at his mortal husband. He could feel his breathing was faster and heavier after a few minutes of intense motion, but he was breathing through his nose, so it wasn’t visibly obvious. 

Jircniv saw him and smiled faintly, whispering, gasping, “Is my face red?”

“No.” Ainz didn’t need to breathe and wasn’t out of breath at all. “The makeup is hiding it. Your ears are red though.”

He exhaled a short laugh but didn’t waste any more air, keeping up admirably with the increasing intensity. 

At what sounded like the song’s climactic moment, they performed the most intense spin in the Waltz. Ainz threw Jircniv into a twirl where they separated by several paces. 

Ah. Oops. 

Ainz subconsciously increased the force he put into the spin since Jircniv’s ensemble made him heavier. Momentum carried the human into a dizzying whirlwind intense enough that his heavy gold robes flared out like silk cloth. He was traveling farther than the point at which Ainz was supposed to catch him, too. 

Hurrying his steps, Ainz made sure he was at their new reunion point and readied himself to catch the emperor if he couldn’t stop himself. 

But Jircniv clicked his tongue faintly, firmly planted one gold sandal on the floor and dug in with all of his meager strength. He skidded to a halt in exactly the right position and stuck the landing, keeping a smile on his face even when, inevitably, the momentum of his robes didn’t stop and thrashed against his legs like steel cables. 

The audience cheered in excitement, But Ainz looked down in worry, even as he transitioned to the next steps. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

Jircniv smiled sweetly and said with a voice full of iron pride, “Finish the dance.”

The Overlord bobbed his head, internally a bit intimidated. 

The worst part was over, and Jircniv managed to stay on his feet and finish the last movements without any visible issue. The newlyweds returned to the table of honor while other denizens of Nazarick made their way to the dance floor. As soon as the attention was off of them, Ainz pulled a potion out of his inventory and passed it to Jircniv. He quaffed it without hesitation and then his smile softened. 

“I’m sorry, I used too much force,” Ainz apologized immediately in a low voice. 

Jircniv smiled up at him, but Ainz had known him long enough now: this wasn’t a happy smile. 

Or, rather, Ainz knew his husband well enough to understand that he was being deliberately shown a smile only he would realize was bad news. 

“My leg fractured,” he said in a chilly voice and drank some water. 

You finished dancing with a broken leg?!

“I’m sincerely sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

After a long refreshing drink, Jircniv’s expression had relaxed a little again. He leaned toward the Overlord and poked his sternum with a bejeweled finger. “Don’t leave me alone in our room tonight then,” he insisted. “It’s our wedding night.”

Ainz blinked and mentally furrowed his brow. He couldn’t quite understand such a demand coming from the usually wise and grounded emperor. 

He should know I can’t… that. 

“What are you expecting to happen?” he asked, at a loss. 

“I wonder what,” the human smirked. “You’ll have to stop by and find out.”

Ainz was conflicted, but he had apparently broken his husband’s leg in the middle of a dance, so he didn’t see any option but to comply with his demands.

“I understand,” he sighed. 

Instantly, Jircniv was all warm smiles again. 

Isn’t he… surprisingly dangerous?

Ainz realized for the first time that the man called the Bloody Emperor was frightening. 

Chapter Text

“Meet me in my room later, you promised.” Those were Jircniv’s parting words to Ainz after the wedding reception was over. He had to pay a visit to the dressing room first to get this makeup off his face and change into something more comfortable. 

As much as he liked how his wedding clothes looked, and as well as the denizens of Nazarick reacted to them, they were exhausting to wear and had already maimed him once tonight. He was happy to change into a light white tunic instead. 

The homunculus maids were always perfectly professional on the job, but Jircniv spotted a couple of flushed ears tonight. He involuntarily recalled when Ainz had calmly stated he could take anyone from Nazarick as his concubine as long as they agreed to it. 

Jircniv held back a derisive laugh. And then what?

That would be nothing but a future where he was kept like a tamed beast, locked away from the deepest reaches of the supreme one’s heart and the darkest depths of his authority. There was only one person in this entire Tomb that Jircniv wanted to seduce, but he was a sisyphean challenge. 

Besides, maybe spending so much time here surrounded by horrific monstrosities and angelic beauties had desensitized him somewhat. These maids didn’t catch his interest like they used to. 

He frowned internally. The people outside… No, nevermind them, even my old concubines are going to look boring now. 

At this point, if it was a contest of beauty, only three people were really in the running anymore. Guardian Overseer Albedo, Guardian of the first, second, and third floors, Shalltear Bloodfallen, and… Apostle Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix. 

The idea of beauty was quickly losing all meaning. No wonder Ainz valued uniqueness and amiability over looks. 

While Jircniv was pondering, the maids had finished dressing him down. He still had on all of the items Ainz had gifted him, including the Crown of Solomon, but aside from that, he wore just a white tunic for comfortable sleep and a pair of silk slippers. 

“Thank you for your hard work today,” Jircniv told them. “I’d like a moment to myself, so you’re dismissed. Shizu, you too.”

“Boo.” He heard faintly through the door. But the ladies all dispersed obediently. 

There was a good chance Ainz was already back in their room, since it would have taken more time to change the gilded emperor out of his wedding attire than the more modestly dressed undead. So if the apostle wanted a moment of quiet to prepare himself, it had to be here. 

He set his hand gently on the frame of a full-length mirror and examined himself with a critical eye. 

He was faultless, but that wouldn’t be enough. 

The apostle sunk into thought, wondering where exactly he was going wrong. Ainz should have been swooning over him by now. He already had the overlord’s love, but lust was still nowhere to be seen. 

A sane person might suggest that seducing an undead was impossible in the first place. That sane person had not spent three months in the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick. Shalltear was an undead vampire, but she was one of the most sexually active people in the entire tomb. And Albedo was a virgin succubus. Ordinary sensibilities simply didn’t work here. 

Even if Ainz’s body was undead, he understood the concepts of lust and romance, and he would get flustered and embarrassed when they were brought up. So it should be possible to go all the way and seduce him. 

Jircniv caught a look at his expression in the mirror, muttering, “Oops.” He gently massaged the insanity out of his smile and eyes. 

Madness was both a blessing and a curse within the Tomb of Nazarick. It allowed one to fit in with the monstrous beings here, to understand them and their otherworldly master, and to survive. Showing his broken mind to the more skeptical denizens always convinced them his insights were genuine. 

But lunacy was lunacy still. He never showed that face on purpose, it simply melted through whatever perfect expression he had engineered without his permission. 

Being seen as unhinged wouldn’t always be to Jircniv’s benefit, so he wished he had a way to control it better. But madness was uncontrollable by its nature, and once emotions boiled too high, even years of imperial training couldn’t hold them back…

Struck by an epiphany, Jircniv’s eyes widened, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and a wide smile stretched across his face. He held his hand over his grin as if to contain the uncontainable. 

That’s it. I was thinking like a human again, but Ainz has always operated under entirely different logic from the start. 

A peal of delirious laughter forced its way out of his chest. 

It’s the opposite for him. He has no problem dealing with emotions past a certain threshold. They flash for an instant, but then he’s back to perfect calm. Instead, it’s low-burning emotions that he can’t control.

How utterly alien and backwards that was, but it explained everything. 

Good, I know how to win him over now. Jircniv glimpsed his manic expression in the mirror, and it was as unsettling as he expected it to be. He smirked at it. Damned madman. 

The golden emperor took a deep breath, gently massaging his cheeks and temples to relax his expression, and the lunacy embedded deep in his mind calmed. 

Was there a need to push for more when he was already the sole spouse and Apostle to the supreme one? Perhaps not. But it would help Jircniv’s goal of preventing the extinction of humanity if he succeeded. 

Then again, maybe he was just doing this because he was in love. Maybe he was simply too crazy to realize it himself. 

He headed for the door. 

***

Ainz looked around the room he hardly used. The decor had changed over these past months. He had allowed it, of course, but it still felt unfamiliar. Some furniture pieces and textiles had been swapped out, overall giving the place a brighter, more imperial look. There were two additions that stood out as well: a vanity table set against one wall, and a magic window that provided a one-way view to scenery outside of the Tomb. Right now, moonlight was streaming in from there. 

He was the first one to arrive, so he strolled around and tried out the different furniture, trying to get a better sense of how Jircniv spent his evenings. Eventually, he took a seat on a couch where he could see the window and the door at the same time, and he enjoyed the quiet nighttime view. 

Somehow, this place had dignity. 

I wonder if I was expecting everything to be plated in gold… It wasn’t, though. There was hardly a sparkle to be seen. 

Until the door opened again, and the room’s primary resident appeared. Despite wearing clothes clearly meant for sleeping, he was still gleaming with dozens of golden accessories. 

“You made it,” Jircniv gave a sunny smile. 

He strolled over to a vanity set and sat himself down in front of the mirror there. Casually, he started to divest himself of all of his jewelry, starting with the Crown of Solomon.

“The maids don’t do that for you?” Ainz asked. It was obviously going to be a long and tedious process alone. 

“I don’t let them,” his husband shook his head, taking off a pair of earrings. “The only other person I would let take them off of me is you.”

Ainz cleared his throat, “A-Ah, is that so…?”

The emperor chuckled. “Don’t be so tense. Are you wondering why I called you here?”

Ainz wondered if he should pretend to know the answer… but he did have something in mind, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be right. So instead, he nodded. “I am.”

“There are a few reasons…” 

One by one, beautiful rings started sliding onto velvet ring stands; necklaces onto hooks; bangles into cubbies and bracelets onto horizontal rods. As the emperor shed his gilded layers, the vanity became more and more opulent with riches. 

“Reason number one is that there’s symbolic meaning to having you in my room tonight. Even if nothing else happens, I can use that fact to restrain Albedo, Shalltear, and Neuronist, so please stay here until morning.”

“I see,” Ainz nodded, shuddering internally at the reminder that Neuronist was on the list of people who were vying for him most aggressively. “I thought our marriage alone had quieted them down somewhat…”

The emperor glanced over his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Only temporarily. After all, everyone who still has thoughts of being with you looks at me and sees a mortal man who will die after a few decades. As if I would let them make trouble for you after I’m dead.”

A bitter feeling swelled in Ainz’s chest. He wasn’t used to thinking of things like an immortal being. The idea of Jircniv growing old and dying some day, while he stayed the same, was unpleasant. But Jircniv was only in his twenties—extremely young for a full-fledged emperor—so it wasn’t a thing that occurred to him often. 

Of course, there were various means in Nazarick to extend a being’s lifespan. One of the easiest would be to turn them into a demon… but Jircniv was a good man, and the process required to create a Seed of the Fallen was quite cruel. He might not want that. 

It was a conversation for later. 

“What’s the second reason?”

The emperor stood up from his chair and walked over to where Ainz was, casually taking a seat next to Ainz on the couch. The Overlord looked down at him. The only ornament on his body now was his wedding ring. His beauty seemed more quiet and restful, but it was still very present. His golden locks still shined and his amethyst eyes glowed in the moonlight. 

Jircniv smiled up at him briefly, and Ainz felt his empty chest tighten. After just a glimpse of that enticing face, the emperor turned to look down at his lap, leaving the undead’s non-existent heart pounding from the lingering surprise. 

“Let’s see… Momonga, we’re friends, right?”

“Y… yes,” Ainz nodded uncertainly. 

“Right.” 

Jircniv sighed faintly, and Ainz felt his non-existent skin prickling. What was this sense of loneliness and anticipation lingering in the air between them?

While looking away and hiding his mouth behind his hand, Jircniv said softly, “But I think of you as more than just a friend. We took the same vows, right? You’re my “cherished lifelong companion.” I want to spend more time together and share special moments between us.”

Ainz’s skull was swimming with too many things at once. One part of him was thinking about how cute Jircniv looked when he was acting shy like this. Another part was enjoying a feeling of warmth and excitement upon hearing how much he meant to his husband and friend. Yet another part was steeped in uncertainty and guilt, because if this conversation was going to go in a physical direction, he really didn’t know what he would do. 

Jircniv pulled his hand away from his mouth and smiled sweetly up at Ainz, waving one finger in the air. “So, for starters, I was thinking you can call me Jir, if you want to.”

“Jir,” Ainz echoed, surprised by the flow of the conversation, but quite happy with it regardless. Even after leaving most of it out, Jircniv’s name wasn’t the easiest thing to say. Calling him Jir would be smoother, and it felt special that he had permission to do so. 

“So, since I would be here tonight anyway, you wanted to spend time together to chat and grow closer?”

The human smiled and nodded. “That’s basically my second reason, yes. Though there is a third one too.”

***

Jircniv examined Momonga closely. His face and body language gave away very little, but as if by some sixth sense, he knew the undead was flustered. Under ordinary circumstances, one little push would finish things. 

But Ainz wasn’t ordinary, and it was still too soon for that. The emperor held back a sigh and put a friendly smile on his face. “I figured this would be a good chance to verify the effect of the Ceremony Rings,” he said. 

“Ah! Of course,” Ainz nodded. “I don’t mind.”

They would be sharing a bed tonight, but only in the literal sense. Jircniv felt bittersweet about it, but with the way the Overlord’s emotions worked, he couldn’t risk pushing Ainz over the threshold too soon and undoing all his progress. 

The surest path to success was to build up layer upon layer of small feelings, until the point that they roiled just below the surface and could burst forth with the slightest agitation. At that point, whatever calm the supreme one enforced upon himself wouldn’t last. The seal would just break again, just like with Jircniv’s own madness. 

The answer was right under my nose, as usual. 

“But we still have time before I need to sleep,” Jircniv shrugged. “Is there anything you’d like to chat about, Momonga?”

“Hm…” the supreme one held his chin for a moment in thought and waved his hand, casting a silencing spell over them. “Ah. I’m sorry this isn’t a very fun topic, but could you explain to me what Demiurge and Albedo are planning in the Kingdom?”

The emperor nodded, “Sure.”

He hadn’t revealed this to anyone else in the tomb, and frankly he didn’t plan to, but for all of his brilliance, the Sorcerer King wasn’t the indomitable tactician everyone thought he was. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t a genius in his own right, but his talents lay in his unmatched charisma and social engineering, as well as his personal strength. 

Considering he was originally the leader of a pantheon of gods that each had their own specialized talents, it was exactly the skillset he needed. But it wasn’t everything the world was convinced he was capable of.

So one of Jircniv’s important roles as Apostle was to be someone Ainz could ask questions to freely, without worrying about ruining his omniscient image. It was important that he understand the political landscape around him in order to guide Nazarick and the world in the best direction. But the greatest minds of Nazarick were so blinded by love and faith that they unintentionally isolated their deity in the dark. 

That was perfectly fine. Jircniv could be his light. 

“Let’s see…” the Apostle thought about where to begin and stood up. He made his way over to the opposite couch and dropped himself onto it, lounging sideways as was his habit. “Are you familiar with the Re-Estes Kingdom’s Princess Renner, the so-called golden princess?”

Ainz nodded his head. “I’ve heard of her.”

“Well, Nazarick is trying to get the Kingdom to capitulate to you like the Empire did. She came up with most of the plan they’re using.”

Ainz tipped his head slightly. “A princess is selling out her own kingdom?”

Jircniv smiled faintly, “She’s smart, crazy, and dangerous, so be careful around her. Think of her as another Albedo.”

The overlord nodded warily. “And what about the plan itself?”

“You’ve annexed E-Rantel and its surrounding area into the Sorcerous Kingdom. Are you aware that this region was the Kingdom’s bread basket?”

“Well, there are a lot of fields here,” Ainz nodded. “The undead I summoned are farming those fields, so I can vaguely sense how wide an area it is.”

Jircniv nodded and decided to teach Ainz a little instead of just dictating to him. “Most of the Kingdom’s population has left this area, but most of their fields are here. Do you know the natural result of that?”

The undead gazed intently at the floor between them for a few moments before locking eyes again. “They don’t have enough to eat?”

Jircniv smiled. It was good that his undead husband was capable of comprehending basic human needs. 

“Correct. Food is the most important issue to living creatures, and the food prices in the Kingdom have been steadily climbing for months now.”

“So are we going to sell them food or let them starve?” Ainz asked. 

“We’re going to sell them food,” Jircniv told him. “The warehouses emptied by Jaldabaoth’s attack on the capital are being rented by us and filled with our grain. We send convoys carrying food relief to the Holy Kingdom through Re-Estes’s territory. All of that is so the common people in the Kingdom never forget that they could fill their bellies if their rulers would just buy grain from us.”

“So even if their rulers are wary of us, the people will force them to do something. Then we’ll sell them food to help them through their crisis,” Ainz nodded. “I can see how that would make the Kingdom our ally, but a vassal?”

Jircniv gestured with the hand that wasn’t propping up his head and felt his eyes widen a little too much. “This is a plan made by two demons and a human with a Devil’s soul. It isn’t a kind one.” He managed to normalize his expression again quickly enough. “Not only will we be feeding the Kingdom, Albedo will be using the idiotic noble faction she built in the power vacuum after the Katze plains massacre to spread self-destructive farming policies. All those nobles will be given the idea that since food is taken care of, they can enrich their own territories by growing inedible cash crops like cotton instead. After a few years, Re-Estes won’t be able to survive without importing food from the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Ainz’s voice lowered in both understanding and the smallest hint of pity. Not because humans would die, but because the Kingdom wouldn’t be their ally—their friend—at the end of this. “So we’re making them dependent on us. Will we pressure them into becoming our vassal, then, with the threat of starving them to death if they refuse?”

“That’s right,” Jircniv nodded. 

“Why are we trying to ruin them before bringing them over to us?” Ainz asked with some audible bitterness. “Does it benefit the glory of the Sorcerous Kingdom Ainz Ooal Gown to have destitute allies and vassals?”

The emperor smiled genuinely. Ainz was steadily taking over the world for the purpose of spreading the good name of his pantheon, to honor his absent friends. Sometimes, the evil inclinations of Nazarick’s denizens got in the way of that. 

But there was a reason Jircniv hadn’t forewarned him that this plan seemingly went against his philosophy. 

“Actually, Momonga, it’s better to damage the Kingdom as much as possible.”

“… Why is that?”

“Because it’s corrupt,” the bloody emperor smiled brightly. “And if you tear down that corruption after vassalizing them, it’ll look like a bloody purge from the outside. It’s better to have the Kingdom fall apart on its own, let the law of the jungle take care of the trash, and then appear to save them when they’re at their lowest.”

The Sorcerer King held his chin. “… I see.”

“However,” Jircniv frowned and admitted, “although I’m not quite the tactician Demiurge and Albedo are, there are parts of this plan that I’m not completely happy with.”

“Oh? Like what?”

The emperor shrugged with his free arm. “Princess Renner is to be rewarded for her help by being turned into a demon, along with the boy she’s obsessed with, so they can be together forever. They’ll then work directly for Nazarick. But the problem is that Renner is in Albedo’s camp.”

“Eh?”

“Which means if she joins Nazarick, not only will my job get harder, but we’ll have a new evil genius around who has no real loyalty to anyone but her little pet.” He frowned. “I have confidence in my ability to win people over, but I’d rather just kill her.”

Ainz sounded mildly distressed. “Then why are we inviting her?” 

“Demiurge because she’s useful, and he has absolute faith in our ability to control her. Albedo because she needs more chess pieces to maneuver herself into position as your wife someday.”

Ainz sank into thought. “What if we killed her instead?”

“Then we would have to either make it look like an accident or kill her pet too. And if we kill her pet, his friend will catch our scent. That friend being Brain Unglaus, the strongest person in the Kingdom now that Gazef Stronoff is dead. Of course his strength isn’t a threat to us, but his death would make a big splash in the outside world… Not to mention, with those three dead, there’s almost nothing left in the Kingdom worth taking. At most, we’d gain a few moderately talented people, some national treasures, and their population.”

Ainz’s eyes glittered slightly. “If this Brain Unglaus has the same spirit as Gazef Stronoff, I’d like to have him… Can we make the princess’s death look like a convincing accident?”

Jircniv blinked and chuckled. Be it items or people, his husband was a collector of rare and interesting things. He had apparently lost his chance to collect Stronoff, so if possible, Jircniv wanted to deliver Unglaus to him. 

Maybe I could use him as an attendant? He’s about on the level of a combat maid, and it would be nice to have another human around.

Jircniv gave an encouraging smile, “Of course we can. I’ll talk with Demiurge about it.”

“Thank you, Jir.”

Chapter Text

Jircniv opened his eyes in the morning, feeling blissful wrapped in soft and cool sheets. The fact that his half-awake mind didn’t panic at the sight of bare white bones next to him was both excellent and terrible news. 

Ainz Ooal Gown was lying next to him, propped up by a few pillows while he calmly read a book. Adorably, it was a self-help guide on basic economics. 

The emperor shuffled and sat up, and Ainz stowed his reading material away in his inventory. “You’re awake. How did you sleep?”

Jircniv stretched his arms over his head and felt pleasantly limber. Usually, he woke up with some stiffness in his shoulders for basically carrying around gold weights everywhere he went, but today he felt refreshed. 

“I feel great. The Ceremony Ring worked better than I thought it would.”

“Really?” there was a hint of pleasant surprise in Ainz’s deep voice. “There was a chance it wouldn’t work at all, so that’s good to hear.”

Jircniv nodded, “Good morning by the way,” and leaned forward to briefly kiss Ainz’s cheek. Then he climbed out of bed. 

Of course the overlord was caught off guard and flustered, he held his cheek silently and followed the emperor with his red eyes as he made his way over to the vanity. 

“It would be nice if we could sleep together from now on,” Jircniv stated as he began the ritual of gilding himself in gold. 

“… I think I can make time for that,” Ainz said slowly, climbing out of bed himself. 

“Ah, if you’re heading out, would you send the maid in to help me with my hair?”

“Alright,” Ainz nodded. 

The Apostle, more gleaming and golden by the moment, looked over his shoulder and smiled at Ainz. “Thank you, Momonga. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Mhm.”

Jircniv watched the undead leave with a wry smile on his face, and welcomed the maid in brightly. 

Good, just like that, he thought to himself. I’ll engrave thoughts of loving me into his bones until he can’t ignore them anymore. 

As the maid on Apostle duty was happily ensuring Jircniv’s hair was fluffy, neat, soft, and shining brighter than gold, he gave her a separate task. 

“By the way, could you help me send a message to Demiurge? I need him to come and see me after breakfast.”

“Of course!” The maid bobbed her head eagerly, eyes shining in glee as the Apostle allowed her to help him wear his crown. “I think he’s back in the Empire already, but I’ll have someone call him back right away!”

“There’s no need to rush him,” Jircniv told her, knowing the other maids would spend some time dolling him up for the day. 

The maid stared at him in awe as if her brain had short-circuited, then she flushed bright red and nodded. “Yes, Lord Apostle! Understood!”

Jircniv blinked, wondering if he had indeed learned some kind of new skill, or if his new crown actually had some hidden effect. The maids were reacting more dramatically than he was used to. 

I’ll swing by the treasury later and ask Pandora’s Actor to appraise the Crown of Solomon again… and me.  

***

Demiurge was back in the Empire. He had returned shortly after the reception, since he was equipped with a magic item that prevented him from needing to rest. 

It was a very moving event. The supreme one’s majesty was visible at every step, and even his groom hadn’t failed to impress. 

To think, Lord Ainz had succeeded at turning a mortal into an apostle. It was one thing to hear about it and another thing entirely to see it for himself. Just one conversation with the enlightened man had changed Demiurge’s worldview. 

Though his designer was gone, the true creator who had given him life was still with him. It was a dream come true. 

So Demiurge returned to work with gusto and fervor, much to the anxiety of the humans he worked with. 

“D-did you enjoy your break, Lord Regent?” a somewhat bolder secretary asked. 

Demiurge smiled wide with his frog mouth. “It was wonderful!”

The humans trembled. They had never seen the frog demon happy like this except after subjecting people to torment, and they feared to wonder what he had spent his short break doing. 

But at the same time, they wouldn’t mind terribly if he were to take a little more time off…

They dove back into work, though there wasn’t as much to do anymore. Every noble with even a whiff of corruption about them had been removed from their stations. The power vacuum had been filled with new administrative policies, and power was being centralized in the emperor’s palace. Of course, this resulted in an increase of paperwork, but the aids sent from the Sorcerous Kingdom and the Emperor Regent himself were extremely efficient at handling that.

The Empire’s people were happy, if a little wary, but the humans within the imperial palace had an enormous amount of pressure put on them. With fewer people around to punish, they feared their demonic Regent’s sadistic inclinations would shift onto them. Fortunately, he was in a good mood today. 

But hearing that the Regent had returned after his brief trip to the Sorcerous Kingdom, the true Emperor’s two most loyal Imperial Knights barged in: Baziwood and Nimble. They threw open the doors and pushed past the administrative aids, approaching the Regent’s desk. 

Were he in a worse mood, they would probably be groveling on the ground against their will already. 

“Please knock and announce yourselves before entry,” he said calmly instead, refusing to so much as look up from his paperwork to acknowledge them. 

Baziwood slammed his hands on the Regent’s desk (which was originally the Emperor’s desk, though he hardly used it) and shouted. 

“It’s been three months since anyone has seen his imperial majesty!” He protested boldly. 

“The Lord A—Emperor has been busy familiarizing himself with governance of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and I’ve been busy keeping things running here. What exactly are you trying to imply?”

“We want to see him,” Nimble put his tongue and his neck on the line. “You were able to take a short trip back to the Sorcerous Kingdom. Surely he isn’t so busy he can’t do the same.”

The frog demon stamped the paperwork he had finished reviewing and passed it aside to an aid, picking up a new stack and rapidly flicking through the pages as his bulbous eyes scanned the contents. 

“He is by no means a prisoner. It’s been his own decision to devote himself to acclimating.” For a moment, the demon looked up at the two of them, “He has made remarkable progress. I hold greater respect for your Emperor than I ever thought I would have for a human. Therefore, I’m not surprised by your loyalty as his knights, but you have nothing to worry about.”

The two imperial knights still looked on with obvious concern, though certainly some surprise. Hearing a demon say he respected their Emperor… should they think it was as expected of as great a man as Jircniv, or should they be worried he had been driven from the right path?

Before they could say anything else or the demon could return to his paperwork, Demiurge received a sudden message. “Excuse me,” he said, and held a hand to the side of his head. “This is Demiurge.”

A moment passed where nobody but the demon could hear the magical message he was receiving. The room’s inhabitants were all greatly started when the demon stood up and exclaimed in joy. “Of course! I’m prepared to answer the Lord Apostle’s summons whenever he should require me!” 

Demiurge glanced around the room and calmed down a bit, straightening out his suit jacket. “Oh, could you inform him that his subordinates are concerned for his well-being and request a visit? … Yes. … I understand. Thank you.”

He lowered his arm and glanced at the two knights. 

“Within the next two hours, his imperial majesty will be coming to discuss something with me. You will have a chance to meet with him then.”

“Really?!” Baziwood grinned. 

Nimble was quiet, unsure if their emperor was being referred to as an Apostle or if that was someone else. They both remained to wait to meet their emperor again. 

A while later, Demiurge received another message and cleared everyone out of the room except for himself and the two imperial knights. Then a swirling black gate opened up from floor to ceiling. A golden sandal came through first, landing gently but solidly on the carpeted floor. A collection of anklets clattered against each other, ringing out an appealing sound. 

That sound raised instant confusion and curiosity in the minds of the two knights. But before they had time to get the gears in their heads spinning, they kneeled and lowered their heads in a show of loyalty

“Your majesty!” They exclaimed together. 

“Nimble, Baziwood,” what a relief it was to hear their emperor’s voice, healthy and strong. “It’s good to see you both again. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“No your majesty, we’re sorry to trouble you like this,” Nimble bowed deeper. 

The emperor chuckled. “Demiurge, go on ahead and take a short break. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Of course, Lord Apostle. Please enjoy your reunion.”

After a few footsteps, the frog demon disappeared through the portal, still spinning ominously against the back wall. It would likely stay there until his majesty returned through it. 

“At ease,” the emperor commanded. 

“Yes!” 

The two knights barked in unison and stood up. Their eyes widened upon seeing their liege. It wasn’t like he had ever dressed humbly before, but…

And Nimble couldn’t help wondering if it was just the clothes or if his liege had grown more handsome while he was away. 

Baziwood whistled. “The Sorcerer King sure is rich, huh?” he grinned. “Are you having fun over there, your majesty?”

“Fun…” Jircniv smiled strangely. “Sometimes it’s fun, yes.”

He took a few steps deeper into the office, not toward the desk he rarely actually used himself, but to the lounge chair he was fond of. He dropped down onto it with the sound of ringing metal. 

The two knights didn’t know it, but the emperor also owned a golden crown he wasn’t wearing at the moment, simply because it would be tedious to explain why he had received a crown before his wedding ceremony. Even then, they thought he was wearing more than enough wealth on his person. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t send word sooner. I’ve been busy doing unreasonable things all day every day.” He raised an arm laden with precious-looking golden baubles and shrugged, “But I’ve finally carved out a secure place for myself, so it’s been worth it.”

“Your majesty,” Nimble stepped forward, “did that demon call you an Apostle just now?”

Baziwood put his hands on his hips, “Oh! Yeah, what’s that about?”

Jircniv exhaled sharply through his nose. It was hard to tell if it was out of amusement or exasperation. “As it turns out, most of the Sorcerer King’s subordinates find him just as incomprehensible as the rest of the world does. But I have a newfound talent for figuring out what he’s thinking, so they’re relying on me as a translator of sorts.”

“I see…” Nimble smiled faintly, glad to see with his own eyes that the man he served was doing well and hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Oh, by the way, your majesty, have you been working out?” Baziwood asked. He rudely pointed at the emperor before flexing his own biceps.

Nimble took a closer look past the distracting jewelry too, noticing that his liege’s exposed arms and shoulders had better muscle definition than before he left. Those changes probably applied to the rest of his body too. How like Baziwood to notice something like that right away. 

The emperor blinked at them before smiling wryly. “I suppose I have. Weights and cardio, mostly.”

“That’s good, that’s good!” The boisterous knight laughed. “Men should be active!”

“If you’re healthy and in high spirits, that’s all we can ask for,” Nimble said. 

But Baziwood was always a little too lively for his own good. He stepped forward with a bright look on his face. “Your majesty, how about some arm wrestling?”

Nimble frowned, “Hey, Baziwood, have you been too bored lately? What are you saying to his majesty?”

There was obviously no contest between the arm strength of a politician and a knight. Jircniv knew that too. But still, these were the most ordinary people he had seen in months. He was happy to lose to a human for a change, and to have an excuse to stay even a minute longer in this warm and normal atmosphere. 

“Sure, why not? I’ll answer that request just because it’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other.”

Baziwood blinked in surprise before pumping his fist and exclaiming. “That’s the spirit, your majesty!”

They moved over to the desk, and Jircniv removed one of his many bracelets, setting it to the side. 

“What’s that?” Nimble asked. 

“A magic item that increases my strength. Even if I know I’ll lose, I still want to play fair.”

“Well said, your majesty,” Baziwood grinned, propping his elbow on the desk and offering his armored hand to his emperor. 

Jircniv grasped it, and Nimble stood to the side, faintly sighing. He took it upon himself to announce the countdown. “On go. Three, two, one, go.”

The emperor and his knight both put strength into their arms. Baziwood started off going easy on the emperor, even letting him take a little ground, but then he took it back and a little more with it. Jircniv gritted his teeth and put his whole body into the task, since he was trying it anyway, but of course, the well-built knight won in the end. 

“Baziwood wins,” Nimble announced without any surprise. 

Jircniv took his hand back and rubbed his wrist, shaking his head. “Well, I lasted longer than I thought I would.”

But Baziwood, who should arguably be the happiest here, frowned at his hand and directed a suspecting look at his emperor.  “Are you sure you weren’t wearing any items to increase your strength, your majesty?”

Jircniv tilted his head at him. “Of course.”

The knight leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. “Then are they forcing you to train as a soldier over there or something?”

Jircniv blinked and Nimble joined the huddle. “Baziwood, what are you saying?” he chided in a hushed voice. 

“His majesty is strong. Obviously I won, since I’m still stronger, but that doesn’t mean he’s weak. And I wouldn’t expect that kind of strength from those muscles—even if they’re pretty good muscles—so my guess is that you gained a few levels in a combat class, am I right?”

With a slightly stunned look on his face, the emperor shook his head. “No, not at all.”

“Really?” The knights now looked more confused than their emperor. 

“Do you mind if I try as well?” Nimble asked, offering his arm. 

“I don’t mind.”

The emperor arm wrestled his other knight, and by the end, though Nimble won, he too was staring at his hand in confusion. 

“… Baziwood is right. You’re too strong for your build, your majesty. It isn’t much to knights like us, but if you hit an ordinary person without holding back, you’d kill them.”

“That much?” The emperor held his chin in contemplation, his brow furrowed in thought. “I really haven’t done any fighting, there’s no way I could have acquired a combat job…” He blinked and a light of understanding lit in his amethyst eyes. “But I have been socializing a lot with people more powerful than me and coming out on top. It’s possible that I gained a lot of levels in some non-combat classes.”

The two knights shared a look. “How many levels?” Baziwood asked. “The increase to physical strength you’d get from each level in a class like “Emperor” or even your “High Emperor” is pitiful. Wouldn’t you have to be in the realm of heroes for it to even make this much of a difference?”

It took a moment or two for Baziwood’s careless words to settle into the ears of all three men. Then each and every one of them went pale. 

“Your majesty!” Baziwood stood up, slamming the desk. 

Nimble held his hand over his mouth, feeling his stomach swim in shock. “There’s never been a documented case of someone reaching the realm of heroes without swimming in a river of blood. You may be famous for your talent as an emperor, your majesty, but is it really possible? No, it's not official unless you can demonstrate the political equivalent of heroic might, but what would that even look like?”

Jircniv was the most stunned of the three of them. Because he was surrounded by high level monsters all the time, he didn’t even notice his own level increasing. 

But slowly, a smile came to his face. “I see. I’ll definitely have to get appraised later.”

“Are you alright, your majesty?” Baziwood asked. “If you’re gaining levels that quickly, it must be like a warzone over there!”

The emperor shot him a reproachful gaze, which sent a shiver down Baziwood’s spine and compelled him to drop to his knees in apology. 

“A mere human is marrying the Sorcerer King. Did you think it would be easy?” The emperor ran his fingers through his golden hair and shook his head. “What are you doing on the floor, Baziwood? Get up.”

“Y-yes, your majesty.” Baziwood got back on his feet, wondering why his knees were shaking. 

“I’m really fine,” their emperor said, smiling warmly and reassuringly at them. Both knights felt their hearts swelling in relief. “It will probably be some time before we see each other again, But you should hear about me a little more often, at least.”

“What do you mean, your majesty?” Nimble asked. 

“I’ll probably have a role to play soon, that’s all. Keep an eye on the Kingdom, and obey Demiurge as my Regent, understood?”

“Yes, your majesty!” The knights saluted, and Jircniv stood up, strolling back toward the open gate. “Feel free to let others in the empire know I’m doing fine,” he waved and disappeared. The gate shut behind him. 

Baziwood and Nimble shared looks. 

“He was normal… but also not.”

Nimble nodded. “He was more admirable and imposing than I’ve ever seen him.”

“Is that because he leveled up, you think?”

“I don’t know…”

Baziwood grinned. “Well, let’s at least go and tell the rest of the palace he’s still alive.”

Nimble looked at his fellow knight and smiled slightly, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah, you’re right.”

***

Demiurge and CZ Delta were seated in a small meeting room on the ninth floor, exchanging a casual chat with each other while they waited for the Apostle to return. The Android maid was holding his Crown of Solomon in her lap. 

“How is it being the Lord Apostle’s attendant?” the demon asked. 

“It’s fun. He’s kind, and he laughs at my jokes.”

The Archdevil pushed up his glasses, “You must hear more of his revelations than anyone else.”

“Yep.” Shizu bobbed her head.

“I admit I’m a little jealous. Have you considered compiling the conversations he has?”

“Shalltear is doing that.”

“I see.” He smiled. “Then I shall have to borrow it from her someday. Being stationed so far away, I rarely have the opportunity to pick his brain.”

Shizu nodded slightly. “How is it living in the Empire?”

Demiurge hummed and folded his arms. “Have you heard of a sheepdog, Shizu?”

The Android shook her head. “Some kind of monster? Sounds cute.”

“They’re dogs that supposedly herd flocks of sheep to keep them from wandering off. Managing the Empire feels a little like that. It was already mostly organized and prosperous by the time I arrived, so there isn’t much fun to be had.”

“You would rather be a wolf, huh?”

“Of course not,” he shook his head, smiling. “I’m happy to be of service to Lord Ainz and Lord Apostle. Having fun is a separate matter entirely.”

They both heard the chiming of gold and turned toward the closing gate, standing to greet the Lord Apostle. 

“If “having fun” has anything to do with harming the people of the Empire, I’ll have to ask you to keep it to a minimum,” Jircniv winked, having apparently caught the last snippet of their conversation. 

Suddenly feeling anxious, Demiurge lowered himself to one knee, “Lord Apostle, I wasn’t implying that I was actively—”

“It’s fine, I’m not doubting you.”

Demiurge saw an open palm before his face. With some confusion, he accepted it and stood back up. Jircniv smiled up at him in a friendly manner. 

“It was a task entrusted to you by Ainz and myself. I know you won't let your interests drag down your performance.”

The emperor claimed one of the open couches for himself, lounging sideways on it, Shizu leaned over to place the Crown of Solomon back on his head, then she stood behind him like a proper attendant, while Demiurge sat on the opposite couch with straight posture. 

“Thank you, Lord Apostle. What was it you needed to speak to me about?”

“A couple of things,” the emperor said calmly. “First, could you spread a few rumors and search around for some desperate people? I’m trying to get a system spun up where people can sell their lives to Ainz, so that he can kill them as a form of relaxation. I’ll send over the details later.”

Demiurge stared open-mouthed for a moment before smiling brightly and adjusting his glasses. “What an innovative idea that is. As expected of Lord Ainz’s Apostle.”

The emperor smiled wryly at the demon. “If we end up accepting anyone who asks for another person to suffer in exchange for their life, I wonder if I can count on you to realize their wish, Demiurge.”

Demiurge froze momentarily in surprise, then cast a fleeting glance back at Shizu. “You’re incredibly thoughtful, Lord Apostle. It would be my pleasure.”

“Good,” Jircniv nodded. “The main thing I wanted to talk about is our plan for the Kingdom. We’ll need to make some amendments to it.”

“Some amendments?” the demon frowned in worry and leaned closer subconsciously. “Has Lord Ainz expressed any displeasure with the current plans?”

“He has. A sudden change like this must be worrisome, but Ainz has accounted for it all already. You see, Albedo—”

Before the Apostle could finish, they both received a message telling them to immediately gather in the throne room. 

[A convoy bearing the Sorcerous Kingdom’s flag has been attacked inside the Kingdom’s borders!]

Chapter Text

Aside from Victim and Gargantua, all the floor guardians were gathered in Nazarick’s throne room. Albedo as the Guardian Overseer and Jircniv as Ainz’s second-in-command, husband, and Apostle were also present. 

The master of the tomb was seated in his onyx throne, looking like the very master of life and death that he was. Beside that throne, another throne had been crafted out of solid, beautifully styled gold for his husband. Jircniv was surprised such a thing had been prepared so soon and that it wasn’t uncomfortable even without cushions.

But there was a serious matter occurring, so he couldn’t spare much attention to anything else. 

With a face that resembled a woman condemned to death, Albedo knelt at Ainz’s feet. 

“We’ve all heard the message,” Ainz stated with grim authority in his voice. “Albedo, please explain the current situation.”

The succubus tucked her head lower, “Yes, Lord Ainz. Actually… the convoy we were sending through the Kingdom was attacked… by a noble of the Kingdom.” 

“Eh?” “Huh?” “What?!” Several voices rose up all at once in disbelief. Jircniv bit back his own surprise and kept a calm smile on his face. But inside, he was just as baffled as the rest of them. 

What kind of absolute moron would directly attack the Sorcerous Kingdom?! There are better ways to commit suicide!

Ainz didn’t lose his aura of gravitas either. “If I remember right, those carriages were prepared by the Eight Fingers and were flying the Sorcerous Kingdom’s flag. Did the Kingdom launch an attack deliberately knowing the convoy belonged to us?”

Albedo clenched her pale white hands against the floor. “I’ve already verified that. Both the Kingdom and the Eight Fingers had no knowledge of this. I have a witness.”

They waited for Albedo to call in her witness, the woman from the Eight Fingers who they were using to control the faction of idiotic nobles who had been assembled. She was pale, trembling, and sickly thin. In absolute terror, she refused to lift her face from the floor even to glance up. 

“My name is Hilma Cygnaeus, my lord!” she whimpered. “I had no knowledge of this! I never thought he would do something so foolish! I warned him so many times and had so many people watching him! Please!”

Somehow, Jircniv felt strangely certain that this woman was being sincere, and he didn’t think it was because of the sympathy he felt toward her situation, either. 

“She’s telling the truth,” he stated.

“Really?” Albedo asked. 

“Well, if the Lord Apostle says so,” Demiurge murmured. 

“Are you sure, Jir?” Ainz asked him gently. 

Jircniv was sure, but he didn’t exactly have a way to prove what his sensibilities were telling him. “Yes, I’m certain, but I won’t stop you from using magic to verify it.”

“No, I trust your judgment,” Ainz stated and declared himself, “Cygnaeus is innocent.”

For the first time, Hilma lifted her gaze, her eyes shining with the light of awe and hope. Her gaze took in the merciful death that was Ainz Ooal Gown, and then she saw an angel on a golden throne, seated beside him. 

Belatedly, she recognized him and realized why he was sitting there. 

“Your imperial majesty, Lord El Nix?” she murmured. 

The angel gave her a reassuring smile, and her heart swelled with warmth and safety. At that moment, Hilma truly believed the emperor wasn’t a human anymore. Genuinely, with all her heart, she believed that he had transcended to something like an angel to be worthy of marrying Ainz Ooal Gown. Tears poured from her eyes as her cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady as she thanked him. 

“Thank you, my lords. I will never forget this grace.”

“Remember to take care of yourself, miss Cygnaeus,” Jircniv said. “I’m worried the stress is getting to you.”

Honestly, though he had frequently healed himself with potions and had fairly good self-control in general, this woman looked much worse off than Jircniv had at the height of his torment under Ainz. 

Is she another future apostle? he wondered, deciding spontaneously to throw her a bone. 

“There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, so don’t give up.”

Without realizing it herself, Hilma clasped her hands in prayer and nodded her head, eyes wide like a young girl attending church for the first time. 

“Long live Ainz Ooal Gown. Long live the Lord Apostle.”

She was dismissed through a portal shortly after that, and the discussion in the throne room continued. 

Albedo shook her head. “It appears that that absolute fool acted on his own, but it’s also possible that a third party we haven’t identified yet used him for their purposes. We could be dealing with a hidden master of subterfuge. The plan will require major modifications, and we’ll probably have to halt all progress until we can figure out what’s going on.”

A small chuckle came from Demiurge as he pushed up his glasses. “Ah, you’re right, Albedo. Fortunately, the new plan has already been finalized. Lord Ainz predicted this happening in advance, you see. He can not only predict the actions of intelligent foes, but also the incomprehensibly wise and foolish!”

“Ohh!” sounds of awe came from several of the guardians, and Jircniv smiled slightly. 

Hey, give me a break, he groaned internally. He could practically feel Ainz squirming in anxiety next to him. Of course, when he glanced over, the supreme one was calm and regal as always. 

But he must be panicking. Looks like it’s my job from here.

“That’s correct,” Jircniv said proudly, drawing the glittering eyes of the guardians. “Before we were called here, I was about to start explaining Ainz’s new plan to Demiurge.”

Though that plan would have been completely different from what I have to come up with now, he thought, wishing he could pause time for a few weeks to cry for a while and then think up a strategy that would satisfy two genius demon tacticians. 

Whatever he proposed would have to be solid enough to justify using Ainz’s name and to block Albedo from vetoing it, because she and the Apostle had different goals for the Kingdom’s Princess. 

“Then the plan won’t be interrupted!” Aura exclaimed. 

“Lord Ainz’s wisdom is truly fathomless,” Cocytus exhaled. 

“My! Then this isn’t something unexpected after all!” Shalltear cheered. 

Albedo looked concerned while glancing between Demiurge, Ainz, and Jircniv. No doubt she was wondering why she hadn’t been invited to the meeting the had Archdevil mentioned. 

Jircniv even felt Ainz’s hopeful gaze on him. 

I only have myself to blame. 

With that last pitiful thought, Jircniv banished all ideas from his head that didn’t have to do with conquering the Kingdom. He closed his eyes and vanished into a state of absolute focus. 

There are three goals: obtain the Kingdom, obtain Brain Unglaus, and dispose of the Golden Princess. 

Unglaus is mentoring the princess’s pet, so we’ll probably have better luck by recruiting the boy and letting Unglaus just follow along.

To recruit that boy… Climb, that was his name.  To recruit him while also killing the princess, the easiest way is… to frame someone else for her death and offer to help him get revenge. 

Then to include subjugating the Kingdom in all of this… After what was just a slightly longer blink on the outside, Jircniv opened his amethyst eyes and put a little genuine feeling behind his cunning smile. “We’re going to frame some nobles in the Kingdom for Princess Renner’s assassination and start a civil war.”

The man formerly known as the Bloody Emperor then spent the next few hours explaining his increasingly cruel and brilliant plan to his husband and the Guardians in real-time as he came up with it. 

It was amazing what a brilliant mind could do under pressure. 

***

The day ended up being quite the busy mess, but still Jircniv found time to visit Pandora’s Actor in the evening. The doppelgänger was able to transform into any of the supreme beings and mimic their skills, so he easily changed into one with appraisal abilities on request. 

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to say this, second father, you have excellent taste! Wearing magic items head to toe! How beautiful!”

“They’re all gifts from Ainz,” Jircniv smiled. 

“But it’s you who wears them! I’m very glad that my second father also understands the beauty of magic items! Anyway, let’s take a look at you with appraisal.”

A few minutes later, Pandora’s Actor had written down all he could glean about the Crown of Solomon and Jircniv’s current status. He handed his notes over respectfully, and Jircniv read them like a report. 

The Crown of Solomon indeed had a hidden function. It only activated when worn by a humanoid with a positive karma rating. It provided a buff to the wearer’s charisma proportional to the number of non-humanoid creatures with negative karma values that the wearer ruled over. Demons in particular provided a slightly better buff per subject. 

Given the number of such individuals in Nazarick, the buff had become quite significant. The minor charm ability was completely replaced, however.

As for Jircniv’s level, he was quite sure it had been in the twenties at most before. But now it was forty. Forty . He could hardly believe it, but he had actually entered the realm of heroes as a noncombatant. Baziwood and Nimble were just shy of level thirty themselves. Of course, they were still much stronger than a politician like him. 

Though at level forty, Jircniv realized he had to have the physical ability of about a level fifteen or twenty fighter at the absolute worst. The idea that he was about as strong as one of his own trained soldiers was ridiculous. Of course, a trained knight with a weapon would easily cut down an untrained noble, even if their stats were similar. 

But Nimble was right. If Jircniv didn’t keep his enhanced physique in mind, he could seriously injure an ordinary civilian without even trying. 

A sudden thought occurred to the half-mad emperor. I should ask Baziwood how he manages his wives at night given their strength disparity… No, I should ask his wives how they manage it. 

Directing his focus back to the appraisal, he noticed that his High Emperor job had been replaced and felt bittersweet about it. Instead, he now possessed a class called Golden Emperor.

All the Emperor classes were similar: they provided a bonus to charisma and bonuses to interactions intended to strike awe or fear into their subjects. High Emperor just stacked some slightly better buffs on top of the ones from Emperor. Golden Emperor, which had replaced it, did the same thing with even better results. But it seemed to come with the caveat that its buffs wouldn’t activate if he wasn’t wearing enough gold. 

It must be a powerful job, since only the good ones come with demerits. 

Jircniv had also finally mastered his Charisma job and met the requirements for a new high tier job, Evoker, because of it. 

The Charisma class naturally gave a boost to charisma and bonuses to every kind of social interaction that relied on it. It was a class many orators had. The buffs it gave were smaller but more diverse than Emperor, and they worked on more than just Jircniv’s subjects. 

The Evoker class, on the other hand, made his eyes widen. He glanced up at Pandora’s Actor but didn’t dare to question his analysis out loud. 

It was a dangerous-sounding class that allowed him to leverage his charisma to influence emotions directly. The chance of success depended on his own charisma compared to the level and emotional defenses of the target. It wasn’t magic, so he had to speak and act appropriately for the result he wanted to achieve, but because it wasn’t magic, it didn’t eat into his meager mana pool. Another aspect was that it was a passive ability that he couldn’t turn on or off, nor could he choose its targets clearly. It was simply activated toward whoever could perceive him. 

… That was a lot of demerits… Because it was a very powerful class. Normally anything that involved manipulating another person’s thoughts, actions, or emotions was considered a charm. There were various skills, jobs, races, and items that provided resistance or even immunity to such effects. But the passive ability of Evoker wasn’t considered a charm, it was considered a social interaction buff. It couldn’t be resisted the same way a proper charm could be. 

Jircniv had to stop his hands from reaching up and removing the Crown of Solomon from his head. It gave his charisma a significant buff because of all the wicked creatures in Nazarick, and that buff happened to make Evoker’s ability disproportionately likely to succeed. He was momentarily terrified that every relationship he had from now on would be a lie. 

Calm down. He forced himself to take a deep breath. According to this description, the results depend on how I act. So if I just encourage the people around me to be honest with their feelings, they will be… right? 

It wasn’t a brainwashing ability, a charm, or magic, after all. Any feelings he evoked would indeed be real and a direct result of his actions. 

And if he was still worried about it, he could take off his crown and all of the gold he was wearing, blindfold and deafen whoever he wanted honesty from, and check their real feelings. 

But that would obviously be excessive in most cases, so for now, he just had to keep going as he had been, with the awareness that his actions and bearing held more weight than ever before. 

… He was suddenly very, very glad for the strange way that Ainz Ooal Gown’s emotions worked, as they were the only thing the Emperor had run into that seemed like a natural counter to his new class ability. 

There was only one more description to read: one more class Jircniv had unlocked, and he wasn’t surprised at all to see it there. 

Apostle. 

It was a rare class—the only one the emperor had ever earned—and it was already at level 3. Like every other class he seemed to learn given his lifestyle, it provided a boost to his charisma. It also improved his chances of successfully communicating with the being he was an apostle to and the people he was an apostle for. That communication buff covered both the oration side and the comprehension side of things. 

There was also an active skill listed there—again, the first one the Emperor had ever earned. It would use up his mana, most of it, in fact, since he didn’t have much, and the only information written about it was that it allowed him to receive revelations beyond his knowledge. 

“What does this mean?” Jircniv asked, pointing at the entry. “Revelations beyond my knowledge?”

“I’m not sure,” Pandora’s Actor shrugged and adjusted the brim of his hat. “That’s all my skill told me.”

He frowned, “How do I activate it then?”

“Just like you’d activate any other skill, I imagine,” the guardian replied, tipping his head slightly. 

Jircniv stared flatly at the creature for a few moments before he tipped his head the other direction and folded his arms. “… Ah. This is your first active skill…”

“It is.”

“Well, it should just come to you naturally. You’ll get the hang of it sooner or later.”

Jircniv smiled bitterly down at the document and folded it shut, sliding it into his robes. “I see. Thank you for the appraisal, Pandora’s Actor.”

“Oh! Second father, could I ask a quick question, since you’re here?”

Jircniv smiled wryly and exhaled through his nose, staying seated for a moment longer. He waved the creature on. “Of course. Go ahead.”

The guardian of the treasury tipped his egg-shaped head, “Who or what is Pandora?”

“… What?”

“My name is Pandora’s Actor . So who or what am I the actor of?”

Jircniv went still, and deep anxiety struck him for the first time in a very long time. He didn’t know the answer. He hadn’t even known Pandora’s Actor was written as a possessive. 

What was he supposed to say? What good was an apostle who didn’t know God’s intentions? …What good was a “second father” who never thought to ask the meaning of his stepson’s name?!

As the emperor slowly opened his mouth to apologize, hoping it would be alright to delay the doppelgänger for now and ask Ainz for a proper answer later, he subconsciously refused to go through with it. His pride and his station wouldn’t allow it. And didn’t his Apostle class come with a skill?! It should do its job at a time like this! 

In response to his desperate, stubborn insistence on understanding the supreme one, Jircniv was suddenly struck by an epiphany, no different than if it had been born from his own thoughts… except that it came along with the certainty that his skill as an Apostle had activated and that this foreign thought was unequivocally true. 

Knowledge that he had never sought before was on the tip of his tongue now with perfect clarity. 

Jircniv spoke slowly, completely awed by this feeling of alien comprehension, but not dazed enough to fail to capitalize on it. “… Its original meaning is gift, or gifted. But it also means the temptation of curiosity and unforeseen troubles. There was also a famous item called Pandora’s Box…” He trailed off, unable to hold onto the knowledge that wasn’t his own any longer. 

Strange. Just a moment ago, he knew there was more to that story. It was gone like the wind now. He barely remembered or understood what he had said with his own mouth anymore. 

The eccentric guardian flared his cape and spun around on his heels, exclaiming to the ceiling, “Ohh! I see! Then I’m the actor—or the instigator, you could say—of gifts and temptation, and also something of a secret weapon? As expected of my father, my name perfectly suits me! Not that I ever doubted it did.” 

Meanwhile, as the foreign light of understanding faded completely from Jircniv’s eyes, he doubled over and clutched at his head. It ached intensely, like shards of glass had found their way inside. 

A deep fatigue settled into his bones as well. It was the sensation of mana depletion that he would have never felt before in his life. This was the first time he had ever actively used a skill, after all. 

The emperor forced himself to sit up straight and smile without wincing before Pandora’s Actor turned around again. Why does a headache hurt as much as a broken leg? He complained internally, barely able to string that coherent thought together. 

The pain was quickly fading, though the fatigue stayed. 

“Thank you again,” Pandora’s Actor exclaimed, spinning around again and holding one of the emperor’s hands, kneeling in front of him. “I promise to never forget the precious knowledge you’ve shared with me!”

Even though I’m forgetting it as we speak? Jircniv smiled warmly on the outside. This is an incredible ability, but true understanding is better. Still, I should experiment with it.

“You don’t need to be so formal, Pandora’s Actor. Aren’t I your father too?”

“Oh! Ohh!” The boisterous creature released his hand and stood up again, shouting. “Such wisdom and grace—it moves this humble creation!” He clutched his heart while twirling in a circle. 

While blankly watching that scene, Jircniv thought, I remember now. Unexpected trouble, was it? It does suit him. I should have used the skill to figure out why he was made this way in the first place.

That said, Jircniv thought he somewhat understood already. Pandora’s Actor stayed alone every day in the Treasury, surrounded by only inanimate objects. This boisterous personality was probably partly to help him stave off loneliness, boredom, and worse. 

But there was also a chance he had been normal at first and simply gone insane like this for the same above reasons. 

… Level forty, huh? Jircniv tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Knowing that every person was born with a limit to the level they could reach, he never expected his to be so high. 

He wondered how much higher he could go. 

Chapter Text

As Jircniv made his way back to his room through the ninth floor, he couldn’t help thinking that he’d been underestimating magic casters all this time. The sensation of mana depletion was more debilitating than he thought: it was like he’d run a marathon after skipping a couple days of sleep. Not to mention, he still had a dull lingering headache leftover from his first revelation. It was a shame he’d forgotten just about all of it. 

I should write it down next time, he thought and forced himself to take a few more steps. 

“Want me to carry you?” Shizu asked, holding her arms out and making a cradling motion. 

The emperor laughed. “No thank you.”

Jircniv didn’t mind relaxing a little around Shizu or Ainz compared to usual, but he still had to maintain a basic level of dignity in public. He had no intention of being seen carried in his maid’s arms. 

“I have a stealth skill,” she said. “No one will see.”

“I’m conscious, safe, and all of my limbs are attached, so the answer is no.” The emperor shook his head. The motion made him dizzy, so he held his head and braced against the wall for a moment. “…I will let you support me though.” 

That’d be better than tripping or collapsing in the middle of the hallway, he thought. 

Shizu ducked under his arm to do just that and activated her stealth skill, even though he hadn’t explicitly said to do so. They walked past several ordinary maids after that, but it was like they were invisible. At most the maids turned their heads slightly in search of some unknown presence. 

This and that silencing spell Ainz has are very useful, Jircniv thought, impressed.

But the sniper grumbled to herself, not at all satisfied. “You’re hard to hide.”

“Going ignored is the death of a politician,” Jircniv chuckled. 

Charisma and stealth were basically total opposites, so he was probably dragging down the effectiveness of her skill considerably. But the halls weren’t crowded, and it was working well enough, so they continued slowly making their way to the Apostle’s room. Once they were there, Jircniv stood on his own and Shizu dispelled her stealth, startling the maid at the door, who hurriedly bowed to them both. 

He opened the door to see the room empty. 

… That’s strange. Jircniv noted the time with the help of the moonlight streaming in through the enchanted window. As far as he knew, Ainz didn’t have any other plans for this evening. Jircniv had expected to be the last to arrive after his appraisal. 

Wordlessly, he shut the door and turned around, walking back up the hallway. 

Shizu followed him, noting that he seemed to have spontaneously recovered from his mana exhaustion. Of course that wasn’t possible; he was just putting on a strong front for some reason.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a low voice. 

The Lord Apostle smiled inscrutably at her. “Who knows? Maybe nothing. We’ll see when we find Ainz.”

But I have a bad feeling…

***

A shattering sound rang out as a vase crashed against the wall, leaving a scar on the paint and a pile of sharp debris on the carpet. Albedo stood heaving, still in her posture immediately after throwing the decoration in a fit of rage. 

Gradually, the feeling faded, and she was overcome with fear and sadness instead, lowering herself into a couching posture on the floor while she clutched her head. 

She stared at the beautiful black carpet fibers and wondered what the hell she was doing. 

She was supposed to be winning Momonga’s heart back through competency, only for the plan in the kingdom—which she was overseeing—to go completely awry. 

The new plan was wonderful. It was cruel and efficient, and would show results faster than the previous plan. But the Lord Apostle was going to be managing the new plan, not her. 

Another disgrace. Another lost opportunity. Albedo had contented herself with quietly improving herself and her forces until her love’s mortal husband inevitably died, but at this rate she wouldn’t get a chance even after that. 

She had failed to improve, and the ally she had hoped to recruit, Princess Renner, was going to be killed as punishment for her plan failing.

Albedo had tried arguing that they only fake the girl’s assassination and keep her hidden in Nazarick to assist them with administration. Her intelligence was remarkable for a human and would be an incredible loss. Not to mention, Albedo might have been able to use her someday. 

The girl had sold out her country out of loyalty to Nazarick! Shouldn’t they reward that dedication, at least to the extent of forgiving one flaw in her plan that even Albedo and Demiurge could not have predicted?

The demoness still remembered the Lord Apostle’s knowing smile as he easily shut down her entire argument. 

“Why would we trust someone who betrayed everyone she’s ever known to not betray Nazarick someday in turn?”

At that moment, Albedo looked into the Lord Apostle’s eyes and realized that her entire plan had been seen through. Whether it was the Apostle himself who had realized her intention to form her own faction in Nazarick, or whether Ainz had seen through it and informed him, either way she had to rethink her entire strategy and start again from square one. 

She felt cornered, trapped. Desperate. Unanswered affection seemed to sear the succubus’s entire soul. She couldn’t bear the thought that, despite finally having a window into her beloved’s thoughts through the Apostle, his message to her would be, “You are no longer wanted.”

Blinking away tears from the corners of her eyes, Albedo stood up, dug through her clothes, and resolved herself to at least show she had something to offer before she was relegated to humble deskwork for the rest of her career. 

***

Ainz was in his office, taking a bit of privacy while he reflected on the war-room discussion that had devoured most of the day. 

That’s what a real king looks like, he thought wistfully. Or a real Emperor, I suppose. 

Jir was amazing, genuinely. Ainz couldn’t express how glad he was to have married him. In a situation where a plan carefully vetted by Demiurge and Albedo had gone awry due to a stupid accident, Ainz didn’t know how he could possibly salvage the situation. All he could think of was to encourage them that it would be fine and to go ahead anyway with cracks already showing in the foundation. 

But Jircniv was able to propose a new plan that was good enough to satisfy those two highly intelligent demons. Ainz didn’t know if his husband had come up with that plan in advance or if he thought of it on the spot. Either way, he’d been put under pressure and shined brighter than ever. 

Not only that, but this new plan actually made sense. Jir had explained it all thoroughly so that everyone present, even Ainz and Shalltear, could understand what would happen in which order and why, as well as solid details on how they would achieve each step. 

The documents Albedo and Demiurge sometimes delivered to Ainz for review read more like outlines of a plan. There were too few details, yet they were overly complicated. Only a person as smart as those two would be able to piece together something like that into a practical picture. Of course, they delivered reports that looked like that because they thought Ainz was as smart as they were. But Jir knew better. 

He’s that smart and capable. I’m not sure why he’s so respectful to me. Is it just because we’re friends?

Maybe Jir respected him for being a caring boss and a powerful magic caster? He was basically raised by the strongest wizard known to humanity, Fleuder Paradine. It wouldn’t be strange if he came to admire them. 

While pondering things like that, Ainz heard a knock at his door. 

Why am I getting deja vu? he wondered. 

“Who is it?”

“Lord Ainz, it’s Albedo.”

The overlord pulled his chin back slightly. He guessed that maybe she wanted to apologize again in private for the previous plan going awry and nodded at the maid to open the door. 

The Guardian Overseer entered, wearing a white silk robe that stopped around the middle of her milky white calves. She was barefoot, and her moist, puppy-dog eyes set off instant alarm bells in his head. 

Ainz had minor war flashbacks to the last time he was jumped by the starving succubus, which activated his emotional suppression. 

“Albedo… what are you wearing?”

“Well…” she lowered her chin slightly, twirling a lock of Raven black hair around her finger. “I wanted to apologize. Overseeing matters in the Kingdom was my responsibility.”

“I accept your apology,” Ainz stated cooly. “Was there anything else?”

“Lord Ainz!” the demoness looked at him with small tears in her eyes before lowering her gaze in shame. “I wouldn’t provoke your ire a second time, my lord.” 

Ainz was skeptical, but he found it hard to send Tabula’s daughter away so coldly. “Then what is this?” he asked, giving her a chance to explain things in a way that made sense. 

In answer, the succubus dropped her white robes around her ankles, revealing a shapely and womanly body, full to bursting with vitality and passion, embraced tantalizingly in white silk lingerie. Everything was on display, and yet nothing was: the perfect blend of modesty and lewd temptation. 

Ainz felt his emotional suppression activate, but he didn’t so much have time to metaphorically pick his jaw up off his desk before the demon beauty climbed on top of it. 

She sat on her knees before him, supple, snow-white skin tantalizingly within arm’s reach. Ainz found he wasn’t quite gentleman enough to pry his eyes away from the two hypnotic orbs resting plump and soft right in front of his eyes. 

“I just want to apologize sincerely,” Albedo said in a sweet voice, practically a whisper. “I won’t do anything, my love. Please do whatever you want with me instead.”

“A… A… Albedo,” Ainz could feel his non-existent brain short-circuiting. Memories of his first day in the new world were involuntarily returning. He could still feel that pillowy soft sensation filling his boney hand. 

It took a lot of willpower not to reach out and touch her again. His undead body shouldn’t be capable of feeling lust, but the remnants of his human mind couldn’t help but find the idea tempting. 

“This… this isn’t how you should apologize to a married man, Albedo,” he barely managed to squeak out. 

“Oh my, really?” She reached forward gently and held either side of Ainz’s face in her soft hands. “But the Lord Apostle has his own harem back home. Surely he wouldn’t mind.”

***

Shizu was using her skills as a Sniper to hide both she and the Emperor with her stealth skill. In her own minute way, she expressed shock and embarrassment while recounting to the Lord Apostle what she was hearing inside. 

“Lord Ainz told her this is wrong because he’s married,” the Android intoned. “Albedo… she says it’s fine since you have a harem.”

“That’s enough,” Jircniv interrupted his attendant. 

Shizu felt a shiver of dread run through her body hearing his icy voice. When she peeked up at him, he was pretending to smile politely, but it had the most ominous aura she had ever laid eyes on. 

“Releasing stealth,” the Android announced, dropping her skill and taking a step back out of ample caution. 

The Emperor opened the doors to his husband’s office himself without knocking. Seeing Albedo’s seductive undergarments with his own eyes, kneeling on top of his desk and cradling his face with her hands, painted the scene even bleaker than what he’d been imagining. Moreso because even he acknowledged how visibly stunning she was.

“Jir!” Ainz exclaimed. “I-I know what this must look like, but—”

“Ainz,” Jircniv cut him off with a soft but unyielding smile and a calm voice as firm as iron, “be quiet for a moment, alright?

Thanks to the effects of Jircniv’s wide array of social buffs that bordered on a sixth sense, he didn’t need Ainz to try and explain himself in words. He could sense all of the guilt and discomfort from his voice, his eyes, his posture… even through the door, he could somewhat feel it. 

But the Apostle could also sense Ainz’s excitement and the closest thing to lust the undead had ever expressed in front of him.

He was livid.

“Albedo.” The Apostle’s voice sounded calm, but no one in the room missed the hurricane raging beneath that veneer. The maid in charge of watching the door directly passed out from fear and the eight-edge assassins on the ceiling trembled invisibly, nearly slipping and falling. 

The succubus shivered and tried to hide it by putting on a bold, smiling face and turning her posture slightly.

“Lord Apostle. It’s rather late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Yes,” he beamed, like sunlight blocking the view of a venomous snake’s fangs. “I should be in bed with my husband again tonight, which is why I came to see what was delaying him.”

At the word “again,” a faint crunching sound could be heard from inside Albedo’s mouth. Her expression barely twitched, but she had taken a solid hit. 

“Surely you aren’t upset, Lord Apostle?” Albedo smiled sweetly and dismounted the desk, “I was merely offering the supreme one my sincere apology for failing in my duties.”

The emperor folded his arms and hid his stinger for a moment. He decided to make his strike hurt when he delivered it. “Is apologizing in such a way typical for a succubus?”

“Indeed,” Albedo smiled shamelessly, placing a hand on her voluminous chest. “I understand if a human like yourself might find it unfamiliar, but I hope you could be open-minded.”

“Of course, as the second-in-command of Nazarick there are many heteromorphic species under me. I’m doing my best to understand you all.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m upset about what I walked in on tonight. If you apologize, I’ll overlook it this time.”

The succubus blinked and then smiled sweetly, bowing her head. “That’s most gracious of you, Lord Apostle. I apologize for having upset you with the gap in our cultural sensibilities.”

The emperor frowned. “With more sincerity,” he insisted. 

Albedo gently got down on her hands and knees in a deep bow. “My sincere apologies,” she stated. 

Then her eyes opened in shock and her body shivered when she felt a warm and soft hand covered in cold hard metal rings take and lift her chin. The emperor knelt elegantly and stared into her eyes. 

“Is that what a sincere apology from a succubus looks like?” he demanded. 

There was a cold, calculating madness in his eyes that made the demoness’s blood run cold. Then she realized she had allowed herself to be trapped by her own words like an utter fool. 

If she said yes, then she would be admitting to having impure intentions toward Lord Ainz. If she said no, then the Apostle would have every right to… to…

Would he dare? One glance at his eyes told her he would. 

She couldn’t allow herself to be deflowered by anyone but Lord Momonga! Her very being recoiled at the thought!

The succubus grimaced and raised her voice. “It is!”

She shivered as she felt the Apostle’s grip subtly shift down, until his fingers were gently wrapped around her neck. There was no strength behind his touch, but there was power. One glance at his gaze made her wonder who the demon was between the two of them, as she was beset by tremors of mortal terror despite obviously being too strong to ever be harmed by him. 

“ Then what were you doing earlier with my husband? ” That voice came from a much deeper, darker pit of hell than Albedo. 

“I was seducing him!” She admitted, tears rolling down her face. “I love him! Execute me if you have to, my feelings will never change!”

He released his hold on her, and she collapsed to the floor, her body shaking too much from fear to put any strength into her limbs. He glared down at her with cold eyes before leaning closer. 

“I was thinking of a way to explain it to you gently, so that it would be easier to bear, but you had to go and do something as reckless as this.”

The Apostle whispered into her ear, “Tabula Smaragdina isn’t the one who gave you life. Ainz is. What he wanted to instill in you was the love of a daughter, and you defiled it.”

Albedo trembled in shock and turned her teary gaze up at Ainz. 

“Lord Ainz… you… you love me like a daughter?”

“…Mhm. Yes, that’s correct.” 

The supreme one replied with some obvious discomfort. Of course he would. Albedo had been terribly mistaken all this time. 

“I deserve death,” she stated, pulling herself up onto her knees and hanging her head as if waiting for a blade to fall. “I deserve worse than death.”

Jircniv stood up and pointed her toward the door. “We’ll talk about your punishment later, but know that you’re forbidden to harm yourself. Go now.”

With a trembling lower lip, Albedo scooped up her robes and threw them on to appear decent, then she trotted out of Ainz’s office, overflowing with shame. 

Jircniv’s gaze then found Ainz, who flinched, and he waved his hand. “Everyone else listening is dismissed.”

They all departed, even the eight-edge assassins, since the second-in-command had ordered it and the master of the tomb had not objected. 

As soon as the office was empty aside from the two of them, the Apostle collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily and wracked with a cold sweat. 

“Jir!” Ainz exclaimed. He hurried around his desk to check on him, kneeling down and holding his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, I’m fine,” the emperor held his head and took deep breaths. He couldn’t put strength into his legs anymore after pushing himself too hard while he was already exhausted. “The timing was just bad. I’m suffering from mana exhaustion right now.”

Ainz was confused to hear such a thing, but he didn’t bother to question it before using one of his own skills to transfer some mana to his husband. Jircniv felt his energy quickly returning. Only his lingering headache remained. 

“That’s a lot better,” he mused, genuinely surprised by how quick and easy his recovery was compared to his suffering. The Apostle stood on his feet, since he was able to now, and Ainz followed suit. 

The Overlord fidgeted with his hands like a child who knew they’d done something wrong. “Um, about earlier…” 

Jircniv looked at him plainly for a few moments before shaking his head. “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to marry you. I knew you couldn’t tell her no. It’s my fault for not anticipating she might do something drastic after a big failure like tonight.”

“Jir…” Ainz obviously was happy his husband was being so understanding. 

But he immediately swallowed that relief when the human’s eyes turned sharp. He felt a delicate finger violently prod his sternum.  

“That said, enjoying it is another matter.”

“N-no, it isn’t like I was en—”

Ainz leaned back as Jircniv’s accusatory finger lifted to point at his face instead. 

“You were, don’t lie to me.”

“… I’m sorry.”

Jircniv pulled his hand back and held his forehead with it, shaking his head slowly. “Honestly… Which part did you like?”

The undead blinked his fiery red eyes. “What?”

The human folded his arms, sending up a gaze that was half inquisitive and half judging. “The pose? The outfit? Her mannerisms? Her body?”

Ainz stared at his husband, moderately dumbfounded. “Wh-why?”

The golden emperor smiled confidently and rested a gilded hand on his hip, “Because I can do it better. I can’t suddenly turn into a woman, and I really wouldn’t want to—even if you have some spell or item that would make it possible. But if you want to see something in particular, just tell me.”

He turned to face Ainz squarely, lifting a hand and gently toying with the collar of his robes. His violet eyes sucked in the undead’s gaze and filled him with a numbing, exciting feeling. “If it’s your husband doing it, there won’t be any complications, any guilt, any reason not to just enjoy it. Right?”

He turned around and robbed the overlord of his sweet gaze, strolling toward the door. “So don’t let me catch you ogling anybody besides me. Now come to bed.”

Chapter Text

Jircniv didn’t push Ainz anymore that night. Despite the fact that Albedo had come close to seducing him, she hadn’t succeeded. And she wouldn’t have, either. Not without knowing a way to work around the supreme one’s unusual emotional balance. 

He had interfered with her attempt simply because Ainz had requested that he do so. And because watching it pissed him off.

The Apostle still had to layer more feelings, to tease and tantalize. When Ainz begged for it himself, that would be the time. 

So Jircniv let Ainz stew in his feelings while he had a good night’s sleep, and the following morning, he snapped his husband out of his lingering stupor by sharing his appraisal results. 

That led to them spending the rest of the morning together experimenting with his new skill. Thanks to Ainz supplying the necessary mana, Jircniv was able to use it back to back, and they learned several important details about how it worked. 

First, Jircniv needed a question to prompt the skill with. He couldn’t search for completely open-ended information. Second, the revelations he received weren’t limited by Ainz’s knowledge; their source was unclear. Third, the skill would fail to activate if the information he tried to obtain was something he already knew or was irrelevant to Ainz and his followers. Fourth, the information offered by the skill only covered the past and present, not the future. 

And fifth, triggering multiple revelations back to back resulted in more and more intense pain. Drinking a potion to heal his headaches was a necessity if they were planning to abuse his brain that way.

Sadly there was nothing to be done about the mana exhaustion… or not. Ainz had Pandora’s Actor dig up a pair of earrings buried in the Treasury that increased the wearer’s maximum mana. They didn’t contain much gold, but they were set with gleaming amethysts that matched the emperor’s eyes. Jircniv didn’t believe for a moment this was the only or easiest item to find in the treasury with such an effect, so he was pleasantly surprised by Pandora’s Actor’s consideration and taste in items. Despite his strange personality.

Fully equipped, the Apostle could use his Revelation skill twice in a row without anyone’s help, if he needed to. 

He fiddled with his new earrings and smiled at Ainz. “Well, it’s good that we were able to get a grasp of how it works,” he said.

“That’s true…” 

Ainz sounded disappointed. Was it because they didn’t have any time left to use the skill to learn something useful? Or was it because he would have to part from his reliable husband for a few days? Well, an Apostle could hope.

Jircniv had to leave soon to act as the Sorcerous Kingdom’s ambassador. They couldn’t delay their official response to the Re-Estize Kingdom regarding their convoy which was attacked.

“Is there time for just one more before you go? There’s something I really want to look into.”

“Is it important?” Jircniv smiled. He was very tired of abusing his brain for the kinds of petty information they sought out during their experiments.

The Overlord nodded. “It’s about the person who brainwashed Shalltear. I want to know who they are and how they did it.”

Jircniv blinked in surprise and held his chin. He nodded. That was indeed something serious and shrouded enough that he was willing to go through a little more pain. “I understand. One moment.”

The Emperor sat down at his vanity and took a beautiful notebook and pen out of a ring that acted as a small magic storage. It couldn’t hold much else besides these two items, but just being able to always keep them on him was useful.

The journal was slightly heavy. It was a simple magic item that contained far more pages than its appearance suggested, but its original binding had been replaced with one made of solid gold, elegantly carved and encrusted with gemstones. Given the insights it contained, it had something of a responsibility to look important. And it was basically a given at this point that anything winding up in the Golden Emperor’s hands would be worth a small fortune.

The pen, in contrast, was a sleek and simple white instrument enchanted to never run out of ink. It appeared to be made from a bird’s feather. Jircniv didn’t ask what kind: it was written on one of the first pages in his journal as one of their test questions. It was an angel’s feather.

Flipping the journal open to a new page, Jircniv concentrated on Ainz’s question. After doing this a few dozen times, he could activate his skill without much delay. The instant he realized the sensation of foreign knowledge in his head, he swiftly wrote down all the most important parts. After a few short seconds, as usual, the fluid comprehension transformed into shards of alien logic. 

Jircniv held his head, wincing, and belatedly noticed a blood red potion dangling in front of his face. “Thank you,” he mentioned, taking it from his husband’s grip and downing it in one experienced swallow. The Apostle looked back over his notes, feeling like he was reading them for the very first time.

“Shalltear was brainwashed by a woman named Kaire, from the Slane Theocracy. She used a World Item called Downfall of Castle and Country to do it. They ran into each other simply by accident. Kaire was fatally wounded by Shalltear and later succumbed to her injuries. The Theocracy hasn’t found a suitable new person to equip the item yet.” Jircniv smiled wryly. “I took the time to write that it looks like a beautiful white and gold dress. That kind of makes me want it.”

Ainz nodded, slowly digesting the new information. “It would be better for us to let that world item gather dust in the treasury than to let the Theocracy keep it. I’ll inform Demiurge so he can have his spies investigate… I had been wanting a suitable world item for you to protect yourself with anyway.”

Jircniv smiled at his awkward undead husband and at himself. It’s as if I used the power of revelations just to go clothes shopping, he chuckled at the idea. 

“Demiurge probably won’t do this, but make sure he doesn’t just steal that dress. It would be great if we could convince the Theocracy to publicly gift it to us.”

“I see,” Ainz nodded. “That would be good.”

***

It was afternoon on the following day. Jircniv left his guards and attendants (Shizu, four death knights, and an Elder Lich) outside in accordance with etiquette… or so it seemed. In reality, three Hanzos were following him secretly with their stealth skills, and two shadow demons were hiding in his shadow. 

He, as the Sorcerous Kingdom’s ambassador, was invited into the throne room to stand before the Vaiself royal family and the upper nobility of Re-Estize. 

The carpeted throne room was drab and boring, being that it had been crafted by mortal hands. Jircniv, draped in Nazarick’s most beautiful fineries, seemed to suck all the light in the hall toward him. 

He walked past lines of petty nobles, seeing the astonished and hateful looks on their faces. These people were not under the scope of most of his class buffs, but their levels and abilities alone were not sufficient to hide their feelings from the emperor’s skillful eyes. 

Indignation. Betrayal. Confusion. Envy. Malice. Awe. Surprise… Lust? And more.

Exactly two things bothered him. Firstly, Princess Renner was seated on one of the thrones beside the king, and she was as unreadable as ever. Second, he felt like he was being watched… It was an odd thing to say with all these eyes on him, but…

I’ll check with the Hanzos after this, he decided to err on the side of caution and not dismiss the feeling as paranoia. 

As he reached the end of the carpet, Jircniv stopped his feet and smiled confidently up at the King of Re-Estize. He did not bow. He was a monarch himself.

“It has been a long time, Lord El Nix.” Ramposa III greeted him cordially.

Jircniv tried to recall the last time he met King Ramposa III in person. Was it during my coronation? He smiled wistfully. That was more than a decade ago. He’s certainly aged. 

“Yes it has, your Majesty.” 

“What brings you here today?” 

A question of courtesy. A letter had arrived a few hours in advance of Jircniv’s carriage, so everyone here was already informed about the general topic. The Kingdom had to answer for the actions of their subject or risk war with the Sorcerer King.

“I’m here because the goods the Sorcerous Kingdom was sending to the Holy Kingdom were intercepted by a noble of your country.”

“I see.” King Ramposa stood from his throne and bowed his head. Such a sight caused a stir in the nobles gathered. A king lowering his head was a rare sight. 

“First, I would like to apologize for the actions of that noble. And…” Ramposa raised his head, and the look in his eyes briefly shook Jircniv. He recognized them from his own mirror occasionally: eyes filled with determined willpower and a hint of madness. “Is it possible to resolve this with my head alone?”

Gasps of protest rang out in the audience chamber. Prince Zanac looked the most shocked of all, so apparently the king had not informed anyone of his intentions before now. 

Jircniv analyzed the situation calmly. King Ramposa III is a man who delayed his abdication for years out of worry that his sons would be puppeted by the nobles. For him to offer his own head… Prince Zanac must have impressed him. The death of Gazef Stronoff likely hit him hard as well. 

Jircniv’s plan had accounted for Ramposa’s noble personality, but he hadn’t quite expected him to go this far. 

That was even better.

Jircniv smiled and laughed slightly. “Your Majesty, there’s no need to go that far. I’ll admit, my fiancé was very upset to have his country disrespected in such a way, and we are willing to go to war if we don’t receive proper compensation for this incident, but isn’t the head of the king too high a price to pay for the crime committed?”

With a heavy sigh, Ramposa sat back down on his throne. Echoes of relief filled the throne room, and the slightest hint of hope buzzed in the air. 

“In that case, what will it take to maintain peace between our nations?” the king asked. 

“First, we would like the noble responsible to be turned over to us.” 

The idiot was too stupid to be useful. He was a loose cannon no matter what plan was in play, and leaving him at large was an accident waiting to happen. 

Aside from that, several people in Nazarick were itching to torture him. 

“Alive?” Ramposa asked. 

“Yes. He will be thoroughly interrogated before being publicly executed. After that, his body will be used in the creation of undead.”

There were mixed murmurs. Some were in agreement, while others were laced with displeasure. 

“As a human, how can you endorse the practice of necromancy?” a frustrated noble asked from the sidelines. “Have you no decency?!”

A prickle of irrational anger touched the Apostle’s heart. The fact was that Jircniv had become pleasant acquaintances with plenty of undead after living in Nazarick. He had even fallen in love with one of them. Who was this mongrel to insult them?

This was official business, so Jircniv hid his feelings carefully and turned to the man with a stoic face. 

“His majesty the Sorcerer King is undead himself, so I cannot condone any disrespect toward them in my presence. I will pretend that I didn’t hear anything this time, so don’t force my hand.”

The nobleman gritted his teeth but held his tongue. 

“Lord El Nix,” Ramposa said, “the noble in question hasn’t been fully investigated yet. There is a chance he’s an innocent man who was manipulated by a third party. I’m afraid I cannot hand him over to the Sorcerous Kingdom in good conscience.”

Everyone in the throne room turned to look at the king with incredulous expressions. Was he turning down… peace with the Sorcerous Kingdom? At the first condition, no less?

Jircniv examined him curiously. “Your majesty, are you saying that you would prefer to give up your own head than to sacrifice even one criminal citizen of your kingdom?”

“That’s correct,” Ramposa nodded, looking regal despite behaving like a suicidal moron. 

Jircniv lowered his chin slightly. As expected, he won’t accept the lifeline I’ve given him. The guilt of surviving the Katze Plains Massacre is burdening his decision-making. 

The ambassador turned his gaze to Prince Zanac. “As I stated, we want the noble in question delivered to us. In accordance with King Ramposa’s wishes, please send us his head as well at your earliest convenience.”

The whole room experienced a cold shiver, except for Jircniv. The price for peace had just gone up due to the king’s rash words. 

Zanac abruptly stood up, a moderately panicked look on his face, and ordered the guards at the back of the room. “My father is unwell. Escort him to his room for now.”

“Wha—Zanac!” King Ramposa raised his voice in protest, but the soldiers weren’t eager for death like he was. They obeyed the prince, and Jircniv watched a coup occur right before his eyes. 

As soon as the former king was escorted out, the new King Regent, Zanac, sat down again and addressed the Sorcerous Kingdom’s ambassador. 

“What are the Sorcerous Kingdom’s other conditions, Lord El Nix?” he asked seriously. 

Jircniv smiled faintly. “We would like future convoys between the Sorcerous Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom to be allowed free passage through Re-Estize. We ask that you waive all associated tariffs and tolls, for at least one year.”

The second condition was just a ruse to make it seem as if the Sorcerous Kingdom intended for Re-Estize to endure longer than what they actually planned on. It also did as it appeared and saved them some money. 

Zanac nodded. “Done. Anything else?”

“Truth be told, we’re also suspicious of third parties meddling. It’s hard to understand how this happened otherwise. So we ask that you continue investigating and share with us news of any other culprits you discover.”

As if to assert, ‘we had nothing to do with this incident’ and to show clearly how the Sorcerous Kingdom remembered grudges, Jircniv gave their third demand.

The Apostle smiled mercifully. “And that is all of our conditions.”

Prince Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself forced a somewhat bitter smile on his face. His father had just signed his life away for no reason except for some misplaced pride. He had just staged a coup in front of a foreign dignitary, and his sister was apathetic as always. 

“Whatever is necessary to make amends for this incident will be provided,” he promised. “However, regarding my father, would it be acceptable to keep him on forced bed rest instead? His words earlier were not spoken in a right state of mind.”

Jircniv smiled softly at the prince. “You’re a much better son than I was. Very well.”

The prince sagged slightly in his chair from relief. He understood that this was the candy and the whip at work: he was being rewarded for his quick and clever decisions right now. 

What he didn’t notice was that the nobles had just witnessed the definition of two new faction heads in the kingdom: Ramposa as the symbol of those who opposed the Sorcerer King; and Zanac as the symbol of those who accommodated him. 

Jircniv smiled faintly. It’s almost too easy, he thought, comparing this to his many harsh struggles in these past months. Except for her. 

The princess was still quiet and calm on her throne, like a doll. Her head was surely working furiously to figure out what Jircniv was doing and how Nazarick was taking this upset to her plans. 

“In that case, we have an accord,” Jircniv smiled. “I’ll be staying for a few more days to help deal with any issues that might arise, so please don’t hesitate to schedule an appointment should you need anything of me.”

“Would you like to stay here in the palace?” Prince Zanac offered. 

“That would save us some trouble,” Jircniv smiled. “Can you accommodate my attendants as well? I’ll leave my death knight guards with my carriage, but I would prefer to keep my maid and magical advisor nearby.”

The prince hesitated. He had already received a report that the ambassador was accompanied by the undead and one of Jaldabaoth’s demon maids. He glanced around at the uncomfortable nobles whispering to each other. The upstart imperial prince they liked to call “the False Emperor,” for violently ascending to the throne even before he hit puberty, was now traveling with an entourage of undead and demons with a smile on his face. It was deeply unsettling to them, like bloodshed was always a possibility. And he wanted to bring those creatures into the royal palace?

Of course he did. Jircniv wanted these nobles to feel deeply uncomfortable so that they would quickly sort themselves into the new factions he had prepared for them.

And the man he was requesting this from was the leader of the new faction that favored the Sorcerer King. 

“Of course, they too are dignitaries from our neighboring nation, aren’t they?” Zanac said, forcing a smile on his face. “Are you sure your guards don’t require a room?”

The ambassador reflexively went into Apostle mode, smiling warmly and lifting a finger as he explained, “Just like not all living beings have wisdom, a death knight is barely sentient, akin to a well-trained guard dog. The only consideration needed is to not antagonize them.”

Zanac blinked. “I see.” He shook his head. “Well, I hope you’ll consider joining me for a meal this evening. The servants outside will show you and your attendants to your rooms. Once again, I’m very glad we could come to an understanding.”

“As am I.” Jircniv politely held a hand to his chest, then turned around and walked proudly out of the throne room.

***

It still felt surreal, Zanac thought. His palace was currently hosting Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the Bloody Emperor, and now the fiancé of the Sorcerer King. He was seated at the same dinner table as that legendary monarch, traitor to all mankind… Or was he? Zanac couldn’t shake the feeling that the gorgeous man was trying to help, in the same political, shrouded kind of way that his ally, Marquis Raevan, used to. 

After the Katze Plains, Zanac hadn’t seen Raevan. He had locked himself in his territory to be with his family, and distanced himself from politics. It was somewhat lonely without him around.

It had been an utter surprise to hear that the Sorcerer King, an undead, planned to marry—let alone marry a human man, but… if the Bloody Emperor was half as capable as people said and as beautiful as Zanac was seeing, it didn’t seem that strange after all. 

He wanted to strike up some kind of small talk, but every time he glanced up at the man gilded in gold, his heart skipped a beat and his chest tightened, and he wasn’t able to get a word out. 

The Regent ate his meal rather distractedly, watching the ambassador take slow well-mannered bites of his food. Before he was half done though, he set his silverware down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. 

“I-is the food not to your liking?” Zanac asked, ready to call the chef immediately. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” El Nix said politely, but he made no further attempts to taste it. 

Zanac frowned in worry. Given that this man had been staying with the Sorcerer King for the past few months, there could be any number of explanations for his lack of appetite, and few of them were pleasant. 

Yet, when he searched the man’s figure for signs of malnutrition, Zanac found none. The emperor had a slim but strong body. In fact, it was exactly one of those idealized types of male figure that he had always assumed was unachievable in reality; exaggerated by bards. 

El Nix proved his previous opinion wrong. He looked like a young god or an angel. 

Interacting with him was not very good for the Regent’s self esteem. 

“We can have the chefs prepare something else,” Zanac offered. 

The emperor shook his head and smiled faintly. “No, please don’t worry about it. To be honest, Ainz has been spoiling me and now my tastebuds are ruined.”

The prince blinked. He had considered that possibility, but he was surprised to hear the way the emperor spoke about his fiancé outside of the audience chamber. It sounded like there was genuine affection in his voice. 

“Do you and the Sorcerer King perhaps get along?” Zanac asked curiously.

“We’re friends,” Jircniv smiled brightly. 

Friends with that undead catastrophe… What an odd thing to hear. Zanac quietly clenched his fists around his silverware, leaning forward to ask in a low voice, “What kind of person is he?”

“He’s akin to a god, benevolent to his followers and apocalyptic to his enemies. A man who greatly values people who catch his interest.” 

The prince listened to the ambassador’s eloquent explanation with a faint, burning feeling deep in his stomach. “Can we have enduring peace with him?”

“How else would you make peace with a god?” The ambassador wore an enigmatic smile, and his eyes pulled Zanac in. “Convert.”

The King Regent hummed and tapped his knife against the table, pausing to take another bite of his meal. “You mean become his vassal, like the Empire?” Zanac shook his head. “The people, no, the nobles wouldn’t allow it. We would have a civil war.”

“Then have one.” 

The ambassador casually lifted his glass to drink an apathetic sip of wine, while Zanac stared at him incredulously.

“... What?”

“Didn’t I say Ainz is benevolent to his people?” El Nix made a slightly disappointed face and set the wine down, turning a smart and kind smile to his fellow monarch. “As a king, should you turn away from a war you know you’ll win?”

After proposing that devilish idea, the angelic man stood up from his seat, politely thanked the Regent for the meal, and left for his room.

Chapter Text

Jircniv took a seat in an arm chair in the corner of his guest room. The only thing illuminating the room at this time of night was a small candelabra on a decorative table. His golden layers glittered in the low lighting, like a colony of fireflies.

He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin on his hand, and crossed his legs. He bemoaned the lacking culture of the Kingdom, that the couches in this room for foreign dignitaries weren’t long enough to lounge on. 

“Shadow demon.” At his calling, a pair of yellow eyes lit up in the emperor’s shadow. “Go and trade places with the other one. Ask her highness if she’s free for a chat.”

The golden eyes rippled in the dark and disappeared. A minute or two later, the shadow demon that had been with Princess Renner appeared. Jircniv smiled down at its anxious ocher gaze. 

“What’s that look for? Your job was only to watch over the Princess; none of this is your fault.”

The shade shimmered and wore a better, more confident, demonic expression. 

“Tell me how she’s reacted to all of this. Any suspicious moves?”

The intangible creature had a voice like the hiss of extinguishing candlelight. Jircniv felt it through its attachment to his shadow more than he heard it with his ears. 

The shadow demons had an ability not that dissimilar to one of the passives Jircniv got from his Apostle class. They could vaguely sense the emotions of anyone whose shadow they resided in. According to this one, Princess Renner had been persistently anxious after her carefully crafted plan was interrupted. 

“I see. In that case, we should reassure her.” The demon tried to return, but Jircniv shot a piercing look at its sinking eyes, pulling them back out of the darkness. “Ah, you can stay here with me. I can sense a little too much respect for that devious woman in you. That’s the risk of a long undercover mission, I suppose.”

The demon’s eyes trembled slightly. It’s whisper carried both apology and concern. Jircniv showed it a sweet smile in return. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll forget about her in no time.”

He allowed the creature to fade into the darkness. Meanwhile, the shadow demon he’d sent to invite her highness returned. The princess was relieved to be contacted and very curious about the current state of the plan. 

“Repeat my words carefully,” he told the shadow demon, changing his posture to lean forward on his elbows, his hands clasped between his knees. “She’s to join the pro-Ainz faction for the upcoming civil war. She needs to convince Climb, Unglaus, and the Blue Roses too. We’ll also need her to deliver an inspiring speech to incite the populace.”

The shadow demon expressed its understanding and disappeared. Jircniv leaned back in his chair again and waited patiently, staring at the flickering candlelight until it bored him, then he lifted his free hand and entertained himself with the glittering light from his accessories instead. 

That girl is a monster like Demiurge and Albedo—when she’s not tripping over Ainz. She’ll read into my words and try to squeeze out as much as possible. I’ve given her more than enough to put that scene in the throne room and my one-on-one dinner with Zanac in context, so that should assuage her worries there.

The Princess will be glad to hear we still have a use for her in managing faction distribution and public opinion. It should read as us reducing her glory while increasing her responsibilities; an expected punishment, but a mild one. She’ll likely grasp that this shift in the plan is to ensure we don’t lose any more opportunities in the Kingdom through happenstance. This is a faster, more aggressive way to collect everything we still want here. 

She’ll be analyzing me, too. I arrived as the Sorcerous Kingdom’s ambassador and instigated a coup right in front of her… after selling the Empire to Ainz. She might think I’m a kindred spirit, the Emperor smiled slightly as glittering baubles reflected in his amethyst eyes, A fellow sinner who sold his soul and his nation; the greed to her lust. 

Jircniv dropped his hand and exhaled. He wasn’t really the type to analyze from a distance like Renner was. He was more like Ainz, he liked to meet with people in person, to read their body language and expressions. But he couldn’t be seen alone with the princess, so he had to hope his analysis was on-point. 

Before the critical moment, I’ll use Revelation to ensure no one’s set up to make a mess of things, he thought, subconsciously rubbing the Ceremony Ring on his finger. 

The shadow demon reappeared and shared Renner’s reply. She understood and would work harder to make up for her mistake. Glory to the supreme one. 

Too easy, Jircniv sneered. She knows I never liked her, so I’m sure she’s planning some contingency, but that doesn’t mean she won’t comply. I hate that I can’t ever quite tell her intentions. 

Jircniv was half convinced that Renner was similar to Ainz: she lacked an ordinary human emotional structure. Her mind was alien to him, and he hadn’t interacted enough with her to be able to read it. 

“Good,” he told the shadow demon. “Return to her along with the other one who came with us. Renner’s original shadow demon stays with me. If she does anything unusual, send one of you back to report to me immediately. I don’t care how trivial an oddity it is. Understood? Good. Dismissed.”

“Hanzos,” he called out to the high-level stealth scouts next, and they appeared as if from thin air, kneeling at his feet. “Go and dig up some documents written by Ramposa III by hand. Things that won’t be missed immediately, enough to reconstruct his penmanship.”

They vanished again like they were never there, and the emperor spent some cathartic time removing his jewelry. When they returned, he took the samples they’d brought and examined their wording and speech patterns. 

This should be how he writes professionally, I knew that one. This is how he talks with a close friend like Gazef… This one is under mild duress. Alright. 

Jircniv took out his enchanted journal, using a blank page to forge a letter in the king’s voice. He tore the page out and handed it to the Hanzos, along with the gathered documents. “Take these to Shizu. Tell her to rewrite the letter I wrote but to mimic the king’s handwriting.”

The sniper maid had high dexterity and was good with her hands. It wasn’t exactly a forgery skill, but it would have to do. 

“After that, deliver it quietly to this address, while the owner is alone in his study. Intercept anything he sends in reply.

“Ah, then remember to put these letters back wherever you found them.”

Jircniv yawned after the Hanzos left and climbed into bed. Having gotten used to the soft mattresses and sheets in Nazarick, this felt rough and lumpy in comparison. He glanced absently at the empty spot beside him, staring at it for a moment. 

… Oh. I forgot to ask the Hanzos if anyone was spying on me during the audience earlier. 

Sitting up, Jircniv took his journal and pen out of his spatial ring. That and his wedding band were the only items he never took off. One revelation later, the emperor clutched his splitting head and did his best to focus his eyes on the page he’d just written on. 

[Ainz was spying on me using an item called the Mirror of Remote Viewing. He wanted to see how I did on my first big mission for the Sorcerous Kingdom.]

The Apostle blinked and a cheerful smile and blush subconsciously spread on his face. He put the items away and made himself as comfortable as he could. Thanks to the mana exhaustion, surely, he slept well even on the uncomfortable bed. 

***

Jircniv seemed to be spending his days peacefully in the Re-Estize Kingdom’s royal palace. Few people made appointments to see him, and he seemed content to stay in his room most of the time, taking daily walks through the palace or its gardens as a change of pace. 

Beneath that tranquil image, he was ordering around the shadow demons and the Hanzos almost constantly. It was rather fun. Especially the letter exchange between one particular noble and King Ramposa. One man thought he was receiving encouragement from a surprisingly considerate subject, while the other thought he was taking orders from a sly and cornered king. In reality, both of them were talking to Jircniv. 

The icing on the cake was that he allowed the letters to be delivered by ordinary servants after the first one, so it was an open secret that each man was in contact with someone. 

The ambassador came to dine with the King Regent as usual, forcing himself to swallow some unpalatable food just to have an excuse for this meeting. In reality, he had already equipped an item that provided all the nourishment he needed, thinking he might starve to death here otherwise. 

“Your highness,” seeing faint signs of distress on the regent’s face, the ambassador asked, “is anything troubling you?”

“Ah, well,” he flinched, startled. There were dark circles under his eyes. Taking over his father’s work so suddenly, in as tense a situation as this, must’ve been a lot for him. “I recently discovered who my father has been exchanging letters with, and it’s a rather unscrupulous nobleman… I’m worried what he might be planning.”

Jircniv frowned. “By unscrupulous… you don’t mean Philip Monteserrat or his ilk, do you?”

Zanac’s eyes opened wide, and he shook his head, “No, no! He’s secured in a holding cell, ready for you to take to the Sorcerous Kingdom when you leave. Their faction doesn’t have such easy access to the palace, either.” The prince’s chin dipped slightly. “I’m afraid it’s someone more influential than that.”

Jircniv held his chin and pretended to think. “Hm. Influential and unscrupulous… Ah, could it be Blumrush?”

Zanac stared in surprise and ran a hand down his face, smiling derisively. “Yes. I suppose I might as well have just said it outright.”

“Well, he used to sell me information on your military strength and strategies out of greed,” Jircniv chuckled. “Is there another traitor that shameless in the Kingdom?”

“I hope not,” Zanac shook his head, smiling wryly. “Though I and everybody else who’s on board with vassalizing ourselves to the Sorcerer King must look like traitors to the people. My sister has offered to give a speech in a few days to at least help smooth things over with the general populace.”

“A speech from the golden princess?” Jircniv nodded. “Good idea. That should help.” He frowned slightly. “Though I admit, your sister has always given me an uncomfortable feeling. Like she deliberately pushes reforms she knows will fail… I hope this isn’t one of those.”

The prince stared at the ambassador again with wide eyes. “You noticed it too?” he asked, a hint of camaraderie in his voice and gaze. “Honestly, she’s a monster. Nobody believes it when I say so, though. If I had my father’s charisma, perhaps…”

Jircniv pondered the prince and smiled faintly. “Charisma is extremely important for any leader, your highness, but it isn’t something any human is born with. You have good insight, so focus on training that first. Later, once you know what people’s intentions are, think about what you’d rather they be. Next, practice what to say and how, so that you get what you want. After you’ve mastered all of that, to define yourself as a politician and not just a merchant, pursue appearance, bearing, conviction.” The ambassador winked, “It’s actually a lot of work, no less than any warrior puts into their training.”

“Training, huh?” Zanac reflexively gave El Nix a once over and mentally compared the two of them. He couldn’t imagine any amount of hard work closing that gap. 

But not every charismatic leader was beautiful. His father was a frail old man now, but still he had some ethereal quality that drew others to follow him. Was that conviction, perhaps?

“Do you have any reason to advise me like this, your majesty?”

The Apostle drummed his fingers on the table, resting his chin on his hand. Ultimately, he showed a slight smile. “I know how hard it is to take the reins of a country for the first time; what it’s like to be surrounded by hostile nobles; to have your siblings be rivals instead of allies; to have your closest confidant abandon you. We’ve had similar experiences. Isn’t there a chance you could grow into a splendid ruler like me someday?”

Both of them laughed lightly at the ambassador’s bold-faced bragging. Zanac couldn’t help wondering if this was what having an older brother—a real one, not an egomaniac like Barbro—would feel like. 

“In that case,” the prince leaned forward, “can I pick your brain for a moment, your majesty? You want this endeavor to succeed just as much as I do, after all. What should I do about Marquis Blumrush?”

“Hm.” Jircniv held his chin. “Honestly, I don’t think he’ll be a problem.”

“Really?” Zanac was surprised by that. 

“Well, he’s a greedy man, right?” Jircniv shrugged, his many accessories jingling. “And this is how I’m dressed as the ambassador of the Sorcerous Kingdom. If anything, he might be trying to convince your father to side with the Sorcerer King, so that he can ride his old faction’s coattails while still enjoying greater prospects.”

“I see…” Zanac held his chin, nodding slowly. “You’re right, that fits him perfectly. I suppose I’ll just monitor him for now.”

Jircniv nodded. “Yes, it’s still better to be cautious.”

***

“How could you suggest such a thing?!” Evileye, a magic caster belonging to the Blue Roses adamantite adventuring party, slammed her dainty hands on the tea table and abruptly stood up. 

“Evileye, calm down,” Gagaran urged her.

“Did you not hear what she said?!” the small girl snapped at the giantess. 

“I did, but that’s no reason to act out.”

Lakyus gently set down her teacup, looking at her innocent friend with neither a frown nor a smile. “Princess, do you seriously want us to submit to the Sorcerer King? You know there’s no way we could ever agree to that, right?”

“That’s right!” Evileye clenched a fist in front of her mask. “Even now, Lord Momon is doing everything in his power to restrain that monster, and you want to give him more power and influence?!”

“Is there a reason?” Tia asked. “There must be a reason?” Tina prompted. 

“Of course I have a good reason!” Princess Renner puffed up her cheeks, pouting.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Gagaran gestured. 

Renner put a slightly ditsy but serious expression on her face, raised one pointer finger, and leaned over the table toward her friends. She told them what she knew would convince them. 

“Wouldn’t it help if Sir Momon had more allies?”

The Blue Roses showed surprised eyes, and Lakyus laced her fingers. “Go on.”

“His imperial majesty, Lord El Nix too, don’t you think the Sorcerer King recruited them because of their ability to influence the people?”

“That’s true,” Evileye muttered, holding her masked chin. “Without Lord Momon, the Sorcerous Kingdom would have turned into a blood bath by now, and things only really started to relax after the incident during his wedding announcement with the Bloody Emperor.”

Lakyus gently closed her eyes in thought. “For one reason or another, the Sorcerer King is giving heroic figures just enough power to pacify the populace.”

Princess Renner bobbed her head. “Aren’t there only two reasons for that? Either he would be embarrassed if the country he founded fell apart, or he actually wants to make a peaceful nation!”

“There’s one more,” Tia stated. “He may just be saving all the bad stuff for once his power is secured,” Tina continued. “Either way, there’s merit to joining, even as a ruse,” Tia finished. 

Renner pouted. “Well, whether he wants to make a good nation or a bad one, we can do more to help inside than outside, don’t you think?”

“I don’t hate the idea,” Evileye admitted. 

“Hold on, but why does the whole country have to join him?” Gagaran questioned. “Couldn’t we just change our base of operations as adventurers to E-Rantel?”

“We can’t,” Lakyus shook her head. “The Sorcerer King changed the way adventurers work in his country. They’re more explorers than combat specialists. We would have to travel a lot to keep up appearances, and it would be hard to gather information or act with appropriate timing.”

“That,” Renner drooped her shoulders sadly, “and brother is planning to sign this country over as a vassal either way… I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you all when that happens.”

“The prince is going that far?” Lakyus blinked. 

“He has no choice,” the princess said sadly. “Many of the nobles are plotting against the Sorcerer King as we speak. If another incident like that supply theft happens, it’ll be war. Too many people would die, so he has to take the chance now while he has it.”

“This rotten country,” Tia clicked her tongue. “So that’s what the prince and the pretty-boy emperor have been meeting about lately,” Tina mused. 

“Are you going to help me?” Renner leaned forward and took Lakyus’s hand, making puppy dog eyes at her. 

The leader of the Blue Roses lowered her head and sighed through her nose. “Of course,” she said, showing a bright and confident expression. “I believe it’s the duty of strong adventurers to protect the people.”

Renner’s face lit up and she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad!” she giggled, giddy. “Oh! So that people don’t panic or get hurt when they hear the news, I’m preparing a speech about it. Would you guys help me look it over?”

“Of course,” Lakyus and the others nodded, and the pleasant tea party between them continued. 

***

Princess Renner glanced to her side, where Climb, loyal Climb, was following her. 

She smiled sweetly and lied, “I’m a little nervous.” 

The precious boy looked at her with blatant surprise and concern, then he put on a brave little face to cheer her up. “Don’t worry, my lady. You’ll give a great speech!” He looked around. “But, um, is this the way to the balcony?”

“Nope,” Brain said, hands casually in his pockets. “This is the way to the treasury, right?”

“That’s right,” Renner nodded. “Father asked me to fetch something for him.”

“I see…” Climb didn’t ask anything more. 

When they reached the treasury, Renner used her authority to go inside, alone, and she emerged with a familiar crystal blade in her arms. 

“Razor’s edge?” Climb exclaimed.

“Why does his majesty want it?” Brain asked suspiciously. 

The princess held a finger ponderously to her cheek. “He didn’t say, but… I think he wants to bequeath it to brother later, as an apology.”

That was enough to quiet them for now. They made their way to the king’s room, where he was still locked away under the guise of bedrest. Renner passed by the guards with the blade in hand, entered his majesty’s room, and came out a few minutes later without the blade. 

“Shall we go?” she smiled at her two guards. 

Shortly after that, she was standing on a balcony high above the palace lawn, giving a heartfelt and inspiring speech to the masses. She assured them that by joining the Sorcerous Kingdom as vassals, they would be safe and protected, and humans would still rule over humans, just like in the Empire. She touched the hearts of those grieving lost loved ones who died on the Katze plains, and warned them that if they stayed opposed to the Sorcerer King, that tragedy would only repeat someday. It was an effective use of the carrot and stick, guiding public opinion to the relatively palatable idea that joining the Sorcerous Kingdom was safer than opposing it. 

Behind her on the balcony, Brain and Climb were standing attentively as bodyguards when Unglaus noticed suspicious movements on some neighboring roofs. He squinted his eyes and managed to make out a human figure carrying what looks to be a crossbow. 

The swordsman leaned toward Climb and whispered. “I’m going to take care of something real quick. You guard the princess.”

The soldier boy nodded seriously and kept his hand ready near his sword hilt. Brain leapt off the balcony with a mighty kick of his legs and landed on a nearby rooftop, sprinting with agile steps toward where he saw the suspicious figure. 

Renner noticed something was wrong, but she put her trust in her two capable guards and continued her speech, drawing the people’s eyes away from whatever was happening on the rooftops and back to her charming voice and beautiful ideals. 

Meanwhile, from an open window in another tower, Prince Zanac and Jircniv were listening to the princess’s speech as well. 

“As expected of that monster, she has them eating out of her hands,” Zanac said with a bitter smile. 

Jircniv frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Did one of her guards disappear just now?”

As the ambassador looked around, searching for the missing Unglaus, his eyes widened. “Prince!” Zanac just had time to perceive an arrow head, inches from his eyes, before he felt a heavy impact. His senses returned to him while he was sprawled on the floor, ambassador El Nix on top of him, his hair and clothes somewhat disheveled from the sudden tumble. 

“Are you alright, Prince Zanac?!”

Slowly, as realization settled in, Zanac started to shake. “A-assassin!” he shouted, rushing to stand. The ambassador forced him back down with surprising strength. 

“There could be more arrows, your highness! Stay low and away from the windows!”

Zanac nodded and began crawling along the floor, entrusting his life in the emperor’s hands until they could reunite with their guards. 

Meanwhile, up on the rooftops, Brain knocked out the archer he’s spotted, just to spot another man on a different roof. He hurried along, dispatching them one by one. His keen ears heard the sound of an arrow launching and looked toward the princess in panic. 

She wasn’t hit by that arrow, thankfully, but Brain’s instincts still screamed in worry. 

And then he watched a dark and shrouded figure come out of stealth directly behind the princess. 

He was already sprinting back toward her as fast as he could, shouting a warning, but he was forced to watch as a crystalline blade plunged forward through her delicate chest. Blood spurted and stained the front of her dress. The people below screamed. 

Climb screamed too and swung his sword at the assassin, but they vanished back into stealth again. Even Brain’s keen senses could barely register them anymore. Climb cradled the princess’s body, pulling the sword from her chest and pouring as many potions as he had to try and stop the bleeding. Brain shot past them both, dropping off a few higher-tier potions from his belt on the way, and tried to catch the assassin’s tail. 

Just when he thought he was getting close, he ran into a commotion down the hall. Prince Zanac and ambassador El Nix were in the hallway, surrounded by attendants and shouting. 

“We need to catch at least one of them alive!” Zanac shouted while the Royal doctor treated some minor bruising on the back of his head. “We need to interrogate them!”

The ambassador’s demon maid was fussing over her charge, straightening out his hair and jewelry, while he demanded of his Elder Lich attendant, “Message my death knights immediately! Tell them to go to the roofs and capture anyone they find alive!”

Brain realized that this was where the fired arrow had been shot at. And he realized that he had lost the trail of the assassin. 

So instead, he shouted at the gathered crowd, which included the royal doctor and a powerful undead magic caster, “Princess Renner has been stabbed! She needs healing!”

Zanac and El Nix turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“Sister?” Zanac murmured. 

The ambassador scowled and started running up the hall, pulling the Elder Lich with him. “I forbid her to die!” he shouted. 

“My Lord, I only know Minor Cure and carry a few potions with me.”

“Then you can at least help!”

The Prince snapped out of his stupor and ordered the royal physician. “Why are you still tending to me?! My sister’s been stabbed!”

“Y-yes, you highness!”

Soon the whole assembly was running to the Princess. 

However, they found her in Climb’s arms, as he wept and wailed over her limp, bloodless body. 

***

Several of the archers were captured, and they admitted to being hired by Marquis Blumrush. However, the sword that had killed Princess Renner was one that multiple eyewitnesses had seen her delivering to King Ramposa shortly before her speech. When a party went to question and check on his majesty, they found him dead by poisoning, with no signs of a struggle. He lay slumped over his desk, atop a tear-stained letter. 

In his own hand, he confessed that he had incited the Marquis to help him kill his own children. He thought that royals who would sell out their people to an undead monster were better off dead, and he lamented his failure as a father. 

The palace was in a frenzy and the prince was in shock. 

Jircniv’s face hurt from desperately holding back his madman’s smile. His plan had gone perfectly. 

Chapter Text

The princess’s body was clothed in a beautiful white gown. She held a bouquet of assorted flowers from her beloved garden, peacefully laid to rest in an elegant wooden coffin. Many grieving people were paying their respects, including Climb and Brain, the Blue Roses—especially Lakyus—and King Zanac. 

Beside her coffin was another, even grander, but closed to withhold respect, for the man inside was widely believed to be a kinslayer.

This atmosphere was just a little bit uncomfortable for Jircniv, given that he was the culprit who had plotted their deaths. 

It was he who turned Marquis Blumrush into a distraction and a scapegoat, which would give him no choice but to double down and rebel or face execution. It was he who ordered Princess Renner to remove Razor’s edge from the treasury and deliver it to her father’s room, letting her believe the King was his main target and that she was in on the plan. It was he who ordered a Hanzo to poison the king and steal the blade, just to plunge it into Renner’s dainty rib cage. 

He had written her father’s suicide note himself—the words it was composed of, anyway. 

Jircniv was accustomed to smiling even when the world was crashing down around him, so feigning sorrow was a bit tiring. 

“Hey, Lord El Nix,” Zanac murmured beside him, heavy bags under his eyes from a sleepless night. “How would you cope with this situation if you were me?”

The emperor set a hand on the King’s shoulder and showed a sad, sympathetic smile. “You and I aren’t on a last name basis still, are we, Zanac? You need powerful allies. I’d suggest the Blue Roses. You can bond with them over the death of your sister and stoke their sense of justice. The Marquis is cornered now, so a civil war is imminent. Don’t lose and don’t miss out on your chance to crush as many dissenters as possible. If you need more advice, I’ll exchange letters with you anytime.”

Zanac glanced up at the bloody emperor and smiled faintly. “Jircniv, no, brother Jir, can I call you that?”

“I don’t mind,” he shook his head. 

“Then, brother Jir… did my father really try to have me killed?”

Jircniv felt his mouth twitch at the corner and held his hand over his face to hide it, shutting his eyes and pretending to mourn. He peeked his eyes open slightly to meet the new King’s gaze, and they were piercingly insane. Zanac didn’t so much as flinch. 

“Good insight,” Jircniv whispered a compliment. “No. He was impressed with your performance lately and loved you deeply.”

A small smile cracked on the King’s face. “I see. I’m grateful to know that.” He sighed and turned his tired gaze to the ceiling. “It couldn’t be helped, right? More citizens of this nation have to survive in order to offer themselves to the Sorcerer King, right?”

Jircniv nodded, but, “I don’t mind if you hate me for it.”

“No,” Zanac shook his head slowly. “I would have done the same. It’s too bad I can’t be an inspiring King like my father, but I don’t see much hope for our survival if we just cling to ideals. I’ll thank you for getting rid of that monster while you were at it. So please make good use of me for a while longer, and I’ll be using you too.”

Jircniv smiled. King Zanac was a utilitarian and a realist, but he truly cared for his country and its people. It really is like having a cute little brother, he mused. 

“I don’t mind at all. Our goals align, so let’s use each other, brother.”

Tired and in need of rest, Zanac stood and left the funeral early, but Jircniv stayed a little longer. He still had one more thing to do here before he could go. 

When there were only three living humans left in the room, he approached Climb and Brain. Climb was sitting red-eyed on a pew after crying for hours over Renner’s corpse, completely spaced out. Brain was doing what he could to quietly comfort the boy. 

“Hello,” the Ambassador greeted them. 

Climb didn’t so much as look his way, but Brain offered him a nod and a quiet greeting back, smiling somewhat condescendingly. 

“Hey there, mister emperor. Thanks for trying to save the Princess with us. I didn’t think someone in bed with the Sorcerer King would care about a human life.”

“I’m human too, aren’t I?” he chuckled, taking a seat beside them. 

“Hell if I know,” Brain shrugged. “You don’t seem like a monster, but I once met one just as pretty.”

“I think I’m prettier than Renner was,” he shrugged.

“Not her,” Brain shrugged. “A vampire girl. She was a monster so strong I couldn’t so much as cut her fingernail with my sword. I’ve long since known humans have limits… but I wanted to at least protect this kid and his happiness.”

Jircniv felt his Apostle buffs flickering and his intuition prickling. “Did this vampiress have a name?”

“Like I could ever forget it. Her name was Shalltear Bloodfallen.”

Jircniv held in a burst of irritation. Shalltear, you moron! You fought with Brain Unglaus and didn’t report it?! It better have happened before your memory loss from being mind-controlled, or I’m going to scold a hole through your ear when I get back. 

Well, he would forgive her just a little bit, since he was free to use her now. 

“Oh, Shalltear? I know her.”

Brain turned his neck suddenly and stared at the ambassador’s calmly smiling face with wide eyes. “… Seriously?”

“Yes,” Jircniv nodded. “A buxom silver-haired girl, likely wearing a plum-colored dress and bonnet. Right?”

“How… do you…” the swordsman’s brain seemed to be short-circuiting. “Is she with the Sorcerer King?!” he whispered

“She is, and she’s my good little student too.” The ambassador leaned in and whispered. “On that note, I have a job offer for you. Care to be my attendant? I’m lacking in human company lately, but it’s a stressful position for an ordinary person, and I don’t want to drag my loyal knights into it.” Jircniv smiled cheerfully. “You’re about as strong as my current maid is, and already disillusioned, so I think it’s a good fit. What do you say?”

Unglaus gave a slack smile and accidentally laughed aloud before covering his mouth and holding the rest of his humor in. 

“Hey, hey, this is a funeral, don’t just hit me with something that funny!” He frowned. “If what you said is true, isn’t everything completely fucked up?”

Shalltear had briefly encountered Brain while disguised as one of Jaldabaoth’s servants. Of course, Jircniv had revealed this much knowing he would probably put the pieces together. 

“Right.” he didn’t deny it. 

The swordsman sighed. “I have a condition.”

“Which is?”

He jabbed his thumb at the completely disconnected Climb. “You wanted human company, right? Well this kid was my motivation to not kill myself, so you’d better not let him die.”

Jircniv felt the scales weighing in his head, then he nodded at Unglaus. “That I can do.”

The emperor stood up and walked around, standing in front of Climb and waving a glittering hand in front of his face. “Snap out of it, kid.”

The Evoker’s voice penetrated the boy’s ears and pulled him out of his dark and quiet mind. His blurry eyes looked up and began to take in the ambassador's golden silhouette, and his lips moved weakly. “Your… imperial majesty?”

Jircniv smiled brightly, boldly, and spoke with vigor, “Get up, Climb. Is this as far as you go?”

A light shimmered back to life in the boy’s eyes, as well as tears, and his face contorted in misery again. “Where am I supposed to go without her highness?”

Jircniv placed one fist on his hip, leaning forward and poking the young soldier on the forehead. “With me, of course. I heard a story that the princess picked you up for fun one rainy day.” He stood tall again and offered one hand to Climb, palm-up. “Lucky you. Lightning struck you twice.”

Scenes from the soldier’s youth rose up in his mind again. The boy had just lost his master, his job, his home, and his family. It was like he was back to being an abandoned street urchin. And, just like the last time he was at his lowest, an Angel extended a hand toward him.

The boy gritted his teeth as he grimaced in deep sorrow and gratitude. His eyes began to spill tears as he clasped the Golden Emperor’s hand. 

Jircniv smiled softly, feeling his buffs activate one by one as the soldier boy switched to his camp. Climb clung to his hand like it was his only lifeline. The emperor exhaled a short sigh and patted the boy’s head. “It’s good you have some experience serving a Princess. You’ll be held to a much higher standard working for me. Can you do it, Climb?”

“I can do it!” he shouted, full of vigor. He stared up at Jircniv with anguished, grateful, highly motivated eyes. “I won’t disgrace you, my lord.”

Brain watched the two of them, his mouth hanging slightly open. Even he was feeling suddenly loyal and motivated just as an onlooker. Brain still remembered the dark place he had been in after fleeing from Shalltear the first time. It took a long time and a lot of help from good people to get him out of that state of mind. 

Blinking and sucking in a breath, the swordsman stood up and bowed. “Forgive me, lord. Do you have room for one more?”

Jircniv smiled warmly. “I have room for the whole of the human race under me. Feel free to join in, Unglaus.”

Unglaus showed a charming, roguish smile. “Just call me Brain, boss.”

***

Jircniv returned to the Sorcerous Kingdom, bringing with him two new servants, a wanted criminal, and nothing but good news. He didn’t spend time acclimating Climb and Brain to the insanity that was his life, dragging them right into the deep end via a gate leading directly to the ninth floor of Nazarick. 

Sebas was there waiting to receive them. 

“Sir Sebas?!” Both men exclaimed in pleasant shock. 

The old butler smiled at them both and then bowed his head at Jircniv. “Welcome back, Lord Apostle. How was your mission in the Re-Estize Kingdom?”

“It was very dramatic, but I accomplished all of our goals. I’ll report directly to Ainz in a moment.”

“Of course. Good work.”

“A-apostle?” Climb murmured. 

Sebas smiled at them both kindly. “While the Lord Apostle and Lord Ainz are meeting, I would be honored to instruct you two in the basics as a servant of Nazarick.”

“Nazarick?” Brain asked, glancing around the lustrous halls in disbelief. 

“The real capital of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Jircniv smiled, clasping both of their shoulders and leaning in to whisper. “Every being here is one of Ainz’s most loyal subjects, understand?”

Climb and Brain nodded tensely, and Sebas gestured down the hall. “Well then, please follow me, Sir Climb, Sir Brain.”

Jircniv waved goodbye to his two new attendants, and Shizu muttered, “The little one is cute, like a puppy. I like him.”

“He should be able to adapt well,” Jircniv chuckled. “More importantly, I want to see my husband.”

Shizu peeked at his glowing face. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m always smiling.”

The Android pouted. Jircniv laughed brightly as he led them toward Ainz’s office. 

***

Ainz had the span of a short knock before his office doors opened and Jir strode in. 

“I’m back,” he declared. 

Like his attire, his face was shining brightly. Ainz mentally compared it to parting a curtain for the sunlight to pour in. He smiled in his heart. 

“Welcome back, Jir. Good work out there.”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Ainz jumped slightly, seeing the knowing smile on the Apostle’s face. 

Eh? Did he know I was watching him? How?

Ainz had tuned in to all the big moments in the Kingdom using the Mirror of Remote Viewing. At first, it was to make sure that nothing went wrong, but later it was to watch the ambassador’s dramatic performance. Since Ainz knew the whole plan, it felt like watching a soap opera. 

But as far as he knew, Jircniv didn’t have any skill to detect magical surveillance, and it was such a random and unimportant thing to waste his revelations on. 

Am I just that easy to read? Ainz wondered if his clever husband simply knew him that well. 

The Overlord cleared his non-existent throat, “Well, yes. It was very entertaining.”

Jircniv walked around Ainz’s large wooden desk and hoisted himself up with his hands to sit on its edge. He sent a sultry gaze down at the Overlord’s flaming red eyes. “Then it was worth doing.”

Ainz realized his hand was reaching toward the human’s face. He redirected it slightly to comb his soft golden hair back, then took the Crown of Solomon out of his inventory to return it to its place. 

The emperor’s presence and light seemed to swell to fill every corner of the room. His grand self wasn’t something that could be contained by his human form alone. Only the Overlord’s incorruptible aura stood against the tide, abyssal black and deathly white, while the rest of his office seemed to bathe in gold. 

The emperor held his hand out, palm down. “I’m happy you were watching over me, but I still missed you, Momonga.”

Ainz laughed faintly. Am I part of the soap opera too now? He thought, taking the emperor’s hand and gently pressing his teeth to the back of the many glittering rings. “I missed you too, Jir.”

He was mildly surprised to look up and see the usually flawlessly poised man with flushed cheeks. It was maybe the most beautiful smile Jir had shown him yet. 

Ainz couldn’t quite wrap his head around how he seemed to only grow more beautiful as time passed.

Chapter Text

Not that long ago, the Bloody Emperor was just a vague concept in King Zanac’s head. Now, he knew the man as well as his own siblings. 

It was fitting that his moniker had widely changed to “Golden Emperor” these days, because he was a lot like Renner. Just like that monster, Jircniv was highly intelligent, schemed relentlessly in order to get what he wanted, and was considered an angel in the eyes of the public. 

But he was his own person too. Unlike Renner, Jir actually cared about his people. That was why Zanac was genuine every time he called him brother. 

His new sibling in all but blood had been of immense help these past few months. Zanac exchanged letters with him frequently during the civil war, and his insight, along with occasional clandestine assistance from the Sorcerer King, ensured that Zanac’s forces and the civilians had seen shockingly few losses since the start of the conflict. Nobody had starved to death in the chaos, none of the assassination attempts against Zanac had succeeded, and they had been able to wield morale and tactics to win every frontal battle with their own strength. 

Renner never would have gone out of her way to be so merciful and humane. She would only pretend to look good in front of her pet, then ensure something went wrong so she could have him comfort her, nevermind what happened to those she abandoned. 

Zanac had been training himself throughout the war, just as Jircniv had advised him to do, and he had gained significant insights beyond the direct contents of his brother’s letters. 

Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix was a man overflowing with ambition and well-deserved pride. Having lived his whole life as an imperial prince, an emperor, and the Sorcerer King’s fiancé, he had experienced all the most dire situations a human could imagine, as well as all the heights of pleasure. So although he was spoiled and pampered even beyond fellow royalty like Zanac, his eyes were fixed clearly on reality and he never let his guard down completely. 

But the most surprising thing Zanac had been able to glean was that Jir had genuinely fallen in love with his fiancé… with Ainz Ooal Gown. 

During the civil war, Zanac couldn’t spare much time or effort on gathering information from foreign nations, but even he was aware that the Emperor had dissolved his harem back in the Empire and was doing everything he could to improve his husband’s image in the eyes of the public. 

Despite him being an ambitious man who enjoyed being pampered, Zanac didn’t think material benefits alone were enough for a man like Jircniv to fall in love. Even as a champion for the continued survival of humanity (nevermind that many fools still saw Jircniv as a traitor to his race), the safety so powerful a man as the Sorcerer King could offer their frail species still surely didn’t justify love. 

So Zanac had concluded, to his immense relief, that the terrifying undead ruling the growing nation just across the border was a good man. 

He trusted Jircniv’s judgment that much, in other words. Zanac had only ever known three people who could see through to Renner’s hideous true self, and he had great faith in each of them as judges of character. One of them was himself, of course. 

Following the judgment of such people had turned out to be a good policy, so far. It had taken two months, but he was just in time to attend his brother’s wedding and give him the good news: The civil war was won. Re-Estize would become a vassal nation to the Sorcerous Kingdom. 

What a perfect wedding gift for his brother, right?

“Should you be smiling, your highness?” Evileye asked. She was seated across from the king in his carriage, since he had successfully recruited the Blue Roses to his side during the civil war. “We’re already late to the ceremony.”

“Sorry we weren’t faster, your highness,” Lakyus bowed her head. 

“There was no helping it,” Zanac generously turned her apology down. “I already owe you ladies for escorting me the morning after a night raid.”

The Blue Roses had stormed Marquis Blumrush’s estate, capturing him and his family. It was the final assault to end the civil war, and frankly, it had been done in quite a rush. Blumrush had sequestered himself thoroughly in his final moments. 

But Zanac had selfishly requested to drag the Marquis out so that he would be free to attend his brother’s wedding, and the Blue Roses had done everything they could to make it happen. 

“I’ll say this again,” Evileye mentioned, “don’t let your guard down around the Sorcerer King just because the Emperor is close with him. We can’t trust him.”

“Yes, of course, lady Evileye,” Zanac smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be sure to judge him with my own eyes.”

“Hello? Zanac, can you hear me?”

Hearing a voice suddenly inside his head, Zanac’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter. “Brother Jir?!” he exclaimed, peering out the carriage windows as if he would see the Golden Emperor outside. 

“What’s happening, your highness?!” Evileye demanded while Lakyus grabbed the hilt of her magic sword. 

“I-I hear him in my head.”

The mysterious magic caster of Blue Rose sighed and lowered her guard significantly. “That’s probably the Message spell. I know magic is underutilized in the Kingdom, but… For now, think back a reply.”

“I-I can hear you, brother Jir,” Zanac thought. 

“Good. This is my first time doing something like this myself, but I asked them to let me try it. Ah, I’m talking to you using a spell called Message. Aren’t scrolls amazing? Even someone who’s not a magic caster like me can use them.”

Zanac sighed, his heart gradually returning to its usual pace as Lakyus also let her guard down. 

“It’s certainly the Message spell,” he confirmed for the others. “Why are you contacting me like this, brother? I was startled.”

“Sorry for that, but a letter would have been too slow. I just got a report that you’ve crossed the border. I’m thrilled that you’re coming to my wedding, Zanac.” The Golden Emperor sounded genuinely delighted. “But aren’t you going to miss the ceremony at this rate?”

The King of Re-Estize grimaced. “There were unavoidable circumstances. We just barely managed to end the war in time.”

“Even better news, the war is over,” the Emperor’s voice was almost a purr. “You really worked hard, Zanac. You didn’t even need my help for the final push.”

Zanac’s heart warmed at the praise from the only sibling whose acknowledgement he cared about. “I couldn’t have done it without all of your help along the way, brother.”

Jircniv’s voice over the message sounded playful. “Well, we can talk at length during the reception. And I need to wrap this up soon; the maids are rushing me to get ready. Would you like me to send a Gate so you can arrive directly outside E-Rantel?”

Zanac sat up in his seat again. “Can you do that…? No, I mean I would greatly appreciate it if you did.”

Jircniv’s laugh was positively joyous. “I’m about to be the Sorcerer King’s husband. What can’t I do? Alright, I’ll send over a familiar face so you can convince your guards—yes, I mean Evileye—that the way is safe. See you soon, Zanac.”

“Yes, thank you.”

There was a vague feeling like an ethereal thread snapping, and Zanac instinctively knew the spell had ended. 

“What did he say?” Evileye rushed him. 

“He said they noticed us crossing the border and offered to open a Gate so we can be there on time.”

“A Gate?” Evileye’s voice was low. “As your guard, I can’t advise going through something like a Gate, your highness. We can’t know what’s on the other side.”

Zanac couldn’t help laughing briefly. “Ahaha, forgive me, lady Evileye, I’m glad you’re so cautious on my behalf. But my brother expected you’d be that way. He said they would send through someone we know to confirm the Gate’s destination.” 

The thought of experiencing magical transportation for the first time was quite exciting to Zanac. The Kingdom’s policy has long been to prioritize warriors over magic casters, but he had never supported it. Magic could be extremely powerful in capable hands, you didn’t have to look far to see that. 

Meanwhile, Evileye muttered to herself, “Message is a second tier spell. I’ve never heard of the Golden Emperor being a magic caster, but it wouldn’t be too strange if he learned a few things from Fleuder Paradine or the Sorcerer King.”

“He said he used a scroll,” Zanac intruded on her thoughts. 

The slight woman looked up at him and nodded, “So that’s it.”

A moment later, the carriage came to a halt, and the horses whinnied nervously. A little ways down the road, a swirling dark abyss the size of a house had appeared with its toothless maw agape. While Zanac peered out the window at it in amazement, excitement, and some nervousness, the Blue Roses entered their battle-ready formation—just in case. 

Two familiar faces walked through, momentarily stunning the adventurers. 

“Cherry boy?!” Gagaran shouted, a poorly hidden look of relief on her gruff face. 

“Climb!” Lakyus exclaimed, “Sir Brain! I’m relieved to see you two are alright.”

The two former citizens of the Kingdom looked hale and hardy. They were dressed in crisp black suits, as they were to act as servants during the wedding. 

Gagaran risked lowering her weapon and taking a few steps closer. “What were you thinking?! Running off to the Sorcerous Kingdom without saying anything? Do you know how worried we were about you?”

“Lady Gagaran,” Climb bowed at the waist, “I’m deeply sorry for worrying you all. I can assure you, the Lord Apostle has been very good to us.”

Brain gave the procession a casual wave. “He means Lord El Nix, just to be clear. Climb, they wouldn’t recognize that title outside of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“My apologies.” Ever the serious boy, Climb bowed his head low. 

“We’ve heard it,” Tia cut in. 

“There are songs about the Golden Emperor spreading in the Kingdom that call him Lord Apostle,” Tina added. 

“Ah, those songs bother me a little,” Lakyus murmured, folding her arms and furrowing her brow. “Does Lord El Nix have a religious role in the Sorcerous Kingdom? As a faith caster myself, I find it hard to accept a completely secular figure being referred to as an Apostle.”

“He does!” Climb asserted, eyes shining. “The Lord Apostle is practically an angel!”

Brain set a hand on Climb’s shoulder and interjected, “Well, before you accuse the kid of being brainwashed, Lord El Nix legitimately has the Apostle class.”

“I’ve never heard of a class called Apostle,” Evileye spoke up curiously. “What kind of job is it?”

“It’s a rare-tier job that improves communication between a figure of worship and their followers,” Brain told her. “Ainz Ooal Gown is powerful enough for people to consider him a god… specifically to fear him like one. Lord El Nix unlocked the class by mediating for him.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Lakyus folded her arms and frowned. “I haven’t heard of a class by that name even in the Theocracy. Don’t you think at least one Apostle would have appeared by now in a religious nation like that?”

Climb finally pulled himself together and was able to give a serious answer. “There was never a big misunderstanding in the Theocracy regarding the will of their gods that would require an Apostle to help mediate.”

Zanac leaned his head out of the carriage window and joined in the conversation, “You’re saying there is a misunderstanding regarding the will of the Sorcerer King?” 

Climb nodded. “After the Katze Plains massacre, the world thought of his majesty as a violent and evil undead, but—”

Lakyus interjected darkly, “Climb, you’re not going to convince me that a man who killed 70,000 people with one spell is anything but a mass-murdering monster.”

Brain nodded. “Lord El Nix has been able to convince people exactly that. That’s why he’s an Apostle.”

“What kind of cult is forming in the Sorcerous Kingdom right now?” Evileye asked worriedly. 

“Pardon me,” Zanac interrupted, “but we must be straining whoever has to keep this Gate open.”

“Are you sure you want to go through, your highness?” Evileye turned around to ask. “Your brother’s becoming a cult leader.”

Zanac contemplated supposedly the smartest and strongest member of Blue Rose. You didn’t even realize what kind of monster my sister was. I’m sorry, Evileye, but I can’t trust your judgment on matters like this. 

In Zanac’s eyes, as competent as Evileye was, she wasn’t as powerful a magic caster as the Sorcerer King or as brilliant a mind as his brother. She was quite the big fish, but they were in the ocean now. 

“Why don’t we at least judge the situation with our own eyes,” Zanac smiled.

The King’s words were final, so the Blue Roses got back into formation and rode through the Gate. As promised, it let them out on the road just outside of E-Rantel. 

***

Light streamed into the E-Rantel palace through tall, clear windows, brightly illuminating the throne room. Jircniv refused to allow the foreign dignitaries witnessing his wedding any opportunity to look down on the Sorcerous Kingdom, so he had opened up the treasury, to Ainz’s moderate dismay, and built this place. 

The investment paid for itself when his Golden Emperor class finally hit its maximum level as a result.

The city’s population was far from capacity, still, so it was easy to find space by demolishing a few unused buildings. The former mayor’s castle would act more as an administration building, which was closer to its original intention. Meanwhile, the new palace existed to show the culture and prosperity of its masters. 

In architecture and decor, it was a hybrid of the Nazarick and Imperial styles, built by magic, monsters, and the best craftsmen the King Consort could readily get his hands on. Jircniv considered it the second most beautiful structure in the surrounding nations, after the Great Tomb itself. 

Jircniv had undertaken many endeavors in the Sorcerous Kingdom in the three months since his debut as an ambassador, and all of them cemented his standing and virtue in the hearts of the citizenry, but constructing this palace was the most awe-inspiring.

It was evident, Jircniv happily noted, watching the wedding guests almost universally fail to keep their eyes from wandering in wonder. 

They were enjoying the reception already. The ceremony had taken place in the morning, and of course it was wonderful. He and Ainz were wearing the same outfits they wore last time, but most other things had changed. The decorations were more in line with the cultures of the surrounding nations, and Ainz hadn’t officiated the ceremony himself. The foreign leaders would have found that incredibly strange. 

Instead, they had Pestonia use a scroll to summon a 10th tier angel, the closest thing to a god that could be summoned, to officiate it for them.

But now that that was over, people were drinking, socializing, and delivering gifts to the newlyweds. Jircniv and Ainz were seated on their thrones precisely to receive those gifts. 

Most of them brought things like art or jewels. Jircniv thought it was amusing to watch riches pile up at his feet when he was covered head to toe in gold already. He chuckled faintly, and it caught Ainz’s attention. 

“What is it, Jir?”

“Nothing,” Jircniv gently swirled a champagne glass he was enjoying. “Just a wandering thought that amused me.”

He lifted the glass for a sip and furrowed his brow slightly in dissatisfaction. The fine dining ware was turning from clear crystal into solid gold. It spread out from his fingers like ice on a window pane, and completely subsumed the original material within a few seconds. 

The liquid inside was now solid gold as well.

“What a waste,” he murmured a complaint. 

This phenomenon wasn’t new to him anymore. It was a side effect of the skill he learned when he mastered his Golden Emperor job, called Midas. By spending mana, he could elevate the value of items and materials he touched, or temporarily reinforce his own body—by turning his skin into gold as armor, for example. Sure, gold wasn’t as good for weapons or protection as steel, or even iron, but it was far superior to human skin. Unfortunately, in addition to those useful effects, the skill was apparently a cursed one. It would occasionally activate on its own, turning something he was touching into gold. 

That could be inconvenient for obvious reasons, but at least the skill didn’t use up his mana when it acted up. 

The worst things that had happened because of this cursed skill so far were chipping his tooth on an apple that suddenly turned to gold, and turning one of the homunculus maids into a golden statue. But, with a little healing magic and curse removal magic, both of them were right as rain again. The value of the skill in terms of their national economy far outweighed its detriments. As long as they kept a close eye on inflation they would never lack for wealth.

Ainz barely had to look for a server before someone appeared to replace Jircniv’s drink with a fresh one. 

“Just throw it in the treasury with the rest,” the King Consort ordered, lounging back in his throne with his fresh glass. He glanced at Ainz, “I think Apostle is close to hitting its maximum level. Do you think I’ll get a new skill from that too?”

“It is a rare job after all,” Ainz pondered. “If it doesn’t give you any new skills, it should raise your stats by a significant margin instead.”

“More mana would always be useful,” the consort smiled. 

A familiar face approached the two thrones. Clad in a king’s raiment, Zanac knelt before the recently (publicly) married couple, along with a few surviving nobles of Re-Estize, including Marquis Raevan, who kept quietly to himself. 

“Your majesties,” he greeted them deferentially. There was no package in his arms or in the arms of any nearby servant, which drew some derisive gazes from the surroundings. 

“King Regent Zanac,” Jircniv leaned forward in his throne, smiling playfully, but still drawing a professional line between them in public. “I’m very glad you found time to attend our wedding. Congratulations on winning the war.”

Several delegates from other nations murmured when they heard that. Zanac smiled faintly in his kneeling posture. 

“Thank you, your highness. It has been an ordeal, but peace for the kingdom prevailed. On this fortuitous day, I lay it humbly at your feet.”

“Are you dedicating your victory to us, King Regent?” Ainz asked for the crowd. 

“I am offering you fealty, your majesty,” Zanac lifted his head and smiled boldly. “The unified Re-Estize would like to become your vassal.”

Jircniv’s amethyst gaze flickered subtly to the delegates from the Argland Council States, the Slaine Theocracy, and others. He could see the fire lighting under their rears in real-time. 

He turned his eyes back down at his brother in spirit and relaxed to enjoy the show. Moments like this were where Ainz never failed to make an impression, and Jircniv had no intention of getting in the way. 

“Our vassal… I see.” The air of a king radiated off the overlord. “A whole nation is quite the wedding gift, King Regent Zanac.”

“I hope you don’t find it too burdensome, your majesty,” Zanac’s eyes shone with hope and the steel will he earned by surviving the civil war. 

“Of course not,” Ainz shook his head austerely, raising one skeletal hand, “but a good gift must be stewarded. You fought to secure peace for your kingdom and people. Then let the Sorcerous Kingdom provide you with peace eternal.”

Jircniv frowned slightly as many people in the audience paled, and a hint of baffled confusion appeared on Zanac’s face. The Golden Emperor cleared his throat and gave his husband a look.

“Hm?” Ainz glanced at his husband, and a light sparked in his crimson eyes. He turned to the crowd, “Ah. Please don’t misinterpret my words as a euphemism for death just because I’m undead. I mean peace: days of idleness and prosperity. Who would lay punishment on their own loyal vassals? Even I understand that humans don’t view death as a kindness.” 

He waved his hand as if the stares of trepidation were tedious, fixing his gaze back on Zanac. “Prepare a draft of the documents for your vassalization. I will look upon them favorably.” And, perhaps influenced by the earlier reactions, like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and my condolences for the rest of your family.”

Jircniv took a sip of his drink to hide his amused smile. The rest of the guests were rightly staring at his husband with incredulous gazes. He looked every inch like a monstrous undead who was doing his best to be reasonable and sympathetic to the tragedies of living beings, and came across as extremely clumsy as a result. But that was actually perfect, because it made him look like a creature who really, genuinely tried to relate to his living subjects, despite being an undead who barely understood the first thing about what it meant to be alive. 

Behind their baffled faces, Jircniv could anticipate their takeaways from this: since Ainz Ooal Gown was trying to be reasonable, communication should be possible; however, because of how different they were, the misunderstandings would be endless.

He appreciated the stage his husband brilliantly set up for him. It made him, as Ainz’s interpreter, into an essential point of contact for all of these people. 

Better not waste the opportunity. 

Zanac looked between the cold but regal undead and the brilliant Apostle, smiling encouragingly down at him, and bowed his head again. “Thank you, your majesty…” Spotting the King Consort making a subtle “go on” gesture with his champagne glass, he swallowed and threw out, “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you.” The lights in Ainz’s orbits glowed brighter, and his powerful voice obviously sounded pleased. 

To mention a wedding immediately after a funeral was absurd, but the Sorcerer King saw both mentions as niceties and was happy just to be reciprocated. His initial divergence from the joyous occasion was meant to be considerate, rather than disruptive. 

And Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix was fully capable of navigating these tangled webs between species. 

Zanac sighed in relief and excused his entourage for the next guests to have a turn. After a few moments of idle whispers between the newlyweds, they watched the representatives from the Theocracy approach the steps and bow modestly. 

“Congratulations on your wedding, your majesties,” Raymond Zarg Lauransan, the Cardinal of Earth, stood at the forefront of their procession. The middle-aged man peeked up at them both, and said in a perfectly priestly tone, “It was very broad-minded of you to marry in the first place, Sorcerer King, and admirably bold of you, Golden Emperor. We wish you well in consummating your status.”

Jircniv almost spat his drink. While desperately fighting to keep his facial expression under control, neither flushing nor scowling, the Emperor thought, Cardinal Raymond… he’s got more guts than I ever gave him credit for. 

Well, they had been practically coerced into handing over a valuable gift today, so maybe this was a small form of revenge. 

Jircniv couldn’t help glancing at Ainz’s reaction to the Cardinal’s words. He was disappointingly calm, nodding, “Thank you.”

The Cardinals sent forward one of their own, carrying a wide and flat white box, delivering it to a servant without any fanfare. Only the sheer silence and concentration of the procession indicated there was anything important inside the box. The servant brought the box to Ainz, who opened the lid to inspect its contents. 

Folded neatly inside was a white qipao, with a golden dragon embroidered on the front. Jircniv’s eyes lingered on the world item covetously, while Ainz simply nodded and closed the box, ordering the servant to set it with the other gifts. 

Raymond spoke up, “Of course, we wouldn’t ask anything in exchange for a gift. However, for the benefit of our national relations going forward, we would like to formally request the Sorcerous Kingdom to aid us in eliminating the Elf Kingdom.”

“Oh?” Ainz gazed down at the delegates from the Theocracy. He steepled his skeletal fingers. “Do you want the country to see military defeat? Do you want the fall of their king, or their complete annihilation?”

The Cardinals shared glances. “We can talk about the details another time, if you’re open to the idea, your majesty.”

Ainz leaned back in his throne and nodded. “Very well.”

With that, the procession from the Theocracy walked away. There were only a few more groups loosely lined up to deliver gifts. The shorter the line grew, the more Jircniv shifted focus to preparing himself emotionally for what awaited him after the reception. 

Tonight is my last chance, he thought, full of tension. Tonight, logic and custom are on my side. If I fail to seduce Ainz tonight…  

He would probably be celibate for the rest of his life if that happened. Jircniv felt his heart beating too fast and subtly took slow breaths to calm it down. Even with all of the groundwork he’d been laying meticulously for half a year, he still felt like the odds of failing tonight were unacceptably high. 

It’s the end of the line anyway. I don’t have to worry about pushing too hard. If his emotions get suppressed and my efforts don’t show any results… then that’s all I was capable of. 

Strangely, success seemed just as intimidating as failure on this occasion. Because success meant…

Well, there was no one in the world who could explain to Jircniv what the hell he was supposed to do then. Not even Shalltear, not even his Revelation skill had any advice about how to sexually pleasure an asexual undead skeleton. 

So, the Apostle’s strategy had pivoted. Now he could only pray to the other forty supreme beings for it to work. 

Chapter Text

After the gift-giving and the dancing and the socialization was all over, the wedding was over. Jircniv made his way to the dressing room where a few maids quickly gathered like flies to honey. 

They all had high expectations about what might transpire between their masters tonight, and they had a new gown to make him look irresistible in. 

Pandora’s Actor had already appraised the Downfall of Castle and Country by the time it arrived in the dressing room. They understood the impressive extent of its single-target brainwashing, as well as the requirements necessary to wear it. 

Fortunately, there was no requirement that it could only be equipped by a woman. The dress merely insisted it be worn only by a ruinous beauty… in other words, by a person who was good-looking enough to seduce kings and emperors and obtain everything from them. 

There’s no problem if I wear it, then, Jircniv thought confidently. 

The Downfall of Castle And Country was a delicate qipao made of fine white silk. It was embroidered along the front with a coiling, five-clawed golden dragon, stretching from the toes to the chest, as well as golden piping at the hems. It was figure-hugging with a high collar, a diagonal hem at the chest area, and long, exposing slits running up both sides of the skirt. 

It also had billowing detachable sleeves… Since those would hide away his bangles and armbands, Jircniv had the maids remove them. As part of the magic item, they disappeared like a mirage once the clasps hidden in the short sleeves were undone. 

The dress’s natural figure was tailored for a petite hourglass build, so it was going to need to cooperate with him somewhat. Fortunately, wearable magic items were able to adjust their size and shape to a certain extent to accommodate their users. 

It was interesting. As soon as the cloth touched his body, it shimmered and subtly changed its shape to suit its new user’s body type. Still, the overall design of the outfit didn’t change. This was an item meant for a bewitching beauty capable of tearing down nations with their good looks, after all. It was quite proud of its own design. 

The dress seemed to have a few strange enchantments built into it too. For instance, it seemed to think that the new beauty who inherited it would do well to show off his potency a little more. The knotted buttons fastened shut effortlessly, but the fabric seemed to shrink a little tighter after that, looking ever so subtly strained. When Jircniv breathed, the white silk stretched taut over his pectorals, magically turning most of the maids beet-red. 

It didn’t feel tight or uncomfortable at all. He could breathe easily, and his arms moved freely. Whatever minor visible strain the fabric was enduring was just a cheeky illusion. 

And it wasn’t only the chest area that played tricks. The strange, shimmering white fabric seemed to flow freely where it needed to and yet cling to any bodyline it wanted to emphasize. Its shimmering silk played with the surrounding lighting so that shadows landed exactly where they looked best. 

Jircniv traced the lines of his toned abdomen and hips in the mirror with his eyes, then glanced a little lower and was glad the item had the class and decency to allow the skirt to flow freely below the waist. It knew it should leave some things up to the imagination.

If it weren’t for the mystical seductiveness of this dress, it wasn’t actually any more revealing than what Jircniv usually wore. It seemed to have been carefully engineered to give the impression that it was decent, elegant, and austere… And that the person inside it was corrupting its purity with their uncontainable virility. 

Well, it didn’t fudge the truth too much. It didn’t have to, since it’s requirements already demanded that whoever wore it was beautiful enough to shake nations. 

Sadly, Jircniv knew that sex appeal was essentially useless on Ainz. At best, he would be positively evaluated akin to a living art piece. 

Jircniv examined his reflection in the mirror: gilded and golden, wearing a raiment that espoused purity and irresistible physical magnetism, his sleek and strong body and his enchanting face and eyes. 

He felt a seed of doubt worming around in his heart. 

The Golden Emperor was confident that he was the single most stunning human on the face of this world, capable of standing toe to toe with inhuman monsters like Shalltear and Albedo and not lose out in terms of physical appearance. He could smile and call out to any being with a similar sense of beauty to his and have them melt like putty in his hands. 

Was he about to be rejected anyway? Despite years of careful grooming and months of concentrated effort? 

He didn’t need to be an art piece to appease his husband’s collector’s eye tonight. He didn’t need to be an inviolable beauty. He needed to satisfy his basic needs!

Jircniv took a deep breath, quieting the small corner of his psyche that wanted to scream and cry at the unfairness of it all, building up and blossoming his confidence, shamelessness, and desire instead. 

Then he ignored the weak-kneed maids and made his way to the bedroom. 

***

After the reception, the maids stripped Ainz of his formal attire and sent him to his room in a black silk robe and slippers. Even someone as romantically dense as him couldn’t miss the obvious gleam in their eyes. He had also been wracking his empty skull for whatever “consummate” meant. It seemed like people were expecting something to happen tonight. 

He could loosely imagine what that something was. But he couldn’t understand why anyone was expecting that of an undead skeleton like him. 

Besides, Ainz and Jir had long since settled into a status quo. They’d been sharing the same room and bed for three months without anything uncomfortable happening. So, frankly, Ainz wasn’t expecting anything to happen tonight either. 

He laid in bed for a few minutes, reading, while the maids were surely stripping all the layers of gold and makeup that Jircniv didn’t insist on removing himself. He looked up when he heard the door opening. 

Ainz froze. How does a guy look that good in a dress?

Jircniv had donned the Downfall of Castle and Country for the first time. Ainz questioned the timing, but if that silk was as soft as it looked, it might be fine to sleep in it. 

Jircniv smiled and greeted him, just like every night, and gracefully made his way over to the vanity to free himself of his countless brilliant shackles. 

Ainz felt reassured that this would be another ordinary night and went back to reading his book. He looked up again when a weight settled on the bed next to him. 

“The Theocracy’s gift fits perfectly,” Jircniv joked from his lounging posture. 

Of course it fits. It’s a magic item—a world item even, Ainz thought to himself, looking up from his book to examine the dress up close. He blinked. Actually… isn’t it a little tight? 

The overlord’s crimson gaze lingered on the snow-white fabric, ever so slightly visibly straining to stay fastened over the human’s broad chest. 

I mean, he does have an impressive body for a non-combatant, Ainz mused, glancing at the sleek lines of Jir’s narrow waist and tight abs; the surprising bulk and definition of his arms that sleeves usually hid; the proud pectorals that appeared to strain the world item’s material with every breath the emperor took. 

Wait, no, that doesn’t make sense. It’s still a magic item. 

“Were you able to meet the requirements?”

If, by any chance, he hadn’t equipped the Downfall of Castle and Country, and was merely wearing it like a mundane item, that would explain why it seemed tight in some places… But Ainz would question then how Jir managed to fit himself into a dress made for a woman. 

“Yes, there was no problem.” 

Jir’s lackadaisical smile and short answer put Ainz back at square one. He had two options now: pretend he hadn’t been examining his husband’s figure, or, “Was there perhaps a limit to how much it could change its shape?”

“Does it look a little tight?” Jir set his hand on his chest and chuckled. “It feels comfortable. But it’s an item for ruinous beauties to charm people with, so it’s making little adjustments here and there to add more sex appeal.”

The words “sex appeal” unabashedly spoken, caused Ainz’s mouth to hang slightly open. “… Oh…”

“It doesn’t do anything for you, I take it.”

“N-no, I can’t say that it does…”

His husband examined him for a moment and then sighed lightly. “Well, that’s how it is.” He shifted out of his languid posture and sat straight up, turning to better face Ainz. “You know, Momonga, I love you.”

“Eh?”

The sudden sincere words caught the overlord off guard. Is this the first time he’s said that out loud?  

The truth was that Jir didn’t have to say anything. Ainz sort of just… knew. Through little tender moments here and there, from consistent actions and unspoken feelings, he knew. 

Oh, Ainz blinked, Have I never said it out loud either?

“Ah, I love you too, Jir.”

Those words leaving his mouth felt like they solidified something that had been rustling around in his heart for a long time now. Really, how could Ainz not love Jir? He was talented, beautiful, always on Ainz’s side, and the only person who really understood him. It wasn’t a heart-fluttering kind of love; it was a steady and trusting love no less reliable than the ground beneath his feet. 

Jircniv nodded. He smiled softly and positioned himself on Ainz’s lap, arms draped around his neck. “I know,” he said sweetly, depositing a soft kiss on the undead’s forehead. 

Ainz blinked up at him, fangs parted, while his thoughts felt a little more sluggish than usual. There was a hypnotic calmness in the emperor’s eyes that stunned him gently and kept embarrassment distant thought. 

With a tenderly sweet expression, Jir pulled one of his hands forward, gently pressing into Ainz’s ribcage, above where a human’s heart would be. He brought his face closer, so his mouth whispered right next to where an ear would have been. 

“And I know that this isn’t really your thing. But could you humor me a little?” He pulled his face back slowly and showed a sultry smile, soft fingertips drumming slowly. “I don’t know if you noticed, but you married the most desirable human in the world and left him to starve for six months. Haven’t I been patient?”

Ainz wondered what this persistent sluggish feeling was and guessed that it might have something to do with Jir’s Evoker class. Either his husband was trying to keep him calm so that he wouldn’t panic and refuse, or this was the only aspect of the human’s lustful haze that Ainz could share in. 

It was a little similar to mind control, but Ainz didn’t blame Jir for it. The ability was a passive one, all of his items that might boost its effects were set aside, and Ainz had a good amount of natural resistance to boot. If he was still being affected, that just meant his husband’s current feelings were that much stronger. 

He did regain a little more of his calm, though, now that he realized he was under the effects of a skill. 

“Jir…”

He had his calm back, but what should he say? His proud and noble husband was sitting on his lap, all but begging to be touched. Ainz was a twenty-two-year-old man once not that long ago. He had some sympathy. 

“… Alright. Though I don’t know how much I can do for you.”

Ainz felt Jircniv’s hands tighten around the neck of his robes and one of his ribs. The emperor's amethyst eyes went a little misty as he exhaled a shaky breath. 

“Good. I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry.” 

Surprisingly, Jircniv scooted off Ainz’s lap, making the curt demand, “Strip.”

Ainz slowly removed and folded his black silk robe while watching his husband get off the bed and walk to a drawer. He pulled out a jar of suspicious clear gel and set it on the bedside table. 

“… Is that what I think it is?” Ainz murmured. 

Jircniv raised a brow while undoing Downfall of Castle and Country’s knotted buttons, “What do you think it is?”

“A,” Ainz felt some embarrassment sneaking through his calm and the thin fog of stupor Jir had incidentally put him under, “a lubricant… isn’t it?”

Jircniv nodded as he removed the world item and folded it neatly next to Ainz’s robe. He shamelessly stripped his undergarments and tossed them aside much less neatly. “Right. I got it from Shalltear. Don’t worry, it’s unused.”

Ainz wasn’t worried about that but belatedly wondered if he should have been. 

Jircniv instructed him to coat one of his hands in the slippery gel. Before he could worry too much about what he was expected to do with that hand, the emperor encouraged him into position. Ainz found himself perched on his knees and one hand. His other hand was curled into a tube-shape and tucked down into his pelvis. 

It took far too long, but Ainz realized what this was. He was going to be the bottom. 

Well, that made sense, in retrospect? His husband had only ever slept with women before, so he had always been the top. But, kneeling in an absurd posture, with a hand full of lube positioned to substitute for certain anatomical features, Ainz felt somewhat… emasculated. 

Also, the few times he had considered sleeping with Jirkniv, it had been… this didn’t feel as gentle and rosy as Ainz’s virgin mind had imagined. This felt like he was about to be rutted. 

As Ainz felt the human’s soft hands settling on his hips, the words left his mouth, “Um, Jir? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this…”

To Jircniv’s credit, he stopped. Ainz heard a sigh and peeked over his shoulder to see the man making a tight, resigned smile. “Which part don’t you like?”

“Well… the position. Even a sex doll could do this much. And, I was a man, so…”

Jircniv grimaced and rubbed his face. From his perspective, he was seconds away from much needed relief, so Ainz admired him for keeping his head on straight. 

“I didn’t think you would have any opinions about that sort of thing with how little interest you had,” he admitted. “Alright, fine. Get up. Kneel on the floor.”

Ainz did as he was bidden. Jircniv instructed him to curl his hand just like before but hold it up through the underside of his jaw, inside his open mouth. 

“Is there any problem now?” the now very impatient man patiently asked. 

For whatever reason, Ainz wasn’t bothered nearly as much by this position. He shook his head and Jir gently laced his fingers behind Ainz’s skull. 

***

At first, Jir kept him in a very passive role. He was told not to move and especially not to bite. But gradually, the human started giving small instructions here and there. Ainz felt a little like he was going through a tutorial on how to use his hands. As he got the hang of it, he was allowed to take on a more active role, and they moved onto the bed.

He didn’t feel patronized at all. In fact, he was grateful to have the chance to learn things step by step. Ainz barely would have known how to romance someone in his original body, and he just wasn’t imaginative enough to have any idea how to use this one. 

He knew he wouldn’t get any pleasure himself out of this process, but he was still willing to help his husband. 

…But Ainz and Jircniv both had severely underestimated the Evoker Class. 

Its passive skill influenced the feelings of those who perceived Jir according to how he acted. Well, when the way he was acting was downright sexual without any pretense of civility, the feeling of craving for flesh became infectious. 

Ainz’s undead body was interpreting the cauldron of emotions as closely as it could, but it wasn’t an exact match. 

Fixation, a need to touch, a desire to be close, a smothering affection and blooming heat swelling his mind, those were relatively one-to-one. But lust itself didn’t have a parallel to the undead. What resulted was a fog of thoughtlessness instead, and something else liked to rear its head from that place of instinctual urges: the phenomenon most people referred to as an undead’s hatred of the living. Ainz was experiencing it for the first time. 

Though, now that he had felt it for himself, he thought hatred was a poor term to use. “Desire to extinguish” might have been more accurate. There was no actual hate that would inhibit his affection for Jir, but there was a basic urge to burrow his claws and teeth to the human’s organs and snuff out his life. 

That was obviously not a good thing. After about thirty minutes of impassioned tangling in the sheets, the human’s skin was covered in shallow little love bites. Jircniv was still alive only because he had instinctively used Midas to turn his skin into gold when he first felt Ainz’s fangs sinking in, but Ainz was strong enough that his teeth and claws could damage the soft metal relatively easily, so shallow wounds still appeared on his body. If a corner of Ainz’s mind wasn’t holding himself back, the human would be a gore stain on the sheets already. 

Ainz barely had the cognizance to worry about it. Not when he knew that Jircniv could end this situation whenever he wanted. It was his own lustful behavior that guided Evoker and opened Ainz up to that foggy state of mind. But in between fits of undead instinct, Ainz was an active participant in the human’s physical pleasure, and apparently that was worth some pain. 

“You need healing,” Ainz mumbled, gently stroking a long, bleeding scratch along Jircniv’s neck. 

The emperor pressed their foreheads together and took Ainz’s hand in his, licked his own blood off of it and guiding it lower. “What I need is for your hands to keep moving,” he insisted. 

Ainz looked into the Apostle’s amethyst eyes, burning with lust, drowning in it, and he felt them pulling him deeper into the throes of passion. Because of the affection he naturally had for Jircniv, Ainz wasn’t inclined to resist, and Evoker swept him away. 

A few times, things got so intense that Ainz’s emotions were forcibly calmed, but it only took a minute or so for Evoker to elevate his emotional state again. Ainz could have separated himself from the situation at any of those opportunities, but why would he? Truth be told, it was nice to feel consistently strong emotions for the first time since he was human. 

Ainz’s emotional regulation and Jircniv’s Evoker were sort of like counterbalances to each other, and because they had similar levels of influence, the decision about which to ultimately yield to came down to the individuals involved. 

Ainz was enjoying himself. More than he thought he possibly could. Any change in Jircniv’s demeanor resulted in a change in the evoked feelings. So when he moaned in pleasure or arched his back at the peak of climax, it made sure Ainz also felt damn near the closest emotion he was capable of to what his partner was experiencing. 

The feelings could get intense enough to almost be mistaken for physical sensation. It was to the point where, if someone asked him, Ainz would admit he no longer considered himself to be a virgin after tonight. 

After six months of abstinence, Jircniv wasn’t willing to stop any earlier than he had to. But worry peeked into Ainz’s heart more and more the longer they went and the more wounds piled up on the man’s body. 

“Jir,” he whispered just his husband’s name, laden with concern. 

The human gasped for air, his skin slick with sweat and smeared with blood. Perspiration made the many cuts and punctures sting. He was beginning to exhaust himself, which made him more conscious of the pain he was in. But still, he pressed up against Ainz’s body and stared hard at him, “Promise you won’t make me wait this long next time.”

Ainz freed one of his hands and gently ran his fingers through the emperor’s golden hair. “I promise.”

Jircniv smiled and winced, letting his forehead rest on Ainz’s shoulder, staring at the drops of blood all over the sheets. 

“I’m pretty sure I told you not to bite before we started,” he chuckled weakly. 

Ainz felt his soul wrack with guilt, and he pulled the man into a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop myself.”

Jir pulled his head up and smiled right in Ainz’s face, wincing with pain, haggard with exhaustion, gleaming with joy and pride, and still so, so beautiful. 

“Good,” he said, wiping fresh blood off of one of the overlord’s fangs with his thumb, “I want you to go crazy over me.”

Ainz brought his teeth to Jir’s forehead in his best attempt at a kiss. 

“I’m going to message Pestonia to come and heal you,” he said. “Hm. I should have the maids change the bed too. And we both need a bath.”

Ainz was embarrassed by just how awful a mess they had made. 

Should I order the maids to forget what they see here?

Ainz stood up to put his black silk robe back on, but he turned around again when he heard a sudden yelp and a thud. 

“Jir?!” 

Ainz spun around and didn’t see him on the bed. He figured he had fallen off, maybe dizzy from blood loss. But after dashing around the bed to check on him, Ainz froze, stunned.

Jir was lying on the ground, wide eyed, looking just as surprised as Ainz felt. Sprouting from his back and pinning him to the floor was a pair of large and majestic eagle-like wings… with feathers made of solid gold. 

“What…? Wings?” Ainz murmured. 

Jir blinked and flapped the sudden new appendages sluggishly, obviously burdened by their weight. With visible effort, he managed to sit himself up and lean against the bed. 

“Don’t ask me. I have no idea,” the Apostle rubbed his face tiredly.

Well, both of them suspected it had to do with some weird new class or skill. Ainz’s first guess was that Jircniv had picked up whatever class came after Golden Emperor, or maybe Apostle had reached its highest level and awarded the human with wings, then they had become the latest target for Midas’s curse. 

To shine some light on whatever was going on, Ainz decided, “… I’ll call Pandora’s Actor too.”

Chapter Text

While they waited for Pestonia to arrive, Ainz fetched an item from Jir’s vanity: the bangle that raised his physical strength. In his current injured and exhausted state, it didn’t look like he could even stand up with his new golden wings weighing him down.

Ainz brought the golden band over and knelt down to slide it onto Jir’s wrist. 

“… Are you okay?” Even though it was a famously stupid question to ask, Ainz wasn’t sure how else to express his concern. 

“Ah, no, not really.” Jir laughed dryly and tried to stand up. He was able to get up on two feet, but he had to cling to the overlord to keep from tipping over backwards again. “I really hope this is some skill I can turn off.”

Ainz helped Jir make himself presentable enough to be seen. They sat him up on the bed while they waited for the head maid to arrive. 

“Excuse me, wan.”

Pestonia entered as soon as she had permission to and had admirably little reaction to the chaotic situation inside the room. She ignored the messied sheets and the strange metallic wings and professionally healed the Apostle’s injuries. 

They also had her cast Remove Curse, assuming Midas was responsible for turning Jircniv’s wings to gold, but it didn’t have any effect. 

They thanked her for her help and dismissed her. 

The maids came in to change the sheets next. To spare his husband the effort when he was already exhausted, Ainz scooped him up in his arms to get him off the bed. 

What the…? He’s actually really heavy.

Ainz felt his bony arms almost struggling, which wasn’t something that happened often at his level. 

Jir glanced up at him and narrowed his eyes slightly, so Ainz quickly cleared his head of all implicating thoughts and pretended to absently watch the maids changing the sheets. 

Pandora’s Actor arrived as those maids were leaving, saluting energetically. “Good evening, father and second father! Hm?” The doppelgänger turned his hollow gaze to Jircniv’s limply hanging wings, audibly and visibly gasping. “Second father! Du bist ein Engel!”

Jircniv stared at Pandora’s Actor while Ainz inwardly cringed, barking at his thick-headed creation. “How many times have I told you now? Enough with the German!” 

The overlord set his husband down on the freshly made sheets, while the guardian of the treasury stood frozen in a very stiff salute.

Ainz sighed. “But that’s more or less why you’re here. We need another appraisal.”

“Understood!” Pandora’s Actor put his full body into shouting his reply, then shapeshifted briefly into one of Ainz’s former guild members who possessed a high-level appraisal skill. 

When he turned back, he said brightly, “Congratulations, second father, your level has increased again! You gained one level each in Evoker and Apostle.”

Jir smiled, and seemed both amused and mystified by that news. “So I actually managed to reach level 50… Thank you, Pandora’s Actor. Do you have any idea why I grew wings all of a sudden?”

“Of course! Your Apostle awarded you a new passive skill called Divine Messenger. Impactful name, isn’t it? Though maybe something like—”

“What specifically are its effects?” Ainz quickly cut off what he could tell was going to be a load of nonsense. 

“Well,” Pandora’s Actor rubbed his rounded chin curiously, “it should be flight-capable wings and a variation of telepathy, but…”

“Telepathy aside, there’s no way I can fly with wings made of gold,” Jircniv chuckled derisively. “Is it Midas’s doing? Remove Curse had no effect though.”

The doppelgänger saluted energetically, “Yes, second father! I have no idea!”

While Jircniv frowned, Ainz heaved a sigh, despite having no lungs. “… Rarely, there are cases of classes or skills having unexpected interactions with each other. It seems like Divine Messenger and Midas, or Golden Emperor, are one such case.”

The room fell quiet, since nobody had anything of value to immediately contribute to the situation. It wasn’t good. 

If I, at level 100, think Jir’s wings are heavy, they must be a huge burden to him at level 50. It isn’t like we can cut them off, either. 

Since Jir’s wings came from a skill and not a racial change, trying to cut them off would probably result in putting the Apostle through a lot of pain just for them to grow back. 

Killing and reviving him to reduce his levels…  

Ainz was against it. It would be a delaying tactic at best, and he simply didn’t want to see his most trusted person die—under any circumstances. 

After a few moments spent in uncomfortable silence, Ainz turned to Pandora’s Actor. “I want you to dig up some more items from the treasury that increase strength or decrease weight.”

“Understood!” Pandora’s Actor saluted. 

Mitigating the immediate problem with items was all Ainz could think of in the short term. In the long term, well, Jir would probably just have to adapt to his new wings. 

As Pandora’s Actor left the room to pursue his new task, Ainz glanced again at his apostle, anxious about how quiet he was being. 

Jir caught him staring and put on an inscrutable smile. “Don’t worry, Momonga. I’ll be fine.”

***

The Sorcerous Kingdom’s King Consort had his own office in the E-Rantel palace. Of course, there was space for Ainz to work there as well, if he wished to, just like there was room for Jir to work in Ainz’s palace office, but the distinction still existed. 

Shizu watched the Lord Apostle, lounging sideways while attending to his official duties, like nothing had changed from how it was a month ago. He hadn’t dared to return to E-Rantel until he had proper control over his body again, so even just doing paperwork in a different place seemed like a milestone. It had taken a solid month of effort, after all. Which was actually quite fast, all things considered. 

“Tell them to handle it like that,” the Apostle ordered, passing one document to a secretary Elder Lich and accepting a new one in exchange. 

The volume of work wasn’t too high. The vassals of Nazarick all agreed that they shouldn’t trouble a supreme being with trivial tasks, so most minor issues were decided by Albedo after her subordinates reviewed them and wrote up reports. Any larger decisions she needed help with next went to the Lord Apostle, as Ainz’s mouthpiece.

The volume of paperwork elevating beyond Albedo’s station had actually increased compared to before the Lord Apostle joined the administrative hierarchy, since the Guardian Overseer wasn’t as reserved about troubling him as she was about troubling Lord Ainz, but that was actually a good thing. It meant more of the large driving decisions for the Sorcerous Kingdom were being decided by someone who clearly understood the supreme one’s will. 

No documents actually ended up on the supreme one’s desk. The few he saw himself were brought over directly by the Lord Apostle and discussed in private. 

To be sure, the King Consort had to deal with a lot of paperwork, important decisions, and a huge amount of responsibility, but he was a practiced Emperor and a conduit of the supreme one’s will; he made the job look easy. 

“Is that everything?” the Lord Apostle asked.

“Yes, my Lord,” the Elder Lich secretaries nodded. 

“Good. What time is it now?”

“It’s noon, my Lord,” Brain Unglaus, a human who had joined Shizu as one of the Lord Apostle’s personal attendants, checked a timepiece and told him. 

Shizu moderately approved of him. He was loyal, at least. Not as cute as Climb, but strong enough to be able to trade his life for their master’s. 

“Then I should go meet Ainz for lunch,” the Lord Apostle smiled happily. 

He sat up and stood, golden wings flapping once gracefully before folding against his back. He made the motion look smooth and elegant, full of dignity and without any wasted energy. But Shizu’s sharp eyes weren’t easily misdirected. She saw the human’s powerful physique exerting a huge amount of effort beneath his shimmering silk dress to make that simple motion look so easy. 

Even if it was musculature built up for bearing heavy loads and recreational activities like riding and dancing, the Lord Apostle’s physique was on par with that of his strongest human attendant, yet he didn’t know the first thing about leveraging that strength in combat. He had absolutely no intention of picking up any kind of combat class, either, so Shizu’s job security was assured. She still had to look out for her lord and keep him safe. 

This place wasn’t Nazarick, so Shizu was always on guard. Supernatural senses aside, she had the best perception of any of her lord’s attendants. Brain wasn’t bad, but the adorable Climb was hopeless. 

When it came to sixth-sense type perception, the Lord Apostle was actually superior to any of them. His social acumen and the pulse he kept on recent events helped him predict when things might go wrong, both consciously and subconsciously. His Revelations didn’t let him know the future, but they could tell him if anyone was scheming against him presently. He even had a strange ability that the appraisal skill couldn’t identify, so they were tentatively considering it one of those Talents some new-worlders had. 

The Lord Apostle could tell when someone was magically observing him. They tested it thoroughly once it came to light and found it to be surprisingly keen and reliable. It wasn’t capable of any kind of counter-intelligence or obfuscation, but just knowing you were being watched without having to expend any counter-divination resources in advance was a huge benefit. 

His talent didn’t work against non-magical surveillance, but Shizu’s keen senses did.

Even if he looked fine now, and even if Shizu was still happy to joke around with him when things were calm, the Lord Apostle was basically in such an overburdened state that he couldn’t run away even if his life depended on it. Beneath the sound of chiming gold and rustling silk, her sharp ears heard the sound of soft but solid footsteps rooted in a mass heavier than her own metal body. She noted the microscopic pause between each footfall that implied all built-up momentum was being lost with each step. She heard his elevated breathing and heart rate, no matter how well he controlled them for someone without a stealth skill.

Her lord was vulnerable, so Shizu would absolutely catch even the smallest threat before it could come anywhere near him.

***

“Jir!” Ainz stood up from his seat to greet his husband when he entered the dining room. Etiquette didn’t state that a king had to rise for his consort, but it didn’t say he shouldn’t, either, and he wanted to. 

“Looks like I’m a little late today,” Jir chuckled. 

“Of course not,” Ainz shook his head. 

What right would he have to criticize the former emperor for tardiness even if it were true? The only one who actually needed to attend lunch between the two of them was Jircniv. And Ainz could only show up early like this because he had essentially no work to do; Jir and the guardians were handling it all. 

Ainz was making use of the time to work on bettering himself as the ruler of Nazarick, but he still felt guilty for shirking all the hard work. 

He walked around the table and offered up his hand. Jir smiled and took it, pulling their bodies closer so their chests pressed together and his lips could reach Ainz’s face. 

Ainz was past being flustered by it or wallowing in his own lack of sexuality. He was just happy for the frequent affirmation of his precious person’s feelings toward him. 

Between Jircniv’s two main methods of expressing his affection: physical touch and acts of service, Ainz found this one less burdensome. Jir was frankly too competent, and Ainz felt the scales of debt tipping more and more in his husband’s favor. 

I want to do something for him…

As Jir pulled back from the kiss, he moved to take a seat in the chair a maid pulled out for him. Ainz didn’t take his hand back, and he felt the winged man distribute a fair portion of his considerable weight to it as he gracefully took his seat; a casual show of the trust that Ainz was always happy to receive. 

Ainz pushed Jir’s chair in himself and moved back around the table where a maid helped seat him. 

The chefs came almost immediately out to deliver Jir’s lunch. Part of the chefs’ jobs was to balance the nutritional needs of Nazarick’s denizens, so they planned most of the menus without external input. Though specific meals could be requested in advance.

They set the table with several generously portioned plates that filled the air with a mixture of harmonizing pleasant aromas. Ainz wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear that they paid extra attention to the scent of the food in an attempt to cater to their undead master, even a little bit. 

Jir took up his utensils, both of which were already made of gold, and politely started eating. Maintaining his stronger physique and two new limbs required a lot more calories than an average human, hence the generous portions, despite how careful he always was about maintaining his figure. 

Ainz thought it was a good thing. The chefs wanted nothing more than to be of use to the supreme one, and cooking for their Lord Apostle was the closest they could come to cooking for Ainz. They were thrilled to prepare more food. Also Nazarick’s culinary creations were supposedly delicious without parallel, and Jir seemed happy to be able to enjoy more of it. 

While the Apostle ate, Ainz placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on top of his laced fingers. 

“… I was thinking we should go somewhere together,” he stated. 

Jir swallowed and wiped his lips with a napkin. “For our honeymoon, you mean?”

Ainz nodded, “Exactly. You’re able to move around comfortably now, after all.”

“Well, more or less. Where would you like to go?”

Ainz had thought about it quite a lot, but he couldn’t narrow it down to just one option, so he presented three.

“It’s not just my decision, so what do you think of these? First, there’s the option to enjoy the entertainment facilities on the ninth floor.” That was a very safe option, but they could do it anytime, and the privacy might be lacking. “Second, we could go to the Empire.” That option would give Jir a chance to visit home, though it risked him getting caught up in work. “Third, the Great Lake to the North is a scenic and quiet location.” This would allow them to focus on each other more, but there would be less readily available entertainment.

Jir took another bite of his meal and drank some wine while he considered the options. Dabbing his lips with a napkin, his amethyst eyes smiled whimsically at Ainz. 

“All three.”

The overlord blinked. “All… three?” 

He held his chin in thought. Is that allowed? Would it still be considered one honeymoon? I mean, some people do go traveling around for their honeymoon, I guess?

They wouldn’t have as much time to spend at any one location, since they couldn’t spend too much time away from the Sorcerous Kingdom, but nobody said they couldn’t go to multiple destinations for their post-wedding get-away, right?

Slowly, Ainz nodded. “Alright, if that’s what you want. I’ll have Demiurge arrange our itinerary.”

Jir smiled the same wry smile he would wear whenever Ainz would gift him a new piece of jewelry. It was a smile that said he knew he was being pampered and he liked it.

The undead imagined he felt his breath catch in his throat, despite not needing to breathe. He was tongue-tied for the rest of the meal, simply gazing at his husband while he ate in serene silence. 

Chapter Text

Etoile was one of the forty-one homunculus maids of Nazarick. She had the immense honor of being one of the few in charge of dressing the Lord Apostle. The prestige of holding that position may have been below that of dressing Lord Ainz himself, but it was debatable which one was coveted more. 

Of course, Lord Ainz had a divine visage that couldn’t be compared to any mortal’s… But the Lord Apostle had captivated even the supreme one, so the maids certainly couldn’t be blamed for swooning over him. 

There was a very unholy practice which had shamefully begun in Nazarick, with Etoile and her fellows at the helm. 

The Lord Apostle had grown golden wings. Despite being made of solid gold, they were anatomically identical to regular wings, so they occasionally shed a feather. If this happened elsewhere in Nazarick or outside, those feathers were brought to the treasury for storage, or to be put into the conversion machine that turned raw resources into Yggdrasil gold coins. The Lord Apostle’s gold had a very favorable conversion rate, much more efficient than piling heaps and heaps of cultivated grain.

But if a feather was shed during his grooming and dressing or undressing, Etoile and her fellow maids would snatch and hide it, and it would enter the closest thing Nazarick had ever had to a black market. Who wouldn’t want one of the Lord Apostle’s feathers as a good luck charm or a medium of worship? 

One of their best customers was Shalltear, who had traded for dozens of golden feathers for a new toy she was making to play with her Vampire Brides. She called it her feather duster. Being anatomically accurate, the golden filaments were so thin that they felt flexible and soft, even though they were made of metal… And that was as far as Etoile dared to think about it.

It was a vile and disrespectful practice. Etoile often felt guilty for enabling it. But just as many if not more people treated the feathers with reverence. She somewhat wished the Lord Apostle would give tacit approval to the distribution of his feathers. That way, they could be used openly as accessories and charms and such. 

Just as she was thinking it and helping to gently comb his glorious wings, a feather loosened into her hand. Gazing up at the Lord Apostle’s broad back, the ceiling lights silhouetting his white and gold form like a halo, her lips moved unconsciously. 

“Lord Apostle, may I keep this?”

“Hm?” He looked over his shoulder at her. Etoile felt her entire body melting when she met his amethyst eyes. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“I… could I wear it in my hair?”

Etoile felt her sisters staring at her slack-jawed, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the Lord Apostle. More pressing than the panicked looks from her sisters, she felt the Lord Apostle’s ethereal sight piercing through her being. 

“Hm… I’ll let you wear just one on your person.” Etoile brightened like the sun was swelling in her bosom. “But I’m not playing favorites. I’m extending the privilege to everyone, inside and outside of Nazarick. And obviously, I refuse to be plucked, so it’s first come first served.”

Etoile and her sisters all beamed and bowed their heads in worship to the Lord Apostle’s benevolence. 

And thus, trading the Lord Apostle’s golden feathers was legalized. 

***

Out on the streets of E-Rantel, Albert was a recent immigrant to the Sorcerous Kingdom. He risked moving to a crazy nation like this for only two reasons. First, his family were vassals to one of the rebellious noble houses of Re-Estize, and he didn’t want to get executed when the civil war turned on its head. Second, he heard a decent craftsman could make good money in the underpopulated city. He was a leather worker by trade, and if he had to flee his home country, he might as well go somewhere where his family would prosper. 

If this place devolved into war too, he and his family would just up and leave again. 

Moving in and setting up their new shop took time and effort, but finally they were doing well for themselves. As well as they could do in a weird place where dwarves, orcs, and undead roamed the same streets as humans without killing each other.

Albert’s daughter, Lana, was too afraid to leave the shop on her own despite the floor-scraping crime rates, so Albert used errands as an excuse to escort her about once a week. After a while, they found a new addition to the center of the market square: a larger-than-life statue of the King Consort. 

Statues of the Sorcerer King were everywhere, but this was the first statue either Albert or his daughter had seen depicting the Golden Emperor. They hadn’t managed to attend any of his public appearances either, due to bad timing, so this was their first time seeing any depiction of him. 

“What a vainglorious piece of crap,” Albert muttered, then clamped a hand over his mouth and looked around for any patrolling Death Knights. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw none, and turned back up to glower distastefully at the statue. 

It was made of solid gold, depicting a winged man with the body of a demigod and the face and bearing of an angel. 

Lana whistled as she blushed up at the sight. “I get that it’s exaggerated, since all nobles are proud like that, but at least we get to ogle this masterpiece.”

A passersby overheard them and joined the conversation. “Yeah, I’ve seen the Golden Emperor three times, and this thing just isn’t accurate.”

“Right?” Albert smirked, his pride as an ordinary working man feeling somewhat vindicated.

The stranger nodded, “The real deal isn’t that humble. He wouldn’t be caught dead without a mile’s worth of jewelry.”

“… Wha? Humble?” Albert pointed at the statue, “they sculpted him like the Chief Warrior entered a beauty contest. Even without accessories, this is one of the most puffed-up things I’ve seen.”

The bystander furrowed his brow. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but that’s really what he looks like.”

“You’re lying…”

“For real?”

Albert stared in dismay as his daughter sent a different kind of gaze up at the statue, like she was looking at her Prince Charming. 

Lana snapped herself out of it and asked, “Except for the wings, right?”

The stranger shook his head and scratched his scalp. “Nope, even those. Rumor has it that the Sorcerer King turned his husband into an Angel to preserve his beauty forever. Personally, though? I think they’re just an elaborate accessory. They’re made of gold, after all.”

With that, the stranger walked away to return to his business, leaving Albert and Lana alone with the statue.

***

Albedo threw herself onto her bed after a long day of difficult work, even for a guardian. Without Ainz’s affection dangling like bait in front of her eyes, it was harder to apply herself with reckless mania the way she had in the past. But of course, she was still loyal and dedicated to the Great Tomb of Nazarick. And the Lord Apostle’s assistance took the hardest decisions off her shoulders. 

Albedo clutched a pair of body pillows in her arms: one embroidered with the likeness of Ainz Ooal Gown, the other with Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix. The more… scantily clad paraphernalia had been destroyed after she received the revelation that she was meant to be a daughter-figure to the supreme one, but she still liked the feeling of embracing her loved ones like this. 

Albedo was in the same strange position as much of Nazarick, having three father figures and no mother figures. There was the father that designed her, Tabula Smaragdina, the father who birthed her, Ainz Ooal Gown, and the father who taught her, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix. She cared very little for the first one. What did he add, anyway? At least for the few denizens of Nazarick designed by a rare female member of the forty-one, their first parent could serve as a motherly figure, but a third father who did nothing but dream them up and cast them aside wasn’t worth a single gold coin in her mind. 

The Lord Apostle could fill that role for them anyway, so who needed a mother? If Albedo needed advice on her hair, clothes, makeup, or jewelry, or on how to get a man, or on manipulating the masses with her good looks, or any other number of feminine things, she could just ask him! 

It was a little sad that he had gotten used to his wings in just a month. She had enjoyed the quality time she and her stepfather spent together during that process. 

There was something very joyous about the fact that he had wings now, from Albedo’s perspective. Between Lord Ainz’s alabaster and raven black aesthetic, and Lord El Nix’s picturesque winged figure, Albedo could easily imagine herself as their daughter. It was an almost frightening coincidence…

But Albedo didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed in Lord Ainz; that in his boundless wisdom, he knew he would fall in love with the Lord Apostle someday and named her his most beloved daughter because she reminded him of the lover he would one day have. 

Wasn’t it a heart-fluttering idea? The Guardian Overseer could only dream of the day she would fall in love like that…

But now that Lord Ainz had found his destined lover, Albedo wondered if she should be expecting more siblings. She had kept all the baby clothes she knitted, just in case. Of course, the Lord Apostle was biologically a human male and couldn’t conceive a child no matter how motherly he might be. But the supreme one was a deity who had birthed thousands of living, breathing  (and undead un-breathing) children from the imaginations of his fellow guild mates. She was ready for any new little sister, brother, or other anytime!

***

A merchant from the Theocracy, Talbas, swallowed the pit of anxiety growing in his throat. Being in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s throne room was sensory overload, even for an experienced merchant like him. The decor and architecture were beyond anything he had ever laid witness to. The Sorcerer King loomed like the god of death himself, and his King Consort beside him shone like the radiant sun in the sky. 

Talbas was using up all of his courage just to stay conscious, but he couldn’t afford to fail here. 

He lifted his head. “Your majesty, I would like permission for my company to do business in your kingdom, since our nations are now allies.”

“Your company? Hm… A simple matter,” the undead nodded his white skull and spoke in an imposing baritone. “My Consort is more than enough to handle this.”

Talbas watched in shock as the Sorcerer King simply… left. Left his King Consort alone to deal with a matter of international trade. Perhaps only supernatural or world-altering issues like the appearance of Jaldabaoth merited the Sorcerer King’s direct intervention?

The merchant promptly lowered his head in a bow.

“So, what sort of business do you run?”

Talbas lifted his head and was momentarily breathless. A man too beautiful to be human was staring into his soul. His honey-sweet voice echoed in his ears. 

Get it together, Talbas! You’re not about to be seduced by a man in a dress!

He cleared his throat. “We deal in textiles, your highness.”

“Just textiles?”

The merchant blinked. “I beg your pardon? Yes, just textiles, your highness.”

“Really? I could have sworn your merchantry ran an information gathering business on the side.”

How does he know that?!

Talbas felt sweat pooling at his hairline, but he stubbornly forced an innocently offended look on his face. “Your majesty, I assure you, I have never—”

All the King Consort did was narrow his eyes and peer sharply at Talbas from behind his long, beautiful lashes, but the merchant felt fear and guilt. His heart seized and his tongue tied. The strength of his limbs gave out, and he lowered himself prostrate. 

Breathlessly, he wheezed, “Y…you’re correct, your majesty. My sincerest… apologies.”

The oppressive pressure let up easily, and Talbas glanced up to see the golden man smiling at him again. “Was that so hard? You and your merchantry can set up an outpost here, but the Sorcerous Kingdom expects to be a beneficiary of your services. I assume the Theocracy won’t mind?”

“O-of course not.”

He would have to make sure of it. The Theocracy had to do everything in its power to maintain a good relationship with these two near-deities.

“Good.” The Golden Emperor propped one elbow on the arm of his throne and rested his chin on his palm. A series of golden accessories clinked into place, pulled down by gravity. “Then I wish you fortune in your business, merchant Talbas. You are dismissed.”

Chapter Text

“Lord Ainz, Lord Apostle, welcome!” Demiurge bowed deeply along with all the attendants gathered as greeters from the Baharuth Empire. 

The overlord of the Sorcerous Kingdom disembarked from his glittering black carriage, nodding regally at his trusted aide. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Demiurge.”

“It’s our pleasure!” The frog-headed devil exclaimed like it was only natural. Indeed, to him it was. 

The Sorcerer King held out a hand for the remaining occupant of the carriage. A pearlescent hand, covered in glittering rings and jingling bracelets, elegantly rested on the ivory bones. The former leader of the Empire disembarked with slow, graceful steps. A carriage with lesser suspension would have lurched to the side, but not a carriage belonging to Ainz Ooal Gown. His wings fluttered for balance before settling behind him as his golden sandals planted firmly on solid ground. He smiled warmly at the welcoming party. 

Demiurge, who had heard from Albedo all about the Lord Apostle’s adjustment process, could hear in his mind the human’s legs screaming at the injustice of stairs, but seemingly nothing could break his external tranquility. 

As always, the Devil’s expectations were exceeded. 

“Indeed, I couldn’t hope for a better custodian for my Empire, I’m sure?”

The Golden Emperor’s playful smile made Demiurge’s sulfurous blood boil. He placed a hand over his wicked heart and proclaimed, “Of course, Lord Apostle!”

The Apostle smiled at him again and glanced behind Demiurge. Among the greeters gathered were several of his former aides, many of whom hadn’t seen their Emperor for seven months now. Their poker faces couldn’t begin to match those of the leading figures of Nazarick: their eyes were wide; eyebrows elevated; lips parted; postures stiffened or slackened. Several were blushing or pale, depending on which of the Kings their eyes fixed on. 

Ainz had a gravitas about him that made it difficult to breathe, even for humans who had spent months in an Archdevil’s presence. They could surely feel the difference between them and the supreme one: while they crawled on the ground like worms, he soared through the heavens. Foolish mortals usually failed to grasp his wisdom and magnanimity and fixated only on the fear of death he evoked, however. 

In that respect, the Lord Apostle might have been more palatable to them, but for all Demiurge’s respect and admiration for the man, he had seen the Empire in detail after taking it over, and he was aware of the civil war plot in Re-Estize. Just like Lord Ainz, the Lord Apostle was mercy and death in equal portions, merely the presentation had changed. 

Truly, a pair of commanding beings!

The thoughts of the aides were surely less sophisticated. From the corner of one of his bulbous amphibian eyes, Demiurge caught a younger page tracing the lines of the Lord Apostle’s marble-white thighs, spotlighted by the slits in his skirt. Tracing the sculpted muscles with his eyes, he swallowed dryly. 

“Nimble, Baziwood, I see you back there.” The Lord Apostle called.

Of the two Imperial Knights, Nimble stood at attention, trying his best not to stare, while Baziwood openly ogled and whistled at his boss. 

“Were you that eager for a rematch, your majesty?” he bellowed a laugh shamelessly. “I’d say you’ve become quite manly, but what’s with the dress?”

The Golden Emperor’s bracelets chimed as he placed one hand on his hip, the other pressed to his chest at the fingertips. “Aside from how well I wear it? It’s a defensive magic item.”

Demiurge’s wide lips smiled slightly. Well, until they found someone worth brainwashing, the main value of Downfall of Castle and Country was its ability to negate the influence of other world items, so it wasn’t exactly a lie. 

He cleared his throat. “If you’d like to come inside, my lords, I have your itinerary prepared.”

“Yes,” Ainz’s baritone voice cut through the frivolous mood, “let’s do that.”

***

The first stretch of their honeymoon would happen in the Empire. This was so that if they got wrapped up in any work they could get it out of the way early. 

“I’ve arranged an afternoon slot for you in the Grand Arena, Lord Ainz,” Demiurge said proudly.

A servant sweated nervously while setting a cup of tea in front of each of them. 

Cinnamon? Ainz smelled the unmistakable spice wafting fragrantly in the air. Hm. If being away from Nazarick is helping Demiurge to discover new things he likes, then good. 

Jir was the only one to actually pick up and sample the tea, though. 

“The Grand Arena?” Ainz pulled his focus back to the conversation. “Who will my opponent be?”

“We’ve found several!” Demiurge seemed very proud of that. “Seven individuals, each willing to fight you to the death or bow down as sacrifices, as you please! Here is a summary of their abilities and what they requested as payment for their lives. Please have your pick, my Lord!”

Demiurge waved and had a stack of papers delivered to the overlord, who took them blankly. 

Eh? What?

“You said they’ve agreed to die with or without a fight? They don’t mind if I kill them?”

Demiurge smiled broadly as he bobbed his frog head. “I wish I could take all the credit, but it was the Lord Apostle’s idea. To gather desperate individuals and fulfill their wishes in exchange for your entertainment.”

He did what? Ainz glanced down at Jir, calmly enjoying his tea. Jir was a man of the people—mostly he favored humans, but he was far more merciful and far less bigoted than most of Nazarick’s elite, which usually served as a breath of fresh air for Ainz. Did he really propose a glorified execution like this?

Jir smiled and lowered his teacup into his lap. “Not for entertainment, Demiurge. For relaxation and stress-relief.” He turned his amethyst gaze up at Ainz, smiling knowingly. “Killing isn’t far off from a basic need for you, right?”

Ainz pulled his chin back slightly. Jir looked utterly confident that he was correct… and, well, he was. 

But how does he know that? Did I mention it at some point? 

Ainz could’ve sworn that was one of the little details he’d been keeping mum about, worried it would make his kind husband uncomfortable around him. He didn’t need to kill as badly as a human needed to breathe or drink, after all; it was just a very effective form of tlc. He had prepared himself to go without it until an opportunity came up.

“Well… They’re my people though,” Ainz mentioned. “I don’t want to dishonor the name Ainz Ooal Gown by slaughtering my own citizens.”

Jir sipped his tea again and shrugged. “Take a look at the documents before you call it immoral.”

Ainz did just that. “Hm…” He flipped through page after page. Each of these candidates really was desperate in one way or another. 

There was a retired mercenary who’d contracted an incurable illness and wanted enough money for his family to live after his passing. 

There was a paralyzed old woman who wanted her estranged grandson to be granted a scholarship at the imperial academy. 

There was an old man near the end of his life who wished to revive his granddaughter who died in an accident. 

And more and more. They were all like that: people who already didn’t value their lives and could probably never have their wish fulfilled without this opportunity. Who was Ainz to say it was wrong to buy them when they were begging to be sold?

“Did you deliberately pick the tear-jerkers?”

A smile played at Jir’s lips. “Well, do you like it?”

Ainz nodded, “I do.” 

There were few circumstances when one was able to take lives and look like the good guy for doing it, and this was one that would be able to function consistently even in times of peace and prosperity. 

“Do we have measures in place to deal with retaliation from their families?” Ainz poignantly asked. “Even if the person involved consented, I don’t believe no one would complain after the fact.”

“Of course some people will complain,” Jir shrugged. “Especially the ones who got something like money in exchange and squandered it. That’s the reason for picking the poetic sacrifices out of all the candidates. Because even if someone throws up a fuss, if the public vilifies them as an ingrate for doing it, they’ll only drag themselves through the mud. The only way for the families to save face is to mourn gratefully. And if things ever start to roll in the wrong direction, we’ll nudge them back into place with a little well-timed propaganda.” 

The Golden Emperor sipped his tea and glared at an imaginary future, causing the temperature in the room to drop several degrees, at least in everyone’s minds. “You have to remind people that happiness is impossible in the first place unless they’re willing to turn a blind eye to certain unpleasantries. Those who can do that prosper, and those who can’t need to be stomped out for the sake of everyone else. Even the most virtuous individual should know how to pick their battles.”

Ainz nodded, agreeing with the basic principle. As cold and cynical as Jir’s words sounded, they were true. Life was about compromises, picking the best achievable result at each opportunity. With everyone doing their best to live stable and happy lives, anyone who shook the boat was a nuisance. They would either be swallowed by their peers or their discontent would spread like a disease. It was only worth humoring when the issue at hand was truly important. 

The decision of when to quash discontent and when to address it was where the quality of a leader lied. The heights of misery and prosperity oscillated with that choice. A tyrant crushed the outcries of the destitute and the oppressed, but even a kind ruler couldn’t always withhold his fist. Malicious and entitled people could rot through any society, and muffle the pleas of those who really needed help. 

Ainz didn’t particularly have any pity for the families of these sacrifices in the first place, but he followed his husband’s lead and stopped pretending he did.

He turned to Demiurge, “So what else is on our agenda?”

***

Jircniv peered out the carriage window, observing the streets of the Empire with his own eyes for the first time in over half a year. It appeared no worse off than he’d left it. It was obvious that the seventh floor guardian wanted to please him. Fortunately he hadn’t unintentionally twisted anything. It was hard to rely on a devil’s common sense, but so far there were no major problems. 

‘Ah, Lord Ainz, please let my time to serve you come faster.’ 

Baziwood and Nimble had the privilege of escorting their Emperor for the first time in a long while, which unfortunately meant that they were having to share a carriage with Ainz Ooal Gown. Of course the Emperor was riding together with his husband. 

They both looked incredibly stiff and uncomfortable. The Golden Emperor smiled wryly at them. 

‘Please let his majesty be merciful during my trial…’

“You don’t have to be so stiff,” he said, shrugging irresponsibly. Glancing up at Ainz, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baziwood this well-behaved before.”

“Hoh?” Ainz intoned with minor interest. 

“Y-your majesty,” Baziwood murmured helplessly. 

‘Ah, god, please let me see the King Consort in person just once!’

“There’s no need to put on airs around me,” Ainz said, raising a hand permissively. “I enjoy a lively atmosphere as much as the next person.”

Nimble clamped a hand over his mouth and turned his gaze out the window. 

Well, he did personally witness the Katze Plains massacre, Jircniv thought sympathetically. He kept looking at the Fierce Gale until he noticed, then Jircniv raised a brow at him and nodded toward Ainz. Try saying it to his face, he challenged his knight. 

Nimble lowered his hand to his lap and swallowed hard. “Y-your majesty, Lord Gown?”

‘Lord Gown, thank you for always watching over Enri, Nemu, and grandmother.’

Oh, a prayer from the Bareare boy? Jircniv paid an instant of attention to that one before casting it aside like the rest.

The intrusive thoughts barging into his head every few seconds were a result of Divine Messenger and its unique form of telepathy. 

The Apostle had lied to everybody besides Ainz about how specifically his telepathy worked. They knew he could hear prayers directed at himself or Ainz, or send his own prayers to them instead, but he told them that it only activated when their need was great. 

In reality, he heard everything involuntarily. 

It was annoying, but it was a valuable source of information. Perhaps in most cases, Ainz would be unhappy about deceiving the denizens of Nazarick or his citizens, but in this case, he fully endorsed it. If people knew Jircniv could hear every casual prayer, they would withhold incriminating information or abuse the privilege of what was effectively a permanent Message spell. 

And Jircniv didn’t want to be resented for ignoring 99% of all the prayers he heard. But 99% of them were pointless. 

Hearing prayers didn’t use any mana, but sending his own prayers did. And he had to take up a reverent posture to do it. Since the Message spell was more convenient anyway, he was basically saving his own telepathy for emergencies. 

“Hm? What is it? You may speak freely,” Ainz answered Nimble’s timid request, and Jircniv turned his crowded mind back to his surroundings. 

“W-well, that is… It’s strange to hear that from you. Honestly, I’m not sure I believe it.”

“Oh?” Ainz lifted a hand to his chin. “Why is that?”

The imperial knight clenched his armored fists tightly in his lap. He fixed a pale glare up at the undead king. “Would someone who likes a lively atmosphere rejoice after slaughtering 70,000 people? I can’t help but wonder that.”

“…Hm.” The overlord sank into contemplation, instead of retaliating in anger, which dismantled a portion of the tension in the carriage. “What’s so strange about it?”

“What?” Nimble and Baziwood both looked aghast and uncomprehending. 

Ainz lifted his arms in a calm shrug. “I have been informed repeatedly after that event that most living species find mass-killings distasteful regardless of context, so I apologize if my behavior at that time was uncomfortable for you. However, I don’t see how the two matters are remotely related. Those people were my enemies on the battlefield, and the people here are my husband and vassals, riding together in the same carriage. Isn’t it natural to treat the two groups differently?”

Nimble lowered his head and gritted his teeth, “Does it sound stupid to you?”

“Not at all,” Ainz shook his head. “You and I are different kinds of beings and may think about things differently. I think it’s valuable to hear about things from your perspective.”

Nimble seemed to have trouble formulating his words, though, so Baziwood rubbed the back of his head and gave it a shot. “I guess it’s just hard to believe that someone who can be that cruel could be, uh, friendly? I heard you told people to applaud or something? That’s kind of sick if you ask me.”

Ainz nodded slowly. Jir smiled and propped his cheek on his hand, watching the supreme one earnestly trying to understand the perspective of lowly knights. How many gods would even bother?

“I see. To be clear, I was celebrating the most successful execution of that spell in history. It was a truly great achievement, from the perspective of a magic caster.”

“But it was an achievement built on tens of thousands of graves!” Nimble exclaimed. “It should be mourned, not celebrated!” He took a few deep breaths and his eyes widened. “My apologies, your majesty.” 

“No, no. It just means it’s that important of a distinction to you. Hm, how can I put this… You’re knights, so you must train regularly, right? Have you ever exceeded your personal best record when running and felt proud, for instance?”

“Of course,” Nimble frowned. Baziwood nodded like it was obvious. 

“While running, how many ants did you step on? How many meals did you eat to build up your muscles?” Ainz held up a hand to stop the obvious rebuttal that was coming. “Those aren’t the same as human lives, is that what you want to say? However, to me, they are the same. Until a distinction is made and a living being becomes my enemy, my ally, my friend, my subject, or anything else that can set it apart, they all might as well be insects. I have no positive or negative feelings for them whatsoever. I’m simply not capable of caring about someone I know nothing about. That’s why I have to put strangers into groups by allegiance or take the time to get to know each individual.”

Both knights were forced into introspection by his words. For Baziwood, it was his first time interacting with an undead peacefully like this, and for Nimble, what little he thought he understood about the Sorcerer King was beginning to erode. 

The Fierce Gale frowned and asked, “So do you love his majesty, Lord Gown?”

“I do,” he answered firmly, surprising the two sittings across the carriage. Ainz tilted his head as the knights went slack-jawed, “Did you think I would say no? Well, it would be understandable to assume we had a loveless political marriage.”

Jircniv placed his elbows on his lap and leaned forward. “I love him too, for the record.”

“WHAT?!” Both knights shouted in utter shock. 

Jircniv knew Ainz would be grumbling to himself about the imbalance in their reactions, and the thought made him chuckle. 

“Why?” he teased. “Isn’t it a good thing that my husband and I love each other?”

The two attendants sat there, completely mute. Of course that wasn’t the problem…

Jircniv snorted and glanced out the window, seeing the Grand Arena rising to overtake the view. “Looks like we’ll have to continue this chat another time.”

Chapter Text

Jircniv disembarked the carriage and parted ways with Ainz. While the Sorcerer King enjoyed his killing and the social performance that came with it, the Golden Emperor would be watching from the box seats. 

Nimble and Baziwood were accompanying him. They still looked shocked and confused by the conversation that had been interrupted a moment ago. Part of Jircniv wanted to enlighten them or tease them more, but he decided to wait until they had proper privacy again. 

The Apostle paused for a moment at the bottom of a long stairway, curving up the outer ring of the grand arena all the way up to the box section. He absently adjusted the jewelry hanging from his wrists, took a deep breath, and resisted grimacing. 

It was a grueling fifteen story climb, but he made it to the top. He was flushed and breathing heavily by then, but his regal dignity was mostly intact. 

His legs felt like jelly though.

They reached the imperial box seats and the apostle was glad to sit down. He was equally relieved to see nothing had started down below yet. 

Jircniv made himself comfortable and rested his chin in his hand, staring down at the empty arena with a feeling of anticipation. 

An annoying prayer interrupted his good mood. 

‘May the Lord Apostle shed more feathers.’

The Apostle’s brow twitched slightly. Is that a prayer or a curse, Shalltear?

He sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the two tense knights, deciding it would be fine to play with them a little now. 

“Out with it already,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you’re full of questions. It’s just us here anyway.”

Baziwood forced a grin on his face and tested the waters. “Are those wings real or are they a magic item?”

“They’re real.” The Apostle gave a gentle flap to demonstrate his point. Then he peeked down at the golden shine on his left ring finger and smiled. “Everything I’m wearing is a magic item, though.”

“Seriously?! That’s the Sorcerer King for you, I guess.” Baziwood scratched his head. “Can you fly?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Are you human?”

Jircniv laughed. “Yes, I’m still human. My wings are because of a skill, not a racial change.”

Both Nimble and Baziwood were visibly relieved to hear that.

Nimble, who still wore a tight expression from earlier in the carriage, tried to open up a little and crack a small smile. “Is it true that you learned a skill that can turn anything into gold?”

There was no way they hadn’t heard rumors about Midas. It had become famous pretty much the moment the curse first triggered in public. 

The emperor returned his knight a half-smile, “I did, but that part of it isn’t something I have control over. It’s technically a curse.”

Nimble nodded. He tucked his chin and was clearly steeling himself, but Baziwood actually asked the question first.

“Hey, your majesty, were you serious before, in the carriage?”

“When I said I love him?”

“Yeah, that.”

Jircniv took in his knights’ curious and distressed faces. He found himself pitying them. Knowledge was a heavy burden to bear, but being ignorant about the loving nature of Ainz Ooal Gown, thinking of him only as a natural disaster that could trigger at any time, was a sad thing. 

He gave a long exhale through his nose. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Your majesty, how?” Nimble’s voice sounded somewhat choked. “After everything he put you through? Just a year ago, in this very arena, he made a fool of our martial lord, ruined your alliance with the Theocracy, and forced you to become his vassal! You suffered so much because of his schemes! He turned Fleuder into a traitor! He sent a dragon and those dark elf children to your palace to threaten you! They killed Nazami!”

Jircniv nodded. He couldn’t say anything to deny the damage Ainz Ooal Gown had done to him and the Empire in the past. And it was obvious that the death of one of his four imperial knights would leave a wound on the others.

“It wasn’t love at first,” he didn’t brush off any of Nimble’s points. Every criticism he listed was a valid point of concern. “At the start, I was just trying to survive. I had to learn and adapt to a lot of new and incomprehensible things, and as a part of that process, I spent a lot of time watching and trying to understand Ainz. I found more to like than I expected, and before I knew it he was always on my mind.”

Nimble grimaced painfully. “Even still, can you really forgive him for everything he did? All the pain he caused and all the lives he took?”

“I can,” Jircniv stared firmly into the eyes of the anguished knight, “because I’ve seen the power he wields I know he could have done far worse to us with it. Know that he was exceedingly merciful with us.”

Down in the arena, the announcer called out the arrival of Ainz Ooal Gown, which sent the chattering audience into a hush and ended the conversation up in the imperial box. Jircniv turned his gaze forward. 

Of course, anytime the emperor was present at an event, he would be announced as well, so he stood to wave at the people when he was inevitably called on. Even from this distance, the Apostle felt like he successfully locked eyes with the Sorcerer King, so he smiled at him. 

Then the golden emperor took his seat once more and watched the first lamb enter onto the field, innocent and ready to be sacrificed. He felt his smile stretching a little too wide in excitement and leaned forward a little for a better look. Nobody could see him clearly from his current position, so he didn’t try as hard to restrain his demeanor. 

Baziwood and Nimble standing behind him couldn’t understand why their hearts suddenly started pounding in their chests, since they didn’t know about Evoker. They chalked it up to the anticipation.

This would be the first thing the emperor gave to Ainz that he considered to be a proper gift; the first thing he had been able to give to Ainz, who already had everything, outside of his standard duties. 

I hope he likes it…

***

Ainz disembarked the carriage and parted ways with Jir, moving into the waiting room designed for contestants of the Grand Arena. An older man who seemed to be something like an organizer accompanied him while looking like he might fall over from fright at any moment. Ainz stayed calm and cooperative for his sake. Then he had to wait for a few minutes. 

Ainz glanced at his own pitiful attendant and thought about Jir. His two knights were keeping him company far upstairs. Giving him a little time to interact with his old acquaintances was one of the reasons they were visiting the Empire during their honeymoon, so Ainz was happy for him. But still, he felt his mood souring. 

What was that one called, Nimble Arc Dale… Anoch?  

Ainz found the idea that that man was probably saying more bad things about Ainz to Jir behind his back unpleasant. Considering what was said to his face, it must be significantly worse now. 

The flames in Ainz’s eyes flickered in anger before his emotions were forcibly calmed. 

… Then again, nothing he said was wrong. And Jir isn’t someone who would let anyone else determine his opinion for him anyway. 

There would always be people saying bad things about him behind his back. A bad reputation would exacerbate it, but even a saintly reputation wouldn’t stop the rumor mill completely. 

Am I about to make it worse? Ainz wondered. 

Demiurge and Jir had convinced him to go ahead with this wish granting ceremony, as it was officially being called. He could quote their arguments until all the air in his nonexistent lungs was gone, but there would still be people who unilaterally decided Ainz was a monster for killing his own citizens. 

And they wouldn’t be wrong either. Ainz lifted one of his fleshless hands and stared at the snow white bones. If I didn’t want to do this, no argument would have convinced me otherwise. 

His gaze drifted to the simple golden band wrapped around his ring finger, and somehow the sight of it soothed his ethical distress.

The announcers introduced him finally, and the gates leading into the Arena lifted. Ainz entered the ring to thunderous silence. 

Are they being quiet to show respect to their King? I would prefer if they cheered though. 

Well, rather than an exciting performance, today was more akin to a solemn ceremony, so maybe this was more appropriate. 

Ainz spotted Jir up in the stands, his non-existent heart warming as his husband smiled and waved at him. 

I’ll just enjoy this, Ainz decided. 

From the other end of the arena, a human entered. He wasn’t quite middle-aged yet, with a strong build, dark circles under his eyes, and sunken cheeks. Though he marched boldly into the arena, his face was pale and his lips were pressed tightly together. Nevertheless, he met Ainz in the middle of the field.

The human gave an uncertain half-bow. “Your majesty.”

Ainz recalled the name from his file. “Aldean Thornton, correct?”

“Yes, your majesty,” he smiled tightly. “Most people call me Dean.”

“Would you like me to call you that?”

“You can call me whatever you want, your majesty.”

“Is that so? Then I don’t mind if you call me Ainz. Now, you offered to make this more entertaining, if I recall.”

Dean smiled crookedly. “We’re in the Grand Arena after all, and I was a mercenary for ten years. Wouldn’t it be boring for the audience if I just stand here and die? And, as a fighter, there’s this belligerent part of me that wants to try putting a wound on the mighty Sorcerer King just once before I go.”

“I see. That’s a little distressing to hear from my perspective, but if I think of it as the instinct of someone who spent a long time polishing their craft, I don’t mind being your final measure.” 

Ainz glanced at the mercenary’s hip where a simple steel falchion was sheathed. He opened his inventory and took out a much better sword of a similar style and turned it around, hilt first, for the mercenary to take. 

“Your weapon is too weak to wound me, so it won’t do. Use this one instead.”

Ainz didn’t offer him a rune weapon this time. If he showed himself utterly crushing someone with such a blade in public, that would do the opposite of promoting their strength. 

Dean’s eyes widened and he took the weapon somewhat reverently. “Hoh.” He turned it over in his hands and admired the fine craftsmanship. “Is this going to be my family’s inheritance then? If they sold this, they’d be set for life.”

“Why would I give away a weapon powerful enough to harm me?” Ainz shook his head. “I will be retrieving that blade from your corpse after this battle is over. Your family will receive a monthly allowance from the Empire. It will be enough to keep them housed, clothed, and fed for as long as they live. Delivering it in small chunks ensures they can’t do anything silly like gamble it all away, and it can’t be stolen from them as easily. If the economy sees notable changes as the years go by, the amount of money they receive can be adjusted to ensure it’s still sufficient to meet their needs.”

That’s what was written in the report, anyway, Ainz thought to himself. 

Dean’s eyes widened again, and he nodded. “You really thought it through. Thank you.”

Ainz reached into his inventory again, taking out an item that resembled a small microphone. He agreed with Dean that things were a bit boring for the audience right now. The least he could do was explain to them what they were even witnessing. 

“People of the Empire, I am Ainz Ooal Gown, the Sorcerer King. You who are gathered here today have the honor of witnessing my first ever wish granting ceremony.” He swept one arm out to highlight the mercenary next to him. “This man is Aldean Thornton. In exchange for taking his life here today, I will grant one wish he has.”

Ainz covered the head of the microphone and looked at Dean. “Would you like to say anything?”

“Fuck it, why not?” With the courage of a man who had willingly walked to his death, Dean accepted the microphone and addressed the crowd. 

“I’m dying,” he stated. “Not because of his majesty, but because of a disease. My wish is for the Sorcerer King to make sure my wife and children can get by without me, for as long as they live. If I can trade this worthless life for theirs, it’s worth it to me. And I get the chance to fight the strongest man in the world once while I’m at it! It makes my mercenary blood boil!”

“Anna, Caleb, Susan, I love you. And Fergus, you son of a bitch, you win. You’ve outlived me. I already paid off your tab at Dopson’s before I came here, so we’re even.”

With a shrug, he handed the microphone back to Ainz. “That’s all I’ve got to say.”

Ainz nodded and accepted the item back. “Everyone here is a witness for Mr. Thornton’s peace of mind. I swear on the name Ainz Ooal Gown that his wish will be fulfilled, and every one of you has the right to hold me to my word, not that you will have to. Now let the ceremony begin.”

***

The last of the ceremony participants scheduled for the day collapsed lifelessly as her heart stopped in her chest. 

The crowd had witnessed the Sorcerer King kill ten people today, one after the other. Each had a very heartrending story attached to them, but most of the audience was still and silent as if afraid they would be beheaded just for breathing. Some were crying, others were cheering, whispered restlessly among themselves, or had simply left the stands.

Ainz himself felt very satisfied and refreshed. A few of the stories he’d heard from those he killed today stuck in his mind. Only one of the candidates had shown any uncertainty in the face of death. He was somewhat impressed with them overall. Their shared spirit of benevolence and self-sacrifice was admirable. 

But he didn’t feel like any of their deaths was a loss or a shame. They were all people for whom this was their best option, and they chose it willingly. Ainz’s conscience was clear, and each death felt like it relaxed tension that had been with him for so long he barely noticed it anymore. He couldn’t breathe in his current body, but it felt like he had gotten a long, deep breath of fresh air. 

It was worth buying their lives, Ainz decided, and silently thanked Jir for arranging all this. He would be able to enjoy their honeymoon more thoroughly with that invisible weight off his shoulders. 

Ainz flew up to the imperial box after everything was over, floating in front of it for a moment. 

“This is nostalgic,” Ainz commented. 

Jir smirked and let out a short laugh. “I know what you mean, but it’s not a good memory for me.”

Ainz nodded in understanding. Jir was a big fan of the martial lord, and Ainz had not only defeated him but poached him too. Ainz had underestimated how big a fan the emperor was of their martial lord at the time. Not a single cheer had been directed his way that whole fight. 

“I’m sorry. I was hoping you would enjoy it a little more.”

“Come in already,” Jir shook his head. 

Ainz obliged, touching down and taking the seat next to his husband. 

“Did you enjoy your gift?”

Ainz nodded and held a hand to his sternum, the red fire in his eyes burning calmly. “Very much. Thank you, Jir.”

Chapter Text

Jir lowered himself into the pool of steaming hot water and sighed, and Ainz took a moment to burn the picturesque scene into his memory. It was proper etiquette to bathe before entering the pool, so Jir’s golden locks were tossed back and dripping water. His sculpted body was a work of art, and a show of superhuman will and dedication, like always. The warm water made his alabaster skin flush pink. His glittering golden wings were splayed relaxedly over the edge onto the smooth stone floor behind him. 

The scenery was breathtaking as well: they were at the top of a hill-like structure that housed different hot springs with every change in elevation. From here, they could see almost a mile down a curated misty mountain. 

Once the view was engraved deeply in his mind, Ainz entered the water himself. It didn’t feel quite as hot as it was to his pale white bones, but it was still soothing. 

Their time in the Baharuth Empire had ended, and they were now honeymooning on the ninth floor of Nazarick. The plan was to tour around and enjoy all of the luxury facilities, and today they were visiting the hot springs. 

It had been difficult, but Jir managed to convince all the servants to simply remain on standby elsewhere on the ninth floor. They were ready to receive a Message at any time, and they had permission to move around with the Gate spell in an emergency. It seemed like a lot of wasted personnel and pointless hoops to jump through to Ainz, but thanks to that, the two of them could have some real privacy. 

“I was pleasantly surprised to see that baths were popular in the Empire as well,” Ainz mentioned. 

Jir smiled and combed his hair back with his fingers, “Bathing is a culture on the surface, but engineered or evolved strategy underneath. Well-managed bath houses mitigate the spread of diseases, especially in densely populated cities. The more you tie pride together with appearance and cleanliness, the less likely you are to have to deal with an epidemic. Perfumes; clean, brightly colored clothes; well-maintained hair, nails, and teeth; they’re all visible signs of a healthy lifestyle.” His smile widened into a grin, “Overly fixating on grooming has been known to make people more arrogant and closed-minded though. Everything is a trade-off.”

“I see.” Ainz bobbed his head and absorbed the lesson. “Come to think of it, the streets of E-Rantel have been more lively ever since we started importing soaps and dyes from the Empire.”

“There’s a very blurred line between perceived prosperity and actual prosperity,” Jir shrugged. “The people who were locked up in their houses were scared and depressed, but nobody would want to stay that way. They just needed a nudge in the right direction.”

Jir made it sound simple, but Ainz had watched him fix the problem of skittishness in his populace. He had made regular public appearances and speeches in order to reassure the people about the political stability of the Sorcerous Kingdom. He had hired people to do public works, such as building the palace, and got the economy turning. Then he imported luxury goods to give the workers something fun to spend their money on for their wives and daughters. After that, a few instances of the young and pretty homunculus maids being told they were needed for spy duty, while actually being used as plants to make the streets look safe and fun, finally encouraged people to come out of their homes for reasons other than to secure their livelihood. 

A few months later, the results were obvious. The Sorcerous Kingdom was a vibrant and cheerful place, at last. 

“It’s much better this way,” Ainz said softly. 

How could he allow people to live in fear under the name of his beloved guild? That would be an insult to their memory. 

There were just a few little side effects. First, the people of the Sorcerous Kingdom diverged a bit from their original cultures and started to act a little more like citizens of the Empire. Second, Jircniv was being worshiped as a guardian Angel by the people. Third, there was something of an economic bubble currently being sustained only by Nazarick’s treasury and Jircniv’s skills. 

Jir insisted that it was fine: that people needed to become lively again and then they would start driving the economy themselves. And Ainz trusted him.

“Have there been many new businesses opening their doors lately?”

“There have,” Jir nodded. “Mostly small-time  merchants and craftsmen. With manual labor being dominated by the undead, the only jobs left are in the service, administration, academic, and creative fields, so we’ve structured the tax laws to encourage those pursuits. Those who aren’t suited for such things are starting to fill the adventurer roster back up. Now, of the immigrating business owners, some are clearly foreign spies, but we’re using them as much as they’re using us, so it’s fine.”

“I-I see…” He shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but it always struck Ainz how Jir was able to talk about complicated-sounding things as if they were easy to deal with. It was like he knew everything that was going on in the Sorcerous Kingdom like the back of his hand. 

Jir’s intelligent amethyst eyes rested on Ainz, half-lidded. “We’re on our honeymoon. Why don’t we talk about more personal topics?”

Ainz nodded eagerly. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Hm…” Jir held his chin and pondered for a moment. After presumably deciding on a topic, he smiled and nodded, moving suddenly and climbing onto Ainz’s lap, draping his arms over the Overlord’s shoulders. “Do you like how I look with a little more muscle?” he asked playfully. 

Ainz went involuntarily stiff because of how unexpected the change in mood had been for him. As a skeletal undead, his frail form hid a shocking amount of strength, but a human like Jir wore his prowess on his sleeves. 

And saying it was just a little more was a gross understatement. Jir was a fit person when they met, but he was definitely on the slim and sleek side. Now, due to simple necessity, he had acquired far more prodigious strength. Levels and classes could make appearances deceptive, but there was no question that Jir could crush a man’s skull between his thighs.

Ainz marveled at the quality of his husband’s genetics that he never ended up giving off a bulky impression despite the added muscle mass. He was beautiful, that was the best word to describe it.

Jir’s face was flushed, and the psychic nudges Ainz was feeling from Evoker implied it wasn’t just because of the hot spring. The skill was prodding at him with a familiar foggy feeling that he as an undead couldn’t quite understand. Behind the lust, he felt a swelling desire to compliment his husband and hold him close. 

Ainz’s emotions forcibly regulated themselves back to calm. He felt ordinary, natural care and affection filling his hollow chest instead. 

“You’re beautiful, Jir. But more than that, you’re amazing.”

Ainz wrapped his arms around his husband, gently pulling him into a tender hug. He felt soft, feathered wings as heavy as lead drape down over his skeletal arms and dip into the water, and Jir relaxed against his chest. 

“… I love you for that sincerity,” Jir sighed. “You know I worked really hard to be able to move properly again?”

“Of course I know that,” Ainz exclaimed mildly. 

“Do you know what I want to do now that I’ve recovered?” Jir whispered against his neck.

The foggy feeling hit Ainz again, and again the surge of emotion was forcibly stabilized. Ainz was left feeling somewhat off balance as a result.

Jir had every reason to work hard to adapt to life with wings as quickly as possible. But as dense as he could be, Ainz wasn’t stupid; he knew what the human was implying and asking for. 

He had made a promise as well: that he wouldn’t keep Jir waiting too long in the future. 

Ainz willingly dropped some of his emotional defenses so that Evoker could influence him more easily, like during their first night together.

“… I understand,” Ainz caressed Jir’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch. It was hot thanks to the water and the mood. “But it would be bad etiquette to do that sort of thing in a hot spring, and I’m worried about you overheating. We should at least go somewhere with a bed.”

Jir pursed his lips into a half pout and then smiled playfully, nodding. “There are rooms here, right? As soon as we leave the resort, our privacy will disappear.”

Ainz sighed at that truth and nodded. “There are.” 

The undead overlord enjoyed the feeling of his Apostle’s playful mood seeping into him and was happy to be influenced by it. He scooped the figurative angel up in his arms and carried him out of the water. Right when Ainz set Jir down and started gathering towels for them off the racks, he received a sudden, panicked message. 

“L-lord Ainz?”

Ainz made a tongue-clicking sound and let his emotions stabilize, pushing Evoker’s influence out for a while. “One moment, Jir. I’m getting a Message.”

“I’m hearing some prayers I can’t ignore too,” Jir sighed, holding his face. 

“This had better be important, Sebas,” Ainz replied to the message.

“Apologies for interrupting you both. Lady Albedo and Lady Shalltear are fighting, my lord.”

Ainz blinked and his sense of tension immediately went up. “How bad is it?”

“They’ve taken it to the Arena on the sixth floor, Lord Ainz. They’re both fully armed and the duel is about to begin. Lady Albedo has accused Lady Shalltear of blasphemy.”

Ainz held his face, groaning internally.

He wincing at a sudden cracking noise behind him. Jir had gone over to the locker that held his jewelry and tore it clean off its hinges. His teeth were barred in a furious grin and his metallic feathers were bristling in anger. Tossing aside the broken door carelessly, he reached inside and found the Crown of Solomon, placing it on his head.

“Understood. Stand by,” Ainz ordered Sebas and ended the message.

Ainz sent Jir a wary look. It was rare to see him unabashedly angry like this. All Ainz wished for was for everyone to come out of this disturbance unharmed. 

Jir seemed to sense Ainz’s discomfort. He looked at him, his eyes and smile both a little too wide. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to have our precious daughters quiet down for a while.”

The Apostle clasped his hands and closed his eyes in prayer. 

***

Albedo hummed faintly to herself. She traversed the halls of the ninth floor, a thick binder of documents in her arms. With her fathers on honeymoon, her workload as Prime Minister of the Sorcerous Kingdom had immediately increased. She had been prepared to struggle over difficult decisions and let some matters pile up as they waited for the kings to return, but most of the difficult matters were long-term issues that had already been partially addressed on a few other occasions. When the Guardian Overseer reviewed the accounts from back then, she saw that the Lord Apostle had attached notes on his thought process that were clear enough for a grade schooler to understand. 

Thanks to these, she had been able to piece together the Supreme One’s intentions and continue to address most of those difficult issues on her own. 

She was on her way to visit Pestonia before lunch, to discuss the maids’ next plant assignment in E-Rantel. But a familiar, arrogant voice drew her eyes. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Some of my best craftsmanship to date.”

Peering through a door that was cracked open an inch, Albedo saw Shalltear bothering a maid. She would have paid it no attention if not for a golden sparkle that caught her eye. Clutched between Shalltear’s snow white fingers was something that resembled a feather duster. It was crafted out of dozens of unmistakable, stunning gold feathers. 

While Shalltear was ignorantly bragging to the maid and explaining the sexual function of the object, Albedo’s feet stopped. She delicately touched a precious golden feather pinned to her dress, and the blank whiteness filling her head was overcome by rage instead. 

The Guardian Overseer threw open the door to the room, panicking the maid and startling Shalltear. 

“You—! What did you say you’re using those feathers for?!”

“What?” Shalltear turned to face her, smiling smugly. “Are you jealous? Too bad, you’ll have to make your own if you want one.”

Albedo gritted her teeth and dropped the binder full of important paperwork, trying to snatch the feather duster away from the vampire. Shalltear exclaimed indignantly and pushed Albedo away, keeping her toy stubbornly in her clutches. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“That thing is an affront to the Lord Apostle! It should be sent to the treasury and converted to gold coins!”

“Are you crazy?! Do you know how hard I worked to make it?!”

After a brief wrestling match that ended in a stalemate, both guardians stared at each other with their hair and clothes ruffled. While panting, Albedo stood herself up proudly and glared down at Shalltear. 

“Haven’t you been keeping up with the Lord Apostle’s teachings?”

“I have! I have it all written right here!” The vampire pulled out a small, leatherbound journal and defended herself. 

“Then you should know that Lord Ainz gave us life! We’re all his children! The Lord Apostle became our father too when he married Lord Ainz!”

“I know?!” Shalltear shouted back. 

Albedo’s face reddened and she clenched her fists, shouting, “Then how can you use his feathers for a sex toy?! Blasphemy!”

“B—?!” Shalltear reeled back at that word. “How dare you! Lord Ainz may not particularly like this sort of thing, but Lord Peroronchino wouldn’t have a problem with it! Lord Ainz still made me in the image Lord Peroronchino envisioned, so I have his tacit approval!”

Neither guardian was willing to back down an inch. Shalltear wanted to defend her right to indulge, as decided by Lord Peroronchino. Albedo wanted to defend the decency of her fathers. The situation devolved, and soon, both women were standing in the sixth floor’s colosseum, wearing their full battle raiments. 

They had raised a great deal of fuss, and now the whole tomb knew there was about to be a duel. A fight between the strongest floor guardian and the guardian overseer, over charges of blasphemy no less. The stands usually filled with golems were packed with denizens of the tomb instead. 

Albedo and Shalltear both steeled themselves. 

“Lord Peroronchino, let me kick this ugly gorilla’s teeth in and go back to my room to stuff my vampire brides full of the Lord Apostle’s feathers. Amen,” Shalltear prayed. 

“Lord fathers, let me reduce this blasphemous lamprey to a red stain on the floor so her damned ‘feather duster’ can fund her resurrection!” Albedo prayed. 

They both lowered their bodies into combat stances, and then—

“AINZ DOES NOT SUFFER HIS CHILDREN TO HARM ONE ANOTHER!”

A furious voice thundered in both of their heads. 

Unfortunately for Albedo and Shalltear, hearing one of the Lord’s Apostle’s prayers counted as perceiving him, so the activation conditions for Evoker were met. The unusual skill bypassed Shalltear’s natural immunity to charms and bulldozed through both ladies’ high mental defense stats. The two NPCs may have been twice Jircniv’s level, but they weren’t specialized in emotional effects like he was. The Crown of Solomon provided a massive Charisma boost as well, and Golden Emperor was always affecting his subjects now that the King Consort was adorned with hundreds of gold feathers at all times.

The two guardians felt their heads flood with shame and remorse. They collapsed to their knees. Albedo felt tears overflow from her eyes involuntarily, and Shalltear threw up a mouthful of blood onto the dirt. It was only her last meal—she wasn’t injured, but they were both heavily shaken. 

“I’m sorry!” Shalltear cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Albedo stared at the vampire, who looked like she had mentally returned to the time just after learning that she had attacked Ainz while brainwashed. 

Albedo felt like her mind was a muted white canvas. Her face was paler than snow and completely numb. “I only wanted to…” her lips murmured but her voice trailed off.

Both powerful guardians slumped helplessly on the floor for some time, sobbing and trembling. The spectators were all somewhat confused and concerned by this turn of events, but Sebastian stepped into the middle of the arena and helped to clear things up. 

“I’ve just received a Message from Lord Ainz,” he announced. “Lady Albedo, Lady Shalltear, you are to reflect on yourselves in confinement until tomorrow morning. Lord Ainz and the Lord Apostle will address your quarrel then.”

They accepted their punishment like a pair of weak and frightened kittens. It was astonishing how quickly and thoroughly their imposing bearing had vanished. The two high-ranking daughters of Nazarick were too shaken to speak to anyone, but word somehow spread that their meek state was due to divine punishment. 

Ainz was just relieved that the NPCs hadn’t come to blows with one another, and Jir was just glad that his afternoon and evening plans were still salvageable. He quickly returned to his usual charming self.

***

“Well then.” Ainz sat behind his heavy desk, taking in the pitiful appearances of two of the fiercest women in Nazarick. He was on his own this time when it came to sorting out their disagreement. Jir had… overdone it the previous night, so he was undergoing healing and a few hours of forced bedrest. 

Albedo and Shalltear looked like sinners awaiting execution. Their fires were completely extinguished. It was a good reminder of how scary Jir could be when he was upset. 

“Do you know what you did wrong?” he asked them in a gentle tone. 

Both women bowed in their seats. 

“Disagreements are fine, but it should never devolve to fighting amongst ourselves,” Albedo said as if she’d been rehearsing her answer all night. 

“I was going to attack someone from Nazarick again,” Shalltear said with a trembling voice. “I deserve to die.”

Ainz mentally let out a breath. He was glad to see that they were both sincerely reflecting on their actions. 

“I want you all to think for yourselves. I think it’s a good thing when people with different opinions coexist. It’s natural for arguments to get heated sometimes because of that, but you must find another way to resolve your differences. …It breaks my heart to see any of you get hurt.”

“Lord Ainz, I’m sorry! It will never happen again!” Guilty tears rolled down Albedo’s cheeks. 

“I deserve to die, but I’ll live forever if that will make you happy!” Shalltear bit her lower lip and clutched her skirt tightly in her fists.  

Ainz nodded once. “Good. Now, what was it you two got so heated over in the first place? Let’s see if we can’t settle it here verbally.”

“Of course,” Albedo saluted with a hand to her chest and summarized their disagreement neatly. “Shalltear believed that she was within her rights as a creation of Lord Peroronchino to use a custom sex toy made out of the Lord Apostle’s feathers, but I believed it tarnished his dignity.”

Both ladies peered timidly at Ainz, wondering if he would have an immediate verdict for them, The overlord’s voice rumbled out in a low and dangerous tone. 

“What?”

The two guardians stiffened and lowered their heads in deference. Each of them was terrified that their opinion had offended the Supreme One. Or maybe he thought the whole argument was so stupid in the first place that they were both in the wrong. 

But Ainz was very firmly on one side. The mental image of someone else fornicating using Jir’s feathers as an aid was instinctively infuriating to him. 

However, his emotions were soon forced to stabilize, and he considered the other side of the argument more. It wasn’t wrong for Shalltear to do such a thing as a creation of Peroronchino. 

… But Ainz didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it. 

“Shalltear.”

“Yes?! Lord Ainz?” She jumped and straightened in her chair, watching him with trembling red eyes. 

“You are the way Peroronchino intended for you to be. I’ll praise you for that.”

The vampiress held her hands together and smiled in untold relief. “Th-thank you, Lord Ainz.”

Albedo went a bit paler instead. 

Ainz nodded. “You didn’t know any better and were only behaving in the way you were created, so I forgive you for acting out of line this time. However, personally, I find it extremely distasteful. You will send that toy to the treasury to be converted into Yggdrasil gold coins, and you will never fetishize my husband again. Understood?”

Shalltear slumped in on herself, shaking. “Y…yes, my Lord. Understood.”

Albedo let out a small and subtle sigh of relief as some color returned to her alabaster face. 

“Albedo.”

The Guardian Overseer went stiff as a rod. “Yes, my Lord?!”

“Next time you witness something of this nature, please take the time to report it. There should be no reason to mete out punishment with your own hands unless the situation is truly urgent.”

The demoness bowed gracefully. “Of course, Lord Ainz, I understand.”

“Good,” Ainz nodded, content with their replies, then drummed his bony finger tips impatiently atop his desk. His voice was dark again, “Now then… How many others in Nazarick are guilty of this? Jir is beautiful, so I understand simple appreciation and admiration, but for each person the two of you can identify as going too far, I will reduce your punishment. Keep in mind that I won’t permit false accusations. If your investigation reveals no one, I’ll still look positively upon your efforts.”

“I-if I may ask,” Shalltear anxiously raised a hand. “What will you do with them?”

Ainz hummed and leaned back in his chair. “They will receive a reprimand and a posting as far as possible from my husband.”

Shalltear gulped and clenched her delicate white fists, motivated and determined not to receive that same punishment.

Chapter Text

On the marshy soil beside the Great Lake, Cocytus saluted with a fist to his chest and knelt down. Immediately, the lizardman guards behind him lowered themselves as well. 

“My Lords,” cold breath hissed from the insectoid’s mouth. “It is an honor.”

This was the final stretch of their honeymoon now, the part where they could just get away from it all. Ainz nodded in what he hoped was a commanding way. 

“Rise, Cocytus. I trust that everything is prepared?”

“Yes! Please follow me, my Lords.”

Ainz and Jircniv stood separated from the marshy soil by a wooden path, but Cocytus and the lizardmen stayed off of it like it was holy ground.

The fifth floor guardian led Ainz and Jircniv to a wooden cabin that had been constructed while they were enjoying the rest of their honeymoon. That hadn’t given Aura and the undead laborers much time, but they still managed to come up with a lakeside cabin that was luxurious. Filling it with furniture from Nazarick certainly helped. Ainz even saw a dock and a boat that had been prepared for them. The boat was flat and wide with half of its surface shaded by a cloth roof. There was no visible means of propulsion, no sail or oars, but Ainz could vaguely sense some of his undead lurking underneath the vessel, perhaps to push it along from below. 

Despite the NPCs efforts, it all fell a little short of the standard the two monarchs usually enjoyed, but the natural serenity was priceless. 

Again, the icy blue warrior saluted, “We will be regularly patrolling the surrounding land and waters, but our orders are not to enter the lodge. Please enjoy yourselves, my Lords.”

Ainz nodded. Servants were scheduled to arrive via gate to deliver each meal and clean while their lords were dining or away from the cabin, but in general, Ainz would be alone with Jir for a few precious days. 

They went inside to explore and familiarize themselves with their temporary dwelling. Jir found a balcony on the second floor and folded his arms against the railing. The wind tousled his golden hair as he gazed out at the vast blue lake. 

“Let’s have dinner on the boat tonight,” he suggested. 

“Alright.” Ainz nodded and stepped forward to stand next to his husband, admiring the same view. Blue Planet would have loved this place…

Despite thinking of his lost friends, Ainz didn’t feel all that sad or lonely. His gaze drifted to the man next to him, serene and beautiful, and he cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. Jir didn’t react except to smile to himself, but that alone blanketed an easing feeling over Ainz’s spirit. They stood and enjoyed the view in silence for a while longer.

***

“Something wrong, Jir?”

His husband’s concerned voice shook Jircniv out of the dread he had been sinking into unknowingly. Jir gripped Ainz’s hand tighter and shook his head. 

“I’m fine,” he declared, and leaned on the Overlord’s support while crossing the gap between the dock and the lakeboat. His golden wings flapped to stabilize his landing. 

“You can talk to me, Jir,” Ainz said in a deep and very soft voice. He was developing a better and better sense for when his husband was lying, but here, with no one else around, there was no need to put so much focus on dignity. 

The golden emperor let out a breath and smiled a little sardonically. “I was just suddenly a little nervous, knowing I can’t swim.”

He had learned as a child, of course, but no amount of proper form could compensate for material density. There were countless people who would help him in a heartbeat if he fell into the water or mud, but instinctual fear still gripped him the moment he reached the edge of the dock. 

“Come to think of it, I can’t swim either,” Ainz shrugged, reaching into the dark gap in space he called his inventory. He took out a silver pendant, shaped like a single bird wing and hung it around Jir’s neck. “You can cast the fly spell with this.” He tipped his head, “Does that help?”

Jir wrapped his fingers around the pendant and nodded, getting up on his tip-toes to kiss Ainz on the cheek. “It does.”

Ainz pantomimed cleaning his throat, but he was progressively feeling less awkward about these shows of affection. He glanced at the new addition to his husband’s collection and murmured, “Silver doesn’t look bad on you either.”

“I’ll warn you now that nothing does,” Jircniv laughed. He walked toward the opposite end of the boat. It was wide and stable, barely swaying. “How do we move?”

Ainz hummed, “I think, perhaps… Advance .”

He ordered in a commanding tone and the boat smoothly started to sail. Jir blinked at the phenomenon, then his brain spun with answers. Ainz hadn’t cast any spell, it was just a vocal command, therefore, “Who’s under us?”

“Just some undead,” Ainz shrugged. “I wasn’t informed either, but Aura must’ve expected I would be able to sense them. They should’ve been ordered to respond to you as well.”

“Really?” Jircniv smiled slightly and ordered, “Starboard, forty-five degrees.” The boat gradually turned as it continued to advance. “Well that’s handy,” he chuckled, taking a seat at a two-person table in the shade. “I think Aura just stumbled upon another potential use for your undead: the river trade would be revolutionized by this. They would make great oarsmen on the seas too, come to think of it.”

“I’ll be sure to reward her later,” Ainz nodded, sitting down in the other seat. 

After a message came asking for permission, a maid came through a gate to attend to the Apostle’s meal. After he was finished, she cleaned up and left again, and the two kings enjoyed watching the sun set over the lake. 

It was considerably darker with the sun gone, and Ainz raised his hand to cast a light spell, but he hesitated. His undead eyes saw Jir clearly in the dark, leaning over the boat railing, shining faintly in the moonlight. 

“Momonga?” Jir called after a moment.

The Sorcerer King shook himself out of it and cast the spell. A bright orb lifted into the air, ready to follow them anywhere. Jir sighed in contentment and called over the railing, “Take us back to the docks.”

***

Throughout the third stage of their honeymoon, Jir awoke practically glowing. There was no stressful work to be done here, hardly any need for posturing, the scenery was beautiful and soothing, and he was getting laid every night. What wasn’t there to like? 

But one morning, there came an unwelcome surprise. A letter: an official document forwarded from Nazarick. It had to be of pressing importance if the guardians deemed it necessary to interrupt their honeymoon, so Jir swallowed most of his dissatisfaction and read the letter with a severe air. 

“… This certainly has made the rounds,” he declared. “Nazarick sent this message to us from the Slain Theocracy who in turn got it from the elves.”

“What does it say?” Ainz asked darkly. 

“The elf king wants a one-on-one duel with you. If you win, he says you can have his kingdom. If he wins, the perverted old man says he wants to take some of our people.”

Ainz frowned and latched onto the word ‘perverted’. “Is he after Albedo?”

Jir shook his head and smiled darkly. “He wants Mare. He says that ‘her’ heterochromatic eyes are a clear sign that ‘she’s’ one of his descendants. He says it’s his right to take her back and keep the bloodline pure.” Jir set the note down on a table. “Oh, and he wants Aura too, for similar reasons.”

Mare had gained visibility lately because he was in charge of overseeing large construction projects in the Sorcerous kingdom, of which there were an increasing number. 

But Ainz never thought to take precautions against the dark elf’s information circulating. “… He wants to sleep with his own ‘descendants’?” the undead’s voice was a low growl. “Aura and Mare are still children.”

Jir let out a breath. “The empire didn’t used to enslave elves just because they’re pretty, you know. The elf king is a well-known tyrant. His people have become meek and docile under his abuse, and he doesn’t bother to protect ‘weaklings’. It was rare, but there were even cases of elves willingly turning themselves over to well-off human households to escape being forced to bed their king.”

Ainz’s eyes dimmed, “I like him less the more I hear about him.”

Jir nodded and tapped the letter. “The problem is that he threw a fit when Albedo told him that you’re on honeymoon and will answer his request for a duel later. If we let this go on, the Sorcerous Kingdom's prestige will fall and you’ll be branded a coward.”

“After everything I’ve done, would anyone believe that I’m afraid of a duel?”

“Unfortunately, the one redeeming quality that long-eared bastard has is that he’s strong. He became king in the first place because the elves gathered around their strongest member to protect themselves. He carries the blood of heroes, and they say his debauchery is a result of centuries trying and failing to make an offspring that inherits his strength. There’s even debate over whether he could’ve killed Jaldabaoth if they fought.”

“He’s that strong?” Ainz’s sense of caution immediately rose. 

“I’m not sure, but his reputation is strong enough to damage yours. You have to fight him. Ideally, crush him. The elves would welcome even an undead ruler if it’s someone who’ll treat them like people.”

Ainz lowered his head. “… But we’re in the middle of our honeymoon. I can’t just leave you alone.”

Jircniv reached across the table and took Ainz’s hands. “How long will it take you to gate over to the elf kingdom, posture a bit, and annihilate him? Half a day at most? I’ll be fine. I can go take a look at the lizardman village or go fishing on the boat or something. National security is more important. You founded the Sorcerous Kingdom on your power, so you have to continue to demonstrate it whenever the need arises.”

“… I see. If you’re certain, then I’ll go.”

Jir nodded and patted his husband’s hand before reaching for one of the many rings on his fingers. From the spatial pocket within, he pulled out an angel feather quill and a gold-and-gem-bound journal and set them on the table, flipping to a blank page. 

“Now, we don’t have much time to gather information, and you can’t afford to waste mana here, so ask me the two most important questions you can think of.”

Ainz felt his hollow chest swell and ache. He was overwhelmed by the depth of his love’s consideration and resolve, and sad to have to leave his side. 

Annoyingly, the emotions were soon stabilized. 

“Tell me what powers he has, and what tricks he’s planning to use during the fight.”

“You don’t want to know his level?”

“Unless he uses powers beyond Yggdrasil’s logic, I can approximate his level by learning what he’s capable of. And if the opposite is the case, he won’t have a level to measure in the first place.”

Jir nodded. Battles, and especially duels, were his husband’s area of expertise, so he knew best what information he needed. 

“Don’t forget, I can’t predict the future. I’ll only be able to identify traps he placed in advance or is already planning to place.”

“I won’t rely on your Revelations’ intel too much, but the slightest advantage in intelligence can make all the difference the moment a trap springs. Besides, with all of this setup and the elf king’s rotten personality, I don’t believe he hasn’t prepared anything.”

Jir nodded, took up his pen, and opened himself to the foreign knowledge of Revelation. 

***

Jircniv sat at the table for some time, staring at where Ainz had been just a moment ago. He himself insisted he go, but it was still lonely without him. Pestonia came by via the same gate that took Ainz, staying long enough to heal Jircniv’s awful headache and restore enough mana for him to think straight, but he still felt lethargic after using his skill to his limit.

After a few minutes, Jir forced himself to stand up. “Let’s keep the weight of my words, at least,” he murmured, making his way out of the cabin. “Cocytus,” he called. 

Instantly, the giant, ice-blue warrior made himself known, accompanied by a handful of trained lizardman guards. They all bowed in unison. 

“Yes, my lord?”

“I want to take a look at the lizardman village.”

Surprisingly, Cocytus lowered his head further and apologized. “Forgive me, Lord Apostle. We’re happy to escort you, but the path does not yet extend into the lizardman village, since their webbed feet are better suited to the marshy soil and they have no need of it. Nor did we think to prepare a palanquin. If you would allow us to lay down our bodies, my lord—”

“No, I won’t permit any of you to be my stepping stones,” Jir shook his head. If he stepped on the backs of the lizardmen, he was liable to break them. But at the same time, he couldn’t risk sinking into the mud. “You, Cocytus, will carry me. Do you mind?”

“Do I mind?” The insectoid breathed out a vast cloud of cold air, his mandibles grinding excitedly. “It is an honor, my lord.”

With great care and gentleness, Cocytus lifted the Apostle. As a high-level warrior, he had more than enough strength to do it easily. Cocytus’s shoulders were broad enough for the human to sit on one of them. Jir held one of the icy crystals sprouting from the insectoid’s back for balance, while one of Cocytus’s arms secured his legs for added support. 

The chitinous blue guardian had a constant cold aura about him, but in this summer heat, it was actually rather refreshing. 

They set out immediately, and Jir finally got to see the lizardman village up close. It wasn’t impressive. It was underdeveloped culturally and technologically, but there were still elements to take interest in; things that came about from living in a wetlands environment that you wouldn’t see elsewhere. He found the houses built atop wooden lattices particularly interesting.

The lizardmen were wary of him, more than Jircniv was used to. Lizardmen must’ve had a very different sense of beauty to humans, because he didn’t see lust in any of their eyes. Mineral resources were limited in this environment too, so gold didn’t impress them as much. The main thing they understood was that riding Cocytus meant he was an important person to the Sorcerer King and could have any of them killed on a whim. 

Because of that, Jir didn’t get to see the village at its most lively. People quieted down and made way when he passed. He was even hearing a deluge of prayers begging they be spared from death and suffering.

He was amused to think he was experiencing crowds from Ainz’s perspective for a change. 

But his guide eventually got fed up with it. 

“Such disrespect,” Cocytus growled deep in his chest and clacked his mandibles. The nearest lizardmen flinched and bowed on their hands and knees to try and make up for whatever slight they had committed. “This person is the Lord Apostle, husband of Ainz Ooal Gown, second in command of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, and King Consort of the Sorcerous Kingdom. He is the Supreme One’s mouthpiece. You should be overjoyed to be in his presence.”

The lizardmen pressed their heads lower, almost dipping their snouts into puddles and mud. “Praise the Lord Apostle,” they chanted like a protective talisman. 

Jir patted the top of Cocytus’s head and laughed faintly. “Thank you, Cocytus, but I don’t need them to show strict decorum. This is a casual visit.”

Cocytus nodded and swept one arm out over the crowd. “The Lord Apostle permits you to rise. Be at ease.” And he asked, “Lord Apostle, do you have any wisdom to share with this village? How can we better serve Lord Ainz?”

Ah, now I have to work on my honeymoon. Jir knew this might happen, but he was still a little dissatisfied about it. But he put an enigmatic smile on his face and spread his wings to crest behind him like an enormous halo. 

“Prosper. Spread and proliferate. Right now, you are all too small and isolated to be of real help to Ainz. In his perspective, your current value lies only in a few exceptional individuals among you and in your role in Cocytus’s personal journey. Even just this ensures your protection and survival, but you shouldn’t be content with it.”

Cocytus answered with some shame in his voice, “Progress to conquer the rest of the Great Lake region is still ongoing. We’re limited in the level of forces we’re allowed to access, so it’s mostly Lizardmen doing the fighting.”

“Think about why that is,” Jircniv demanded. 

“Why?” Cocytus echoed. 

“Would Ainz arbitrarily restrict your military might? Of course not. So there must be a reason behind it. Think about what that might be.”

Cocytus had already taken his first steps as an independent thinker among the Nazarick sheep, so although he wasn’t the smartest NPC, he had practice in using his head this way. His mandibles clicked thoughtfully as he considered the Apostle’s words. 

“… Less support from Nazarick means that the Lizardmen have to pull more weight, so it could be to train them, or to train me as their general. That said, the strength of each of the surrounding groups is no worse off, so even with training, military conquest will continue to be extremely challenging. However, Lord Ainz told me to put this entire lake region under Nazarick’s control. Hm… I see!” He lifted his head suddenly and looked to Jircniv. “Just like with the vassalized nations, diplomacy is also a conquering tool. And just like the initial fight to conquer the lizardmen, alliances make a group stronger.”

Jircniv nodded. “And whereas you have been denied military reinforcements from Nazarick, no restrictions have been placed on diplomatic tools such as food and other trade goods.”

“I see!” Cocytus released a surge of cold steam from his mouth, frosting over the mud at his feet. 

“However, the most important reason to withhold Nazarick’s military is because of its destructive power,” Jircniv added solemnly. “It’s possible to annihilate the entire ecosystem around this lake if suitable caution isn’t taken. Ainz doesn’t wish for the senseless extinction of species. They’re beings who could shelter under him one day.”

“I see… As I had heard, Lord Apostle, your wisdom is boundless. That you can interpret the Supreme One’s intentions so clearly is marvelous.”

“Thank you,” Jir folded his wings behind his back. “Now then, I heard the representative of this village is an interesting person. Could you help me arrange a meeting?”

“Right away, my lord!”

***

The white lizardman female bowed deferentially. She had a practiced aura as if she had taken this pose many times before. The air about her was very tense and serious. Considering she had been forced into being a mole among her people in exchange for her mate’s resurrection, a healthy dose of caution toward the people of Nazarick was to be expected. 

“To what do I owe the visit of such an esteemed personage to such a humble place?”

Jir smirked. Crush Lulu’s meaning essentially translated to, “I have to be polite, but why the hell are you here? Please leave.” Jir wasn’t an expert in lizardman body language, but this wasn’t the first demihuman he’d interacted with, and he could see smoldering fear and resentment deep within the albino’s red eyes.

The winged human took his time to respond. He recalled the history of these lizardfolk and how they fell under Nazarick’s banner. And he took in Crush’s sleek white scales. He had no idea if she was considered beautiful or not among her own kind, but she was certainly eye-catching. 

She probably triggered Ainz’s interest as a collector, but I doubt he ever had any attraction to her. He allowed her to mate and bear children, anyway. 

Satisfied that—despite her uniqueness—this one wasn’t competition, Jir let himself relax a little. He smiled at Crush, and she peered at him in mild confusion. 

“Well, for starters, report.”

Crush closed her eyes, her brow creasing as she realized Jircniv was aware of her status as a mole. She breathed a sigh of regret. “Nobody is thinking about resisting Nazarick. The memory of your strength is still too fresh. However, there is some dissatisfaction regarding the conquering of the lake. They wonder why they have to fight and be injured when you people could snap your fingers and finish it. General Cocytus’s standing is still high among the people.”

“Right, the lake. You’ll hear about it from the people outside, but the situation should change soon. Moving on, do you understand who I am?”

Crush Lulu opened her eyes and beheld him with an unshaken gaze. “General Cocytus introduced you. To summarize… you are Ainz Ooal Gown’s mate, correct?”

“Correct. I’m the person who understands him the best. And you are squandering an opportunity, you know?”

Crush blinked and furrowed her brow. “An opportunity?”

Jir lifted a bejeweled finger and pointed at the lizardman. It was rude, but Emperors were allowed to be rude in this way. “Your albinism, your white scales, they’re a rare trait among your species.”

The lizardman representative covered her torso with her hands and glared at Jircniv. “What are you saying?”

“Ainz is a collector. He protects what’s his with all of his power, and he strongly desires to obtain unique things for himself, be they objects or people. He doesn’t want your body for any carnal reasons,” Crush blushed in embarrassment, lowering her hands to her lap and hanging her head, “but he would prefer if you were in a position where he could see you more often. If you took advantage of that, you could obtain a great deal of power and safety for your family. But you don’t. Are you afraid?”

Crush took a shaky breath and steadied herself. Jir was mildly impressed with how quickly she was able to regain control. This demihuman from a backwater village carried herself better than most nobles. 

“It isn’t just a question of how far I would go for my family—because I would do anything for them. It’s also a question of how much my family will tolerate from me. In exchange for power and safety, there are only two things I can offer: my body and my skills. I don’t want to be a pet in a cage, no matter how pretty the cage is, so I refuse the former. But the latter… I would have to work for Nazarick’s aims. I may one day subject another people to the same suffering my tribe experienced. How would my mate and children look at me then? A kind mother will have become a monster.” She shook her head. “One doesn’t gain power without cost. You must’ve given up something also. If it was worth it for you, then good. But for me, it is not.”

Jircniv considered this woman, propping his chin on his fist. She’s a very deep thinker. And very human. Nazarick would benefit greatly if she was willing to actively contribute. 

“I gave up my common sense and my right to bear children,” the emperor shrugged and admitted. “I was no saint before joining Nazarick, but even still, I was framed as a victim… and later as a savior.”

Crush examined him as he spoke. Jircniv could see the gears in her mind turning and he kept up the performance, genuine though it was. 

“Nazarick is not entirely a monolith, because Ainz himself is a moderate. Different high-ranking servants offer their opinions, and he chooses the one that best benefits the tomb. There are demons among them who would argue for inflicting as much pain and suffering as possible. There are soft-hearted people who arrange plans to evacuate helpless children. I myself am fighting for the continued survival of humanity. In short, if you’re competent enough, you won’t have to commit atrocities in the name of Ainz Ooal Gown. The more exceptional you are, the more he will see the value in your people and value your opinion as well.”

Crush’s serpentine tongue flicked out of her mouth as she considered his words intently. “… I have two questions. Why would you give me this advice? And why do you want to help humanity?”

Jir was kind enough to give her a straightforward answer, rare in the world of politics. “I’m helping you because I think you’ll be able to help me in return later. The moderate and good factions in Nazarick are understaffed. I can pull considerable weight from above, but it’s hollow unless there are people in the middle and lower ranks who sympathize.

“As for humanity, I just don’t want my species to go extinct, that’s all.”

“Ah, you’re human?” Crush blurted. 

Jir blinked. “Yes… Did the wings perhaps confuse you?”

“Yes, I didn’t know humans could grow wings.”

“They can’t,” he laughed. “I’m special.”

“I see.” 

She sounded so serious that Jir couldn’t help laughing. 

“No, I’m sorry, you’re probably thinking that’s how I got Ainz’s attention, like your albinism, but that isn’t true. I didn’t have wings when we married. I only grew them later because of a skill.”

“In that case, may I ask two more questions?”

The human lounged back and nodded, “Go ahead.”

“How did you catch Lord Ainz’s attention?”

“We met because of my status as an emperor ruling a nation of humans in close proximity to him. I got his attention because I’m very good-looking and charismatic for my species—Ainz’s sense of beauty is similar to a human’s. Then I kept his attention because I was just clever enough to play along with his games.”

“We’re in somewhat similar situations,” Crush nodded and held her hands over her heart. “But I’m glad Lord Ainz doesn’t see me as beautiful. I’m happy being together with my mate, Zaryusu.” She peered up at Jircniv again. “My last question, why did you ride into the village atop a powerful subordinate like Cocytus? It doesn’t sound like you wanted to intimidate us.”

“I’m not suited to walking on muddy soil,” Jir admitted. “Neither physically nor due to social expectations.”

“Then why not fly over it?”

“Unfortunately my wings aren’t suited to flying.” Come to think of it, I could’ve used the pendant. Jircniv was treating it more as an emergency escape tool, so he hadn’t thought of it earlier. 

“It sounds like you’re unsuited to many things, my lord.”

He laughed at her brazenness. “Walking in mud would not have helped save the people of my empire, nor would flying in the sky have preserved my species. I hope to see you in Nazarick, Crush Lulu. I think you may be suited to it as I am.”

***

After Cocytus delivered Jircniv back at the cabin, he decided to get on the boat and try fishing, since Ainz had yet to return. He had a fishing rod and some wine, so even if he caught nothing it would be a suitable way to pass some time. Jircniv wondered if his husband had defeated the elf king yet. He had no doubt he would be victorious. 

… He hoped he wouldn’t get hurt in the process. 

Jir refrained from sending a prayer of good luck, both because he didn’t want to distract his lover mid combat and because he doubted he had recovered enough mana to cover the distance. 

Jircniv reached for his wine glass and gasped when the boat suddenly shook. It had been a very stable and smooth-going vessel ever since he first boarded it, so his first thought was that some creature had collided with it underwater. But a voice from behind him banished that notion and sent a shiver of dread down his spine.

“Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix.”

Jir set his glass down with faintly trembling fingers and shook off the wine that had sloshed onto his hand when the boat shook. He stood and turned to face the intruder, wondering who was capable enough to get past Cocytus’s encirclement. 

Jir’s eyes widened. 

It appeared to be a knight in platinum armor. Six weapons of various types hovered weightlessly around him. Whoever this person was, his appearance and bearing screamed strength the same way the floor guardians of Nazarick did. 

The emperor narrowed his eyes and did his utmost to stay calm and play smart. The interloper had spoken instead of immediately attacking, so perhaps things weren’t as bad as they appeared. 

“That’s me,” he declared. “And just who are you?

“Riku Aganeia.”

It was a false name, given with so little conviction that Jircniv wondered if the stranger was even properly trying to pass it off as his own. 

“Mr. Aganeia, you’re intruding on private property right now. My guards will be here shortly, so I’d like an explanation.”

“It’s alright,” Riku spoke in a reassuring tone that immediately got on Jircniv’s nerves, not that he showed it. “I have a few minutes lead on them. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me with what, exactly?”

“You’re being held against your will by the Sorcerer King, are you not?” Riku held out an inviting hand. “Come with me. I’ll help you escape.”

Jircniv peered at the outstretched hand and raised a brow. For the sake of gathering information, he didn’t correct the misunderstanding. “You wouldn’t do this out of the goodness of your heart. What would you ask of me in exchange?”

“Hm… your doubt is understandable. I want to know everything you’ve learned about Ainz Ooal Gown. Is he an NPC or a player? Does he possess any so-called World Items… And admittedly, you will be bait to lure him out to fight me where I’ll have the advantage. But it isn’t like you can truly be free until he’s dead, so I hope you’ll understand.”

How forthcoming, Jircniv thought. Is he that sure I’m a victim here? But he knows a lot about the gods. And if he’s willing to challenge Ainz anyway, he must be strong. I need to buy time for Cocytus to get here. 

“That’s all well and good if you can back it up. How can I trust that you can actually defeat Ainz?”

“I can and I must… Please trust me.”

Tch. He clammed up. Riku seemed loose-lipped, but not about his strategy, apparently. 

“I’d be staking my life on you if I went along with this, so give me something at least.”

“I’m your best chance, aren’t I? How many are still willing to oppose the Sorcerer King?”

“My lord!”

Jircniv heard Cocytus’s voice and saw him skating atop the surface of the lake as he froze it. Relief swelled in his heart, and he sent Riku Aganeia a small smile. 

“It looks like one.”

However, Cocytus impacted some invisible barrier before he could reach the boat. “What is this? Get out of my way!” He struck at it with Herculean strength, but it didn’t budge. Jircniv felt his confidence dropping and cold sweat bead on his brow. 

Riku Aganeia spoke once more, still with his hand outstretched. “Come with me,” he said again.

Jircniv gritted his teeth. He couldn’t play along anymore, not while Cocytus was watching. Even… even if he died, Ainz would surely save him. Even if his death was permanent, it would be suitable for an emperor. 

“No.” Jir hid the fear from his eyes and stood proudly with a hand over his heart. “I am Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix. Ainz Ooal Gown is my husband, and I am his Apostle. I won’t surrender to anyone who wishes to harm him or his children.”

“Lord Apostle!” Cocytus pressed his four hands against the invisible wall and called out in a pained voice. “I’m sending for help!”

Riku Aganeia ignored Cocytus, focusing only on Jircniv. “I see. You aren’t free to express any dissent in front of his subordinates. Well, I’ll be taking you with me whether or not you resist. Because it is my duty.”

The platinum knight began to walk closer to Jircniv, his movements strangely rigid and perfect, and thus odd-looking on top of a gently swaying boat. Jircniv clenched his teeth and put authority into his voice. “Stop right there!”

Riku hesitated for a moment, with one foot awkwardly in the air, but he shook his head and continued forward. 

Jir clicked his tongue. Many of his buffs weren’t active because Riku wasn’t a subject of his, but still, he had impressive willpower to just shrug off Evoker like that. It looked like he was indeed made to feel something but simply pushed his feelings aside. 

Then I truly can’t reason with him. 

As his last resort, Jircniv activated Downfall of Castle and Country. “Submit!” he commanded, willing to use his only brainwashing slot on this person. 

This time, Riku didn’t even flinch. “Yggdrasil’s World Items won’t work on me, but it’s a relief to see you aren’t using that on anyone else yet.”

“Fly!” Jir shouted, activating the silver wing pendant Ainz had given him a few days ago. He took off into the air, heading to Cocytus, even if he expected the barrier to stop him. Surprisingly, Riku Aganeia also took to the air, floating just like his weapons, and he chased after the golden emperor with much more urgency than before. 

Perhaps this barrier only works one-way? Jir had just enough time to hypothesize and feel hope before an armored hand clenched around his ankle. 

Anger and fear commingled in his chest, and he shouted vehemently, “Release me!” Jir spun around and struck out at the knight with the only limbs that could reach him at this angle: his wings. The knight shifted his floating greatsword to block, but when Jir’s first wing made contact, it carried enough momentum to send the weapon careening away. His second wing impacted with incredible force against Riki’s helmet, half crumpling it. 

I killed him! Jir thought in shock, seeing half of his kidnapper’s head blown in. He stopped attacking because of that false notion and his lack of combat experience, but then he felt the grip around his ankle tighten and a shiver ran up his spine. 

“Perhaps I underestimated you a little. Nevertheless.”

The invisible barrier Cocytus was pressing against suddenly disappeared, and the insectoid warrior wasted no time rushing forth to save his master. 

“Unhand the Lord Apostle!” he demanded. But before any of his weapons could do much as touch Riku’s platinum armor, both he and Jircniv vanished from mid air.

Chapter Text

It took us three hours just to get to this point, Ainz sighed internally. He had teleported to Nazarick and made everyone rush through all the preparations for his duel with the elf king, but the surrounding nations wanted to dress this event up into more than just two kings killing each other. Perhaps they thought the extra ceremony and pomp would make others less likely to initiate such a challenge in the first place. Perhaps they were trying to make the event seem more civilized. 

Or perhaps they just wanted an excuse to be there and watch, as well as time to move their people into place. There was nobody from the surrounding nations who didn’t want to know the outcome of this battle as soon as possible. 

Therefore, the morning consisted of rapid paperwork and communications, followed by Gating over to the Elf Kingdom and fraternizing with foreign leaders. There were people here from every nation within a few days’ travel. They must’ve set out the moment the elf king issued his first challenge in order to get here so fast without magic. 

Each and every leader had a turn to give a short speech about their stance regarding this duel. Some were very tepid in their response, not outwardly favoring either side, like the Argland Council State and the Draconic Kingdom. Others, like the Roble Holy Kingdom and the Re-Estize Kingdom, cheered on the Sorcerer King’s victory. The Slaine Theocracy took an alternate approach of disparaging the Elf Kingdom when their turn came. 

The elf king himself had not bothered to attend these official proceedings, so a very tired looking elf woman paid lip service to her king’s strength and righteousness with not an ounce of passion in her gaze or voice. 

“Lord Ainz,” Albedo chirped, as Prime Minister she had naturally come along, “that ignorant lesser being didn’t bother to speak for himself. He’s blatantly disrespecting us. I can speak in your place to return the favor, if you’ll allow it.”

Ainz hummed to himself. Public speaking is nerve-wracking, especially in front of this many foreign leaders. He found it tempting to accept her offer. What would Jir say?

“… Thank you, Albedo, I appreciate the offer. However, every other leader here spoke for themselves. Would it not also be disrespectful to them if I left it to you? The elf king is the aggressor here. We should make it clear to everyone else that we were only caught up in his antics and are the more reasonable party.”

“I understand.” Albedo looked slightly disappointed for a moment, but her eyes still glittered with respect and admiration. 

Ainz found her gaze more burdensome than public speaking, so he hurried up onto the speaking platform and behind the podium. Looking down at the crowd, everyone here was prepared to hang on every word he said. Their attentiveness was through the roof, the air was thick, and the silence was ear-shattering. 

… Oh wow. Ainz felt his anxiety spike and then stabilize. He placed his hands on the podium and leaned a little toward a small item embedded in it, designed to amplify speech. This is already taking too long. Let’s keep it brief. 

“The Elf King has severely offended me with the rude timing of this challenge,” he began. “But ultimately, the reason I’ve been forced away from my honeymoon is due to not displaying my power clearly enough. I will rectify that mistake today.”

Ainz stepped down and returned to his seat. His casual confidence sent many of the leaders into discussion with their delegations, but he barely cared. Despite his wishes, this show wasn’t over yet. A feast had been organized for lunch, and the fight would start only after everyone was full of food and alcohol. 

Ainz thought his time would be much better spent with Jir.

The entire capital city of the elves was arboreal, by the way. The conference hall itself was in a hollow cut into a particularly gargantuan tree. Ainz quickly grew bored of the endless wood aesthetic. The banquet bored him as well. Ainz’s undead body was incapable of imbibing food and drink, and nobody had gone out of their way to speak to him during it.

Ainz looked down toward Albedo beside him and asked something to help pass the time, “How is the food?”

She made a brief bitter face and whispered back, “The meat is tough and over-seasoned, the vegetables are overcooked and under-seasoned, and the wine isn’t strong enough to penetrate my resistances.” 

It was a very harsh evaluation of what looked like a fairly high-class meal to Ainz. 

“I see. That’s too bad.”

To his other side, Aura and Mare were also picking at their food and frowning. They were the only other ones accompanying Ainz this time. They both had world items for their protection, so it wasn’t necessarily for their safety. They were here to witness the elf king’s death and hopefully feel relieved by it.

“I want a cheeseburger,” Aura grumbled. 

“S-sister, that’s rude,” Mare whispered. 

“Who cares? The guys who cooked this are our enemies!”

“The elves aren’t necessarily our enemies,” Ainz reminded them, worried about how being enemies with their own race might affect their development. “They have no say over their king’s actions. Anyway, try not to hold any grudges against them; they’ll be joining us as citizens soon.”

“Yes, Lord Ainz,” Aura and Mare sang. 

Albedo picked at her food and said, “I’m sorry, my lord. That you have to waste your precious time here over something so pointless…”

Ainz wanted to pat her head to reassure her, but they were in a public setting, so he refrained. “Don’t worry, Albedo. You worked harder than anyone to get us to this point as soon as possible. I’m very grateful for it. Thanks to you, I’m sure we can finish this soon enough that I can have dinner with my husband tonight.”

“Lord father…” Albedo smiled, touched by his praise and gratitude. Then she remembered they were in public and covered her mouth. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Lord Ainz—I was overwhelmed with joy and momentarily forgot we’re here on official duty.”

“Calm down, Albedo. It’s fine.”

But Ainz caught shocked looks from the far corners of the vast dining table, and he saw a scribe from the Theocracy furiously noting something down. 

While Ainz internally debated whether he should say anything to clarify the situation, the world kept turning. 

“Hey, not fair!” Aura pouted at Albedo. “I want to call Lord Ainz dad too!”

“M-me too!” Mare bobbed his head. 

The room’s attention was quickly gathered onto the Sorcerous Kingdom’s delegation. Aura and Mare’s lineage was of great importance for the purpose of this gathering. King Zanac, seated not too far away, made use of his relatively close relationship to the Sorcerer King to lean forward and cautiously ask, “Lord Ainz, could you be the father of these children?”

Ainz felt complicated. He looked at the twins’ hopeful gazes and didn’t want to disappoint them, but he didn’t want to steal credit away from Bukubuku Chagama either. 

“Not in a biological sense,” he said gently. “But their mother entrusted them to me, and I think of them as my own.”

Zanac nodded in understanding— whatever he thought he understood, anyway. Aura and Mare beamed with wet eyes. 

“F-father…”

“Dad…”

“Then, excuse me, what about Prime Minister Albedo?” Zanac continued. 

Ainz opened his mouth but Albedo spoke first, holding a hand proudly to her chest. “Of course, Lord Ainz is the father that gave me life.”

Zanac’s eyes widened slightly, but he couldn’t ask anymore questions, interrupted by the late entrance of the Elf King, Decem Hougan. He kicked the doors open and sauntered in confidently. In his hand was a clean, white skull, missing the top of its cranium and sloshing with bright red wine. King Decem crashed into his seat, directly opposite Ainz’s, kicked his boots up on the table, and drank brazenly. 

Everyone else at the table sent him withering glares, especially the NPCs. He scoffed at all of them. 

“What’s with the ugly looks? Feeling nervous?” King Decem snorted at his own joke and sipped his wine.

“… So you're the king of the elves,” Ainz answered in a low voice. “Considering you were impatient enough to drag me here in the middle of my honeymoon, you’re quite leisurely.”

“Pah, honeymoons. Waste of time, just like marriage.” King Decem scoffed, sipped his drink, and lifted the skull cup with a coy smile. “What do you think? Nice, isn’t it? Did you know him, by chance?”

“Did I know who?” Ainz asked. 

“Hey, I know your eyes have rotted away, but are you blind? This!” King Decem shook his skull cup, causing some wine to slosh onto Ainz’s empty plate. 

Albedo gritted her teeth and her pupils shrank to thin slits. “Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

The elf king glared at her like she was a mere eyesore. “What? My hand slipped. It’s not like I ruined his meal, right?”

“Albedo.” Ainz held a hand in front of the demoness to calm her down and sent a warning look to the twins who were also getting riled up. Then he turned to the elf king. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from provoking my delegation.”

King Decem smiled wryly and shook his cup again. This time it was empty enough not to spill. “Answer my question, Sorcerer King.”

“I don’t recognize them. Who were they?”

He shrugged and took another drink. “How should I know? It was just some skeleton—I can’t tell you undead apart.”

“That’s obvious.”

King Decem’s lips stretched away from his teeth in something similar to a smile. “Quite cold, aren’t you? Though I guess you would be, being dead and all. Still, seeing a member of your own race reduced to crockery doesn’t bother you at all, huh?”

Albedo gritted her teeth, “To compare Lord Ainz to a mere skeleton—!” 

Ainz held up a hand to silence her and glared calmly at the elf king. “I may be a skeletal undead, but I’m an Overlord. Skeletons are a different race entirely, even if you may think we look similar.”

King Decem laughed. “I see! My mistake. I wouldn’t make a fuss either if someone showed me a human skull.”

The elf king was collecting death glares as if he was trying for the world record.

“Now then,” he turned his gaze to the twins. Mare shrunk away while Aura glared ferociously. “Yes, those eyes are certainly mine. I don’t remember sleeping with any dark elves lately, but whatever.” King Decem eyed Aura up and down, “Hm… just a few more years, huh?” Then he turned to Mare, “And I’ll be sure to set you up with some suitable women when the time comes, boy.”

Ainz was mildly surprised that the elf king managed to get Aura and Mare’s genders right when he addressed them… though that sentiment was vastly overshadowed by irritation over his words and the fact that he didn’t bother to remember their names. 

“I hate you,” Mare whispered.

“Lord Ainz is gonna kill you before you can do anything to us,” Aura said sharply with her arms folded.

“Following the strong is a good instinct,” King Decem smiled at her.

The elf king didn’t look worried at all. Ainz couldn’t imagine where he was getting his confidence from. Thanks to Jir, he already knew what the man was capable of, and it wasn’t that impressive. Better than most new-worlders, perhaps, and an interesting build, but nothing he had to worry about. 

King Decem snapped his fingers and a female elf came in carrying a small, wooden box on a red, satin pillow. 

“For you, Ainz,” he announced.

Jir had foreseen this with his Revelation: the elf king intended to offer a gift that was really nothing but an insult to humiliate and demoralize Ainz before the fight. In fact, his entire behavior up until this point was for that purpose. He remarkably hadn’t planned any traps to use during the fight itself. 

Regardless, though it wasn’t what he had initially expected, Ainz was prepared for this moment.

Albedo stood from her seat and accepted the box in Ainz’s stead. She opened it cautiously and showed the contents to her master. 

“It appears to be some kind of potion,” she announced, displaying a small glass vial full of clear liquid. 

“It’s a stamina potion of sorts,” King Decem explained with a shrug. “An impotent king is an embarrassment to his nation, after all.”

Ainz heard a creaking sound coming from Albedo’s direction, and he wasn’t sure if it was the box lid she was holding that was under strain or the teeth behind her smiling lips. 

Ainz took a good look at the potion and nodded, gesturing to Albedo to close the box. She did, hands faintly trembling in fury, though otherwise she was composed. 

“I see. Thank you for the gift. I hope it helps my husband forgive me for being gone for part of our honeymoon. What do you think, Albedo?”

“As long as our alchemists deem it fit for human consumption, then of course, lord father,” she bowed her head gracefully and delivered the perfect follow up. 

Decem made a sour face, muttering, “So you were a demon?” but Ainz didn’t hear him clearly and ignored him. 

“I’ve brought a gift for you as well.”

Albedo fetched a small container made of a near-indestructible, gold-like material, encrusted with gems and beautiful carvings. 

The elf king frowned as he took and examined the object. “What is this? Some kind of vase?”

“It is an urn,” Albedo explained. “One fit for a king. You’ll find nowhere else capable of working with the materials it's made of.”

“An urn? What’s that?”

“We will place what remains of your body inside” Ainz stated matter-of-factly.

King Decem’s brow twitched and he smiled angrily. “Good. This will be a much prettier way to display your ugly bones after my victory.”

“How dare you!”

“What did you say?!”

“Y-you take that back n-now!”

All three NPCs were instantly incensed, but Ainz waved them down. This measuring match was nothing but a time drag keeping him from more important matters. He didn’t want to delay the fight with endless bickering. 

“We’ve exchanged gifts, and shared a meal. Can we finally get to the main event now?”

“Eager to die?” the elf king laughed, rising to his feet. “Fine. Let’s take this to the arena.”

***

The arena the elf king had prepared was on the forest floor, which was rare for any elvish construction that Ainz had seen. It had to be wide enough to allow them to fight freely while guests watched on, so there just wasn’t enough space for it elsewhere. Plenty of elves were guarding the perimeter against land-based predators.

Ainz surveyed the wooden bridges high above the arena, where the onlookers were gathered. The NPCs looked excited to finally show the elf king who he was dealing with. The foreign leaders were all very tense and focused. Ainz himself was calm, and King Decem was so relaxed and cocky it was almost impressive. 

The leader of the Theocracy stood up to announce the match to everyone, holding the item that had previously been embedded in the podium to his mouth. 

“King Ainz Ooal Gown and King Decem Hougan will now duel for the ownership of the Elf Kingdom and the dark elves Aura Bella Fiora and Mare Bello Fiore. In this match, anything goes. Winner takes all and all results are final. When I ring this bell, the fight will commence.”

He took a bell from a nearby subordinate and rang it crisply.

King Decem lept back and immediately started using a skill, but Ainz held a hand to the side of his head and shouted in bone-chilling fury.

“What?! ” The audience fell as quiet as death. “How could you let this happen?! Cocytus! ”

The air was silent as the Sorcerer King gritted his teeth and slowly lowered his hand. He turned and glared at the Elf King with blazing red eyes. “I just received word that my husband has been kidnapped.”

Up on the bridges, the NPCs gasped and looked horrified. Most of the other leaders looked like they were weighing whether this was some sort of ploy. 

“Did you have a part in this?” Ainz demanded. “Did you draw me away at this time on purpose, to make him vulnerable?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Decem shrugged and shook his head, grinning with his annoying face. “It sounds like an excuse to run away from our duel to me.”

Ainz’s eyes burned darkly and he lowered his chin, “I see.” 

A black aura erupted from him. King Decem didn’t realize it, but the shiver down his spine was because he narrowly resisted several instant death effects. 

“I will find out what role you had in all this after I defeat you and deliver you to Neuronist.”

“Big words!” Decem spread his arms wide. “But I wonder if you can live up to them, undead!”

The soil making up the floor of the arena surged, transforming into a massive earth elemental. “Behold Behemoth!”

Ainz had already heard about this from Jir’s Revelations, so he was unimpressed. 

“A mere Primal Earth Elemental,” he declared, summoning the genuine Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown from his inventory. Since this was a battle for the dignity of his nation, he had elected to bring out the real thing, though he wasn’t certain about revealing it until now. 

The staff took the form of seven curling snakes, each holding a different colored gem in its mouth. Usually, he would deactivate the staff’s aura in public, but not this time. Red lighting jolted from its form and agonized human faces occasionally appeared from its surface. They were so detailed that one could practically hear them wailing. 

“Despair at my power!” Ainz activated five of the gems at once. “Summon Primal Air Elemental! Summon Primal Earth Elemental! Summon Primal Fire Elemental! Summon Primal Star Elemental! Summon Primal Water Elemental!”

One by one, gargantuan constructs of the elements appeared, but what really hit the situation home to the audience and King Decem was the Primal Earth Elemental Ainz summoned. Not only was it too similar in appearance to Behemoth to not notice they were the same type of creature, but the one Ainz summoned looked noticeably larger and stronger. 

In addition to that, he had summoned four other beings of equivalent power, and that was after activating only five out of seven gems on the staff. 

Ainz Ooal Gown hit every observer over the head with the sheer level of his power. 

“Th-this can’t be,” Decem stammered. “This is some kind of trick! They only look strong! Go, Behemoth! Tear those imitations apart!”

Behemoth roared and ran toward the other earth elemental. They locked limbs and grappled each other, entering into a sumo-like wrestling match. But within moments, Behemoth began to get pushed back, and deep fissures formed all over its body. 

“Impossible…” Decem stared. He trembled as Behemoth’s body slowly broke. And then, the four other elementals swarmed upon its staggering figure and tore it to pieces. He felt his connection to his summon snap within seconds. 

“This can’t be. It—it’s not your power! It’s that staff—”

“I made this staff,” Ainz declared, slamming its base into the floor of the arena with a loud clang, “with my own years and effort.” 

And with the tireless work of the entire guild, he thought with nostalgia. 

Rage for his stolen lover soon filled his heart again, however, unquenched no matter how many times his emotions tried to stabilize. 

“I… I surrender,” Decem declared, pulling looks of shock, disdain… and some even sympathy from the audience. But what could he do? His entire build was based around being able to control an elemental summon more powerful than himself. Once Behemoth was defeated, he didn’t have any other tricks remotely as powerful. 

“Have you no shame?” Ainz tilted his chin up and gazed at the elf king in fury and disdain. “Was this not originally a fight to the death? You haven’t even been injured yet and you dare to surrender?”

Ainz pointed his staff, and the primal fire elemental rushed toward the panicking elf. 

“N-no! Please! I surrender! Mercy! AHHHH! IT BURNS!”

Ainz amplified his voice to speak over the sound of burning flesh and screaming. “Decem Hougan, the Kingdom of Elves that you’ve been mismanaging now belongs to me. I’ll accept your surrender and spare your life, but mercy is out of the question! You will suffer until I have my husband back!” He thumped his staff for emphasis.

The Sorcerer King’s fury chilled every observer to the bone, except for Decem, whose bones were cracking from the heat. Before he could succumb to death, Ainz sent the primal water elemental to extinguish him. High as his level was, Decem wasn’t dead yet, despite looking like a burnt corpse. Ainz’s voice rolled low and black over the arena. 

“Only once you have earned my mercy may you die.”

He scooped the sizzling pile of garbage up by what remained of his hair and chucked him all the way up to the overlooking bridges, high in the trees. Albedo made sure her knuckles jammed into the elf trash’s left kidney when she caught him. The other onlookers stared at the crumbling figure, once so arrogant, in shock and horror. All except for the delegation from the Theocracy, and especially their old pope, who outright laughed at his long-time enemy’s suffering. 

The twins glared at the creature with malice, eliciting a weak whine from it.

“Find him,” Ainz ordered with finality.

“It will be done, lord Ainz,” Albedo bowed, and began frantically sending messages. 

Ainz nodded and turned his gaze to the rest of the audience. While maintaining eye contact, he pointed a finger at his five summoned elementals. “Maximize Magic: Reality Slash.”

A wave of jet black darkness, tearing through space, slashed all five of the primal elementals in two at the waist. They exploded in various bursts of elemental energy and disappeared. Five beings of immense power, five times the might of the elf king, and Ainz eradicated them all instantly with a single spell. The threat was unspoken, but palpable.

“I want my husband back.”

***

Jircniv slowly stirred to an awakened state. He felt groggy and sore—the ride here had been quite rough. 

After “Riku Aganeia” teleported them both out of reach of Cocytus, they jumped through space several more times, dizzying the human’s senses. It was disorienting, and Jir had no way of orienting himself to figure out where they were going. The last teleport he remembered left them high in the sky, where the air was thin, and the sudden change in pressure forced the human to lose consciousness. But he caught sight of an unmistakable landmark before he did: an enormous structure, floating in the sky. 

It was Eryuentiu, no doubt about it: the former citadel of the Eight Greed Kings. A mythical place still barring most from entry long after its masters’ demise. It was rumored that the Thirteen Heroes had obtained their magic items from this place. 

Upon waking, Jircniv suspected, astonishingly, that he might be inside that mythical flying castle.

Impossible… was Riku Aganeia not a pseudonym?

It was the name of one of the Thirteen Heroes who lived two hundred years ago, which was why Jircniv had written it off so readily. But if he had been kidnapped by the real deal—

Then Riku Aganeia isn’t human. 

That wouldn’t be so hard to believe. It was rumored that there were more than thirteen heroes fighting the evil gods two hundred years ago, but only their human members remained documented in human lands. Riku could have simply been mistaken for a human back then. 

There were plenty more implications to consider, but first, Jircniv had to confirm his surroundings. He forced his eyes open, shielded them from the light, and slowly sat up. Beneath his hand, he felt a thick woolen blanket, but also something hard underneath it, like a wooden board instead of a mattress. His sense of balance was slightly off, and he confirmed that his magic items had all been removed, every one of them. Downfall of Castle and Country had been replaced by a simple white linen tunic, clumsily torn in the back to accommodate his wings. A pair of ordinary leather sandals were placed beside him. That was all he had to wear since everything on his person had been enchanted in some way.

Well, that meant that a good portion of this heavy sensation was just from his lack of strengthening items, not that he was particularly injured. That was… better than it could have been.

As Jir’s amethyst eyes adjusted to the light, he lowered his arm and took a look around him. His eyes widened. 

First, the room around him. It was made of polished white marble, with thick and tall pillars holding up a vaulted ceiling. The domed roof was made of glass, letting an abundance of sunlight stream through. Everything was massively oversized, as if it was made for giants. But it was largely barren. 

Jir himself was inside of a cage within this enormous room. His prison had a circular base, made of a dense, dark metal, but covered by a thick woolen blanket and some pillows for comfort. There was enough room for two of him to lay down in a line, and it was tall enough to accomodate three of him. Vertical bars rose up from the circular base, meeting in a domed top. 

For all the world, it looked like a giant bird cage. 

Unless I’ve been shrunken down for easier handling? 

But he dismissed that notion after examining the textiles around him and the marbling on the nearby floor and pillars.

Jir gritted his teeth and stood up, glad he hadn’t been satisfied with being able to move freely only when he had the help of magic items. He wasn’t helpless now thanks to that perfectionism. 

And in fact… Jir looked down at his sturdy palms, making tight fists with them. He recalled that he’d been able to deal a clumsy blow to the inhuman Riku with nothing but his own brute strength. It might come in handy again, so I’ll keep it in mind. 

He walked around and examined the inside of his cage. The only potential weak point he saw was the door, which was sealed by a padlock the size of his head, halfway up the structure. Jir reached one arm up to help measure the distance. If he could jump about half his height, he could reach it. 

With a bitter smile, he shook his head. For all his body’s strength, he absolutely couldn’t jump with it—not unaided, at least. 

On the other hand, climbing might be more possible. But that wasn’t the first thing he tried. No, first was to see if his wings could put their pointless weight to use once more and bend metal again. So he tried striking at the bars of his cage with them. But either this material was sturdier than Riku’s armor, or the lack of magic items made that much of a difference—possibly both. The bars didn’t so much as dent, whereas Jir doubled over in pain, convinced he’d somehow bruised a body part made of solid metal. 

So deforming the bars seemed impossible. He turned his attention to the padlock again. He was strong enough to lift himself with both hands, but not with one, so his attempt at climbing the bars failed. 

Dammit, Jir cursed to himself and ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep breath and considered his situation again. 

I’ve been kidnapped by one of the Thirteen Heroes and brought to Eryuentiu. I’m nothing but bait to lure Ainz with.

This physical helplessness was frustrating, but it wasn’t new. Strength had never been Jircniv’s weapon of choice, nor was it his sharpest one. 

I’m still valuable as a hostage until the moment Ainz arrives, so instead of prioritizing my escape, I should be prioritizing Riku’s defeat. That means I need to warn Ainz not to rush over here and gather as much information as I can to assure his victory.

Jir assessed his mana pool and determined that it was as full as it could be without his amethyst earrings augmenting it. He knelt down and clasped his hands, and hoped he had enough mana to reach Ainz from here. 

Considering how many prayers he was hearing, hoping for his safety and pleading to find him even a moment sooner, Cocytus had already spread word about what happened. 

“Momonga,” Jir prayed, and he felt his mana emptying by the bucketload. There was a vast distance between them, “Eryuentiu. Caution.”

He wanted to say more. There was too much information that was of vital importance, but his limited mana pool couldn’t sustain more than a few words at this distance. 

He heard a prayer in return right away, Ainz’s voice was relieved, then boiling with fury, and then utterly calm again.

“Thankfully you’re alive. The full might of Nazarick is on its way to save you and destroy Riku Aganeia… But because it’s obviously a trap, we’ll approach stealthily and gather information first. Your skills will be essential for that, Jir. Hang in there.”

Jir felt his body blooming with indelible relief, and then his strength left his body. Lack of mana made him unsteady and lethargic, so he cozied up in his blanket and pulled a pillow close to his chest. 

He spent some time like that, but one of his few pillows turning to gold roused him and reminded him that he had important work to do, despite his fatigue.

Jir sat up and set about making his hair and feathers as neat as he could with only his hands to work with. 

This wasn’t the first time he had been dragged into the lair of an all-powerful monster. Beauty was a more powerful weapon than one would expect in a situation like this. 

I don’t care what he is inside of that armor, or if he’s nothing but a living mass of metal—If he lives in a lonely and secluded place like this, I’ll charm him faster than you can say ‘Emperor’.

Chapter Text

King Zanac gritted his teeth and suppressed a chill. He’d been escorted to the same area as the rest of the foreign leaders to witness the fight between Ainz and the Elf King, so he was subjected to the same show of force as the rest of them once it was over. 

It was obvious why Ainz was directing hostility their way: he suspected their involvement. “If any of you know anything, spit it out or else,” more or less. 

Some of those gathered surely wondered if this was real though. It could be some kind of political stunt or crisis exercise, such as when the Sorcerer King “died” fighting Jaldabaoth in the Holy Kingdom. But back then, the Sorcerous Kingdom had been shockingly calm and composed, continuing to operate as usual, whereas now, the tension was palpable. 

Most everyone seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time: some madman genuinely must have kidnapped King Consort El Nix. 

Zanac promptly found himself swarmed by terrified nobles and statesmen. They all spoke at once and grabbed at his robes, abandoning decorum, pleading with him that they didn’t know anything about the abduction. They hoped to leverage his position to assert their own innocence. 

Zanac wished he could just be happy about it. After all, this showed what a good decision it was to come under the Sorcerer King—even as a vassal, he obviously had more political power than his peers or they wouldn’t be pleading for his attention like this. But Jircniv had been taken, so he felt nothing but contempt and suspicion toward his peers. 

Through the use of flight magic, Ainz Ooal Gown ascended to the viewing bridges to rejoin with his subordinates, and suddenly, everyone was on their best behavior again, keeping a gentle distance with the undead’s vassal king and maintaining polite silence. 

“King Zanac,” Ainz greeted him grimly. 

Zanac thought the red flames burning in his eye sockets seemed a little dark and agitated, but his voice was level as usual. Without Jir to translate, he had close to no way of correctly interpreting the undead’s expressions. 

“Your majesty the Sorcerer King,” Zanac forced himself to reply despite the heavy atmosphere and bowed. 

The Sorcerer King’s eyes burned brighter and drifted to examine the other panicked humans.  

“Are you acquainted with those people behind you?”

Zanac’s instincts were telling him that the opposing ruler’s mood could swing drastically depending on what followed.

“Not intimately, your majesty,” Zanac replied. He then looked up and held a hand to his breast, speaking sincerely, “You intend to interrogate the people present, don’t you? Please allow me to help; Jir is like a brother to me, and I learned a trick or two during the civil war.”

“Oh? Are you certain you’re up to the task?” 

His voice shook Zanac’s bones in their sockets. He could feel the Sorcerer King measuring him, and it was unnerving. Yet the very fact that he was taking the time to consider the offer meant that he was open to receiving help in this situation. 

The young king swallowed his nervousness and cracked a small smile. “I would feel more assured with one of your attendants to guard me, your majesty, but yes. I’m certain I can convince everyone to speak with me.”

“Hm. Very well then,” Ainz nodded. “Mare, stay here and assist King Zanac. You have permission to use the Depiction of Nature and Society.”

“Y-yes, lord Ainz!” the little elf boy dressed in girl’s clothes came shyly to attention. 

Relieved, Zanac lowered his head respectfully. 

A huge black gate opened to whisk King Ainz, his daughter the prime minister, and the remaining dark elf twin away to somewhere else. Once they all vanished through the gate. Cute, strange little Mare fiddled around with a large scroll he’d been carrying this whole time, unrolling it with an adorable noise of childish effort. 

“U-um, so, s-sorry, but nobody is allowed to go anywhere until you’ve all been questioned to Lord Ainz’s satisfaction. P-please cooperate.”

Then the entire world changed around Zanac, and he was within a clearing in a strange mountain forest. The great elf trees were nowhere to be seen, and the cloudy sky felt strangely claustrophobic. 

“W-what?”

He swiveled his head around, trying to make sense of the situation. 

Mare tugged on his sleeve and said softly, “Th-this is a separate space created by an item.”

King Zanac blinked at the child. “Oh, I see.” Magic is incredible. Just like that, I’m in another world… Being married to the Sorcerer King, does brother Jir always have to deal with this sort of thing? No wonder he’s a little…

Well, it would be quite helpful though. Zanac had to make full use of the aid the Sorcerer King was offering him and get results. 

Zanac forced a smile onto his face and hoped it looked natural. “Thank you, Sir Mare.”

The boy blushed and lowered his head. Despite how meek he seemed, Zanac knew from Jir that this dark elf was a supremely powerful druid. Nothing was ever what it seemed where the Sorcerous Kingdom was concerned. 

Facing the other confused and anxious statesmen, Zanac decided to put some faith in his bodyguard and in Ainz’s name.

“I am King Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, King of Re-Estize and vassal to the Sorcerer King. I know this situation is rude to those of you who are innocent, but please bear with me for a few hours.” The corner of his mouth rose involuntarily, “Those of you who cannot sufficiently demonstrate your innocence will face far worse than me, after all.”

***

Immediately after dropping Decem’s charcoaled body (still pitifully alive) off with Neuronist, Ainz ordered Albedo to keep things under control in the Sorcerous Kingdom and left with Aura to visit Cocytus at the lake. Aura was a skilled tracker, and she summoned her beasts the moment they arrived. Without pausing to listen to the insectoid’s testimony, she hurried to find any remaining trace of the perpetrator. 

Ainz stayed on the cabin deck where he had arrived. He was not particularly calm and level-headed at the moment. Every time his emotional stabilization forced him to a state of calm, the knowledge that Jir had been kidnapped rose through his being like black bile and reignited his fury. 

But that wrath was best not vented upon his own people, so he was trying very hard to maintain a veneer of calm in front of Cocytus—something that usually required next to no effort in this undead body. 

While Ainz stood on the wooden deck facing the lake, Cocytus was on his hands and knees in the marshy soil. The cold from his body coated his immediate vicinity in frost—especially his quick-paced breathing and the icy fog it carried. 

A safe distance behind him, a group of lizardman guards were kneeling in the same posture. 

“There is no possible excuse for my failure,” Cocytus clacked his mandibles, nearly scooping up dirt. “I deserve a fate worse than death for allowing the Lord Apostle to be taken.”

Ainz opened his mouth and shut it before he could agree in reflexive anger. 

“Explain what happened,” he demanded.

Cocytus sensed the cold wrath in his master’s voice and clenched his fists. His carapaced fingertips crushed through the thin layer of ice. 

“I noticed the perimeter had been breached when I heard a voice speaking with the Lord Apostle from across the lake. None of our alarms had sounded and none of the guards nor myself saw him approach. The kidnapper was one person, wearing steel—no—platinum armor. He introduced himself as Riku Aganeia and spoke as if the Lord Apostle was a prisoner he was rescuing.

“I tried to apprehend him, but I didn’t even have the chance to enter combat: there was some kind of invisible barrier that I couldn’t break through. The Lord Apostle tried to escape to me instead, but he was chased. He wounded Aganeia with a lucky wing strike. It caved his helmet in, but that seemed to have no effect. Aganeia grabbed the Lord Apostle and the barrier disappeared, but he teleported them both away before I could stop them.

“Though I didn’t get to see him fight, the kidnapper had six flying melee weapons of different types and demonstrated impressive mobility and defense. I roughly estimate his level to be at least 60. 80 if he made that barrier with his own power.”

“Riku Aganeia…” Ainz spoke the name like it was covered in tar and toxin. “We will deal with your punishment another time, Cocytus. For now, our priority is to rescue my husband. But you will face punishment.”

“Yes, Lord Ainz! I will do everything in my power—no, I will go beyond my own limits to ensure he returns safely to your side!” 

Cocytus smacked his head onto the soil, mashing spiderweb cracks onto the fresh patch of ice his breath had formed. The blow seemed to shift something back into place inside his head. “My Lord? I remembered something.”

“Say it.”

“The Lord Apostle tried to use Downfall of Castle and Country, but Aganeia wasn’t affected. He even seemed to be familiar with the item.”

The fires in Ainz’s eyes glowed brighter at the unexpected lead. The name Riku Aganeia was likely a pseudonym, but there was a limited pool of people in the world who could know about Downfall of Castle and Country. 

He sent a message to Zanac, relaying the information Cocytus had shared about the perpetrator. “The kidnapper was familiar with Downfall of Castle and Country, a magic item resembling a white dress that the Slaine Theocracy gifted us at our wedding. It’s a powerful item, well guarded for many years. It shouldn’t be well known.”

Back in the illusory world, Zanac nodded. “Understood, your majesty, I’ll inquire about it. But, about the pseudonym the kidnapper used, I recognize it.”

Ainz froze. “You do?”

“Yes. It’s the same name as one of the thirteen heroes. Even his appearance matches what I heard. But they were active two hundred years ago and should be dead by now.”

Ainz lowered his chin and answered darkly, “Tell me everything you know about him.” 

While Jir was still unconscious and in captivity, the whole of Nazarick and its allies spared no effort in trying to find him. After he managed to make contact via his Divine Messenger skill, their pace only accelerated. The surrounding nations were left swimming in anxiety now that the Sorcerer King had been roused from his recent pacification. 

***

Jircniv sat in his cage with his back against the bars, gazing down the giant hall toward the only exit he could see from this angle. It appeared to lead outside, judging from the natural light shining through the open frame. 

Riku Aganeia, or whatever was really in control of that inhuman platinum armor, was a being without common sense indeed. Not only was he, former emperor and current consort to the most powerful king in the world, locked in a cage with the bare minimum amenities, but his captor was keeping him waiting. 

Jir leaned his head back and let out a breath. His hair and wings were silky smooth and glittering already. What else was there to do to pass the time besides overthink things again and again?

Jircniv ran a hand down one of his golden wings, confirming the neat and orderly feathers were without flaws. Then his hand found the cheap tunic he was dressed in. He had already put on the sandals that had been provided with it, since they were better than nothing, but…

Like coating fine jewelry with dust, he thought, dissatisfied. The cheap clothes just weren’t suitable—for his appearance or his station. 

He’s kept me waiting long enough that my mana has mostly recovered already from praying. So I might as well do something about it myself. 

Jircniv gripped his tunic in his hand and closed his eyes. “Midas . ”

He could feel warm light against his face and the texture under his hand changing. When he opened his eyes, the cheap tunic had been elevated into a noble garment made of white silk. It was still the same type of attire: a modest tunic, but the material, cut, and class were simply on another level. It was a far cry from wearing a World Item, but at least it was about as good as a mundane piece of attire could be. 

Jircniv went on to improve his sandals, the scratchy blanket he was sitting on, the remaining pillows, and finally the cage itself. 

Looking around, now his place of confinement could match the absolute lowest standard found in Nazarick. It was enough to finally feel a little comfortable. 

It also made him extremely homesick. 

The Apostle’s amethyst eyes flashed with impatience as Jircniv decided to feel more indignant than helpless. Where the hell was the lunatic who put him here? No progress could be made if he didn’t return. 

The former hero—whatever he really was—seemed convinced that Jircniv was being held against his will by the Sorcerer King. Although he was trapped in a cage now like an animal, stripped of all his belongings… Jir could imagine some inhuman thought process where all of that was somehow well-meaning. Perhaps coexistence with Riku Aganeia would be possible if he sufficiently explained things. It was an option he felt obligated to investigate before sending his husband into a life-or-death battle with the former hero, at least. 

Alternatively—if it was a simple choice—he would rather see the honeymoon-wrecker’s gore smeared across the marble walls and floor…

The emperor shook his head and made himself comfortable, lounging on his side, continuing to consider the various methods he could use to draw information from his captor and their pros and cons, with only the slowly changing light and the feeling of his mana regenerating to tell the time. When his stomach was starting to ache from hunger, he heard metallic, echoing footsteps approaching from down the hall, and a shadow broke the light. 

Riku Aganeia’s platinum armor and floating weapons came into view. He was holding a tray of simple food and water in his hands. His helmet had been hammered back into a proper shape. Jir judged that it didn’t look like the kind of material that could mend itself through magic, having seen several such pieces in Ainz’s collection, so it would seem that a manual repair job had been done. Perhaps that was what took so long.

All movement ceased when Riku noticed the state of the cage. 

“This…” 

He took some time to comprehend how different this scene was from when he’d left it. The ugly metal cage full of cheap necessities was now a gilded sanctuary, full of luxurious comforts. It was all glittering and polished and silky, and the captive inside was lounging like a king in his palace. 

It almost appeared as though the golden emperor’s decadence was infectious. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely wrong, either. 

Jir patiently observed his kidnapper through half-lidded eyes. He was in no hurry after waiting for hours already. 

“Would this be the Midas skill I’ve heard about?” Riku murmured. “It’s more impressive than I realized.”

It wasn’t a surprise that Aganeia had heard about Midas. Anyone who had heard of Jircniv had probably heard about that skill. It was valuable enough that he and Ainz both had originally wanted to keep it secret… but they simply couldn’t. Not when it came packaged with an uncontrollable curse that wantonly turned things into gold. 

If it weren’t for the words Aganeia had said during the abduction, Jir would have assumed he was being kidnapped either because of Midas or to use as a hostage against Ainz. 

“I was forced to substitute for your lacking hospitality,” Jir lifted his chin, his cheek propped lazily on his fist.

“You’re awake!” 

Riku sounded surprised. Was he just talking to himself earlier, asking rhetorical questions? 

Talking to himself out loud: a trait of lonely people.

Jir somewhat begrudgingly sat himself upright to make it obvious that he wasn’t resting. He propped his elbow on his knee and rested his cheek in his hand, “For some time now, in fact.”

“Then I apologize for that… I also apologize for the sudden change in altitude.”

Jir waved it off. Obviously, being knocked unconscious by someone trying to “rescue” him wasn’t okay, but there was too much else wrong with this situation to waste time on it. 

“You called yourself Riku Aganeia, and now we’re in what I estimate to be the flying city. So? Are you one of the thirteen heroes?” He got straight to the point.

“I was indeed called that way once upon a time.”

“You can’t be human then?”

Aganeia shrugged off the question and didn’t answer. But that was fine. It was a bait anyway. How much was the former hero willing to share about himself? Would he make up convenient falsehoods? He seemed to prefer lying by omission. 

Whatever he does say, I can hear with a bit more confidence then. But I’ll have to read between the gaps.

Jir tried another question. “Why am I in a cage?”

“For your safety.”

The Apostle frowned. “Specifically, safety from what?”

“Well…” Riku Aganeia set down the tray of simple food he’d brought at the edge of the cage, but Jircniv made no move to take it yet. “It would be dangerous for you to wander off alone. Eryuentiu is a hazardous place for an outsider. There are automated defenses and sheer drops—many of the districts are only accessible by flight…” 

Jircniv felt Aganeia’s gaze wander over to his wings, though his helmet barely moved. The Apostle held back an involuntary shiver. Feeling that way now, while he was certain he was fairly calm, it was strange to be so suddenly uncomfortable. Why did the armor’s gaze feel like when he was being magically spied on? Even Ainz wasn’t able to scry for him from here, so he had assumed the city was covered in magical defenses.

He’s using some magic or skill to see me, instead of his eyes?

Instantly, Jircniv thought of a dozen possible explanations, but he didn’t have enough information to draw a strict conclusion yet. The only thing he was now sure of was that there was indeed no body of flesh inside that armor—or at the very least no functioning eyes.

“You can’t fly on your own, can you?” Riku continued. “I assume you were using a magic item to do so last time. Despite having what appear to be natural wings, after all, you’re remarkably heavy for your size. To the extent that I’d be surprised if you possessed any inherent flight magic capable of—”

“Is this going anywhere?” Jir cut him off with a charming smile, laced with deadly warning.

“O-oh, uh—Of course I meant no offense.” The former hero stuttered, seeming surprisingly clumsy in this semi-casual setting. Jir thought it was fortunate that he didn’t appear to have his guard up around him though.

“I apologize,” Riku finally said. “More importantly, how are you feeling? I tried to be as gentle as I could when bringing you here, but obviously speed was of the essence. You aren’t injured?”

“I’m not,” Jir shook his head. “But that brings up an important point.” Jir didn’t think there were any eyes behind Riku’s faceplace to look into, but that notion was far from enough to weaken his gaze. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“… Kidnap, huh?” Riku’s mood immediately quieted in a gloomy way. “It might look like that, but, on my honor, I had no ill intentions.”

“You must have some intention though. So what is it? To rescue me from the wicked Ainz Ooal Gown and use me as bait to vanquish him?”

“I wouldn’t say that you’re bait. Rather, I’m protecting you until Ainz Ooal Gown has been eliminated.”

“And why does he need to be eliminated?”

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

Riku Aganeia and Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix stared at each other for a moment in silence. 

Jir shook his head. “Whatever you may find to be common sense is dictated by your personal experience. Although I can think of any number of possible explanations for your actions, you’re still nothing but a stranger to me, I can’t imagine which one is ‘obvious’ to you. They’re equally alien to me.”

The armor lowered its chin a fraction. “… Then should I take it that you’ve been a willing associate of the Sorcerer King?”

Jir smiled with the corner of his mouth, “Obviously.”

Riku stared for a minute longer before shaking his head. He stepped up to the cage and set down the tray of simple food he’d brought, then turned and began walking toward the exit. 

“The only two people in this whole floating city can’t so much as hold a conversation for a few minutes?” Jir called after him. “Are you not the philosophical type, or was my humor that displeasing?”

Riku stopped walking. “I merely realized that I cannot expect you to sympathize with my position. Upon a second thought, you are, after all, the bloody emperor; the man who requested Ainz Ooal Gown to commit the Katze Plains massacre.”

Jir smirked, “How dry… Indeed, that I am. No need to thank me.”

Aganeia turned to face him and asked darkly, “What?”

“You’re Ainz’s enemy, aren’t you? Then it’s good for you that you got to know how powerful he is early on.”

“Stop joking. Do you know how many lives were pointlessly lost because of that?!”

Jir stopped smiling. “About the same as there were every other year that the Kingdom and the Empire fought,” he said coldly. “You don’t seem to care for the number of lives lost so much as the circumstances of their deaths, which was admittedly horrifying. Riku Aganeia, you don’t care that I’m the bloody emperor, do you? You only care that I’m Ainz Ooal Gown’s ally. That’s how deep your enmity goes. But to my recollection, we haven’t done anything to directly harm you or your interests. So why are you targeting my husband?”

“You would not understand.”

Jir softened his gaze and spoke in a warm, sincere voice. “But I believe I have the right to know.”

“…” Jir could feel the former hero’s will to resist weakening. Eventually, he sighed and gave in. “Have you heard of ‘Players’ or ‘NPCs’?”

Jir nodded. “Yes.”

Riku stared at him. “… Really? So you know about them… I’m surprised.”

Jir shook his head slightly. He was well aware that plenty of people saw his marriage to Ainz in an insincere light… He would’ve done the same, in the past. 

Since Riku seemed to be doubting him, Jir slipped into his role as Apostle and offered a brief but insightful summary, “They’re beings from another world… two other worlds, technically, one natural and one artificial. The ‘players’ would descend upon the artificial world, living a second life there. The NPCs were artificial beings who were made to populate that artificial world and be its full-time residents.”

“So you do know about them,” Riku sounded somewhat impressed. “Perhaps in more detail than I do… So, is Ainz Ooal Gown a player or an NPC? He obviously isn’t native to this world.”

Aha, Jir had a flash of inspiration. It isn’t Ainz specifically that he’s opposing…

“I see. You want to prevent a second-coming of the Evil Deities and the Eight Greed Kings.”

Riku hesitated a moment and then nodded toward Jir’s understanding smile.

I was right! The insinuation was largely a stab in the dark from Jir; an attempt to connect several puzzle pieces that may not truly fit. Ainz had always been wary about meeting others like him in this world. Well, here Jir was, in the legendary floating city Eryuentiu, former home to the Eight Greed Kings who had once ruled the world, speaking with a former member of the legendary Thirteen Heroes who defeated the Evil Deities and who was very wary against players and NPCs. 

It was natural, if a bit presumptuous, to assume that those ancient groups were composed of similar beings themselves.

They did just appear out of nowhere one day.

Jir pushed down his speculations for now and put on an attentive expression to coax his “host” into elaborating. 

Riku folded his arms. “Specifically, my duty is to eliminate players and NPCs that abuse their power and destabilize this world. The Sorcerer King has committed one massacre already, and he’s swallowing up the surrounding nations as if he intends to conquer the whole world. He may just be one player, but with the addition of his subordinate NPCs, he might as well be a second coming of the Eight Greed Kings.”

Riku Aganeia sees a second coming of the Eight Greed Kings as a bad thing , Jircniv mused. 

From the perspective of humanity, it was often said that they would have gone extinct if not for the intervention of the Eight Greed Kings. They conquered the world with their godlike power and showed curious favoritism for the weak race called humans. On the other hand, they hunted some strong races to near extinction. The dragonlords, for instance. 

If he’s some kind of golem, undead, or other very long-lived race, then he might have a personal grudge against them. Or he could be from one of the strong races that were massacred. 

“So? Is he a player? And are there any more players in the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

“How curious. I happen to have the same question about you and the rest of the Thirteen Heroes,” Jir said. 

Riku’s answer was only silence until he remembered some of his discarded manners.

“… You should eat. I’ll come back in a few minutes and we can continue our talk.”

Jir chuckled as the suit of armor was turning again to leave. “Thank you for the food, but… am I expected to eat with no table, no chair, none of my poison-detection items, and no company? Do you know who you flew off with?”

The expressionless faceplate stared at him, and Jir smiled sweetly at it. 

“… You’re picky.”

“I’m sure I’m the most accommodating Emperor you’ll ever kidnap.”

“…” Riku sighed and took out a key. It floated into the air and quickly grew to enormous size, unlocking the cage. Riku bent down and picked up the tray of food again. “Come with me,” he said, sounding defeated. 

Jircniv smiled and rose to his feet with well-concealed effort.

Chapter Text

Whatever strange giant hall Jir had awoken in turned out to be an isolated floating structure, maybe something like a landing deck. It wasn’t connected to hardly any other district of the flying city except by air. He couldn’t resist peeking over the edge when they reached it. 

The ground was miles below and seemed to spin a little. Some thin cloudy wisps drifted between Eryuentiu and the dry desert below. Suddenly very aware of his flightless nature, Jircniv swallowed and tried not to let his acute anxiety show in his bearing. 

Before he knew it, Riku Aganeia was drifting ahead into the sky, and Jircniv felt as if someone had pinched his wings between two giant invisible fingers and hoisted him up by them. 

“Don’t struggle, or I might drop you.”

The Apostle’s thoughts spun, and he welcomed it as a distraction from the absolute nothing beneath his feet. 

Why lift me by my wings? What kind of skill or magic is his telekinesis? Everything I’ve ever seen him move this way happened to be made of metal, so is it a skill that lets him move metal with his thoughts? Thankfully it sounds like he might not be able to use it when there’s resistance, but now really isn’t the time to test it…

Jir felt solid stone underneath his sandals and held in an instinctive breath of relief.

As it turned out, not everywhere in the floating city was built for giants. Plenty of it was, but they also walked through many human-sized hallways. The city was vast, and it was a little hard to keep his sense of direction, but they seemed to be working their way closer to a castle spire near the center of the skyborne complex. 

In keeping pace with the former hero, the apostle’s feet were sore, his lower back ached, his legs were burning, and he was well past short-of-breath. Over an hour had passed since they’d started, and the city’s foundation had been at a steady incline for miles. The emperor finally reached the limits of his body, if not his will. 

“Stop,” Jir held up a hand and ordered, gasping, his hollow stomach cramping. He leaned against the limestone wall of what appeared to have once been a townhouse and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

How big is this empty ancient city?! 

It was closer to lunch than breakfast now. 

It didn’t help one bit that they were at a considerably higher altitude than the human was used to. His muscles were devouring so much oxygen now that his brain was starting to starve for it. He felt sick and dizzy, and his vision was spotted. 

Riku Aganeia paused and looked around to get their bearings, estimating how far they had come. “You have good stamina,” he praised. 

Jir smiled humorlessly, propping up his lightheaded skull with one hand. His body was too busy swallowing air for him to think about replying. Riku offered the tray he’d been carrying this entire time. 

“Water?”

The emperor shook his head without considering it. 

“You’re that sure there’s poison in it? You have my word that there isn’t.”

Jircniv shook his head emphatically. What kind of royalty simply took someone’s word that something wasn’t poisoned? The kind who gets poisoned someday. 

“You… first,” he provoked. Naturally, Riku shrugged and didn’t deign to eat or drink anything. His helmet was in the way of that and he certainly wasn’t inclined to show whatever was or wasn’t behind it. 

Jir forced his tired body to take another step up the hill, then suddenly he felt the pressure under his feet vanishing. Jir gasped. It was hard to breathe when he was being hoisted by his wings, but the lack of exertion gradually helped more than it hurt. He turned his brain off temporarily while Aganeia flew them both the rest of the way to the castle, much faster than they could move on foot. After a few minutes, they had arrived, and the apostle had gotten a much needed rest. 

“You should have just done that from the start,” he commented once his feet were on solid ground again. 

For a moment, Riku seemed like he was going to say something, but then he shook his head and thought better of it. 

“Come on. We’ve nearly reached the treasury.”

Just a few more twists and turns later, and they stood before a huge vault door. Riku took out a pair of twin keys and inserted them at opposite ends of the door. They parted to reveal… well, a treasury. 

Jir wasn’t particularly impressed. Gold was gold, it practically grew on trees… if that tree was named Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix. The magic items he could glimpse looked about on par with the gifts Ainz showered him with like candy; not low tier, but far from the best. Perhaps there was some better stuff sequestered in the back, or perhaps the thirteen heroes had already taken the best items for themselves.

Ainz would be happy to add this to his collection, though. Pandora’s Actor too. 

The most valuable thing there was likely Downfall of Castle and Country, folded nearly over a pile of Jir’s other things. 

“Don’t enter. There are traps,” Riku warned, striding over to the small hill of gold. Jir obliged, staying just outside the vault. 

“Which one is for poison detection?” 

“One of the rings,” Jircniv shrugged. “Gold, with a braided band and a pair of amethysts framing an opal.”

Riku found the ring in question shockingly quickly from the small hill of similar ones. The former hero turned the ring over in his fingers, taking a moment to examine—and possibly identify—it before turning to leave the vault. 

“While we’re here,” Jir stopped him, “I’d happily take the rest of my things back.”

Riku Aganeia pondered his guest longer than he’d pondered his ring. “… For now, just the essentials.”

Jir exhaled through his nose and nodded. Good enough, he accepted the compromise. 

“There should be a silver, wing-shaped pendant, for flight.”

Riku found it easily and pulled it from the pile. “The automated defenses will target you if you leave city bounds.”

Of course they will, Jircniv thought sardonically. 

He started listing off his essentials one by one, pausing between each to give the hero time to find and inspect them. 

“A golden bangle with strength enhancement magic… A pendant that prevents mental manipulation… A pair of amethyst earrings that were a gift from my stepson… A ring that contains a few keepsakes… My crown and my wedding ring, for god's sake… And if you wouldn’t mind—”

“I said the essentials,” Riku interrupted, both arms already laden with trinkets.

Jircniv smiled tightly and finished his sentence. “I was going to ask to have my clothes back.”

They stared at each other, momentarily at an impasse. 

“What you’re wearing now is plenty,” the hero objected, exiting the treasury only with what he had in hand and closing the door behind him. 

Jircniv accepted his items back and wore them one by one. He’s puppeting that armor , he thought with certainty. There’s nothing inside of it. The real “Riku Aganeia” is… probably a dragon or something. 

The Apostle had a lot of reasons to come to those conclusions. Firstly, the strange way the platinum armor sometimes moved, paired with his metal manipulation skill. Riku hesitated to use that skill on Jircniv… and was probably about to cite his weight as for why, but thought better of it. 

Jircniv snorted, A man his size, wearing platinum full plate, would have to weigh around four to five hundred pounds—hardly much lighter than I am. But that’s only if someone is inside it. 

Jircniv could tell by comparing their footfalls for the past while that Riku wasn’t so solidly built. Whether he was reducing his weight the whole while or simply didn't weigh that much in the first place: only one option paired cleanly with the rest of the information he had. 

He could have concluded that Riku was some kind of golem or living armor, but… He lived on a floating island, where half the structures were conveniently sized for a creature the size of a dragon; he had a good eye for treasure; and he disliked the Eight Greed Kings who were famous for slaying many dragonlords. The puppet master for the platinum armor being a dragon just made the most sense. 

The detail that finally convinced him was how Riku refused to return Downfall of Castle and Country. The hero was already familiar with the item and claimed it couldn’t affect him, so there shouldn’t be any reason to be wary of it. Greed was one explanation, as was wanting Jircniv to stay vulnerable to other world items—and that may indeed be part of it—but did it even make sense that someone could be immune to the effects of a World Item when they weren’t donning any themselves? It seemed more reasonable that the former hero had a true body lurking somewhere in this flying city that could be affected. 

After sorting out his items and his thoughts, Jircniv smiled brightly. “Well now, where’s the dining hall?”

***

Jir drained his glass of water, elegantly pacing himself thanks to the etiquette engraved into his body. Of all things, thirst had come the closest in recent memory to tempting him to break decorum. 

Humans could never truly be free of their weaknesses. 

After enjoying the simple luxury of seating his tired body at a table and slaking his thirst, the emperor turned his gaze toward the plate of food that had been offered to him. On it was… hardtack and beef jerky? 

What are these, travel rations?

“I’ll leave you to your meal then,” Riku said, turning to leave the grand and oh so empty dining hall. 

Jircniv raised a brow at him. “Why? Come sit. Don’t we have more to talk about?”

“You may feel uncomfortable,” he lamely excused. 

Jir closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve invited you, haven’t I? It would be rude to refuse.” His amaranthine eyes peered up at the puppet’s silvery faceplate. “You can imagine I’m quite accustomed to eating alone with company.”

The hero hesitated for a moment before taking a seat two places apart from the emperor. Jircniv turned his attention back to the meager assortment on his plate. 

… At least it’s food for a human.

He had worked up an appetite, so it didn’t look completely unpalatable. Feeling a touch awkward eating without silverware, the apostle took a tentative bite of the jerky. It was hard and flavorless at first, like chewing on boot leather. Gradually, hints of incongruous, overdone seasonings and ancient mitigated spoiling cursed his tongue. The consort quickly searched for a napkin, but the table wasn’t set. He wasn’t about to do something as unseemly as spit it out onto his hand or plate, so he shut his eyes and forced himself to swallow. 

Jircniv set down the beef jerky and picked up the hard tack instead. It was torturously dry, tasting of simple flour and salt… with a faint hint of mold. 

He politely hid his mouth behind his hand so his disgust wasn’t obvious and, regretfully, swallowed again. 

Jir took a deep breath through his nose and suppressed the uncomfortable squirming in his stomach, still utterly ravenous. 

For the first time in his life, he feared he might starve to death. 

At this point, Riku noticed his hesitation. “Is it that bad?” There was hesitation in his tone. “I’m sorry, but those are the only types of rations I had stocked here.”

The corner of Jir’s mouth twitched between a grimace and a smile. “For how many decades?” he asked. 

“…” the puppet stared at him. “I could hunt something for you to eat, but you’d have to wait until dinner and… my cooking skills leave something to be desired.”

Jircniv looked up with a slightly stressed smile. “I think I’ll need to request one more essential item: a ring that eliminates the need for food and water.”

Riku nodded and stood up. “I’ll go fetch it.”

The emperor stayed obediently in his seat while he waited, despite not really being asked to. If he wanted to be left to his own devices in the future, he couldn’t wander around the first time his captor left him alone and uncaged. 

Besides, his body was furious with him for pushing it so hard on an empty stomach. He needed the rest.

When Riku returned the item Jircniv had described to him, the gnawing hunger mercifully faded. 

“Thank you,” he nodded. “So, let’s talk.”

***

Tsaindorcus Vaision, the platinum dragonlord, nestled his enormous body comfortably in his chamber. His silvery eyes were shut, focused on his puppet’s perspective.

He projected his voice through the puppet, humming contemplatively. “What do you want to talk about?”

His untraceable gaze wandered to the crown atop the mortal’s head. A dragon’s nose could smell the value of treasure, and for some reason, that crown was worth a lot. It didn’t seem all that special when he appraised it though. 

Curious . Tsa lowered his gaze to the human’s porcelain face. But not as curious as him. 

Never before had a person possessed enough intrinsic monetary value to register as treasure to his senses. Tsa didn’t consider himself particularly greedy for a dragon, but he still had to regularly will himself not to get distracted by the rich fragrance. 

The human laced his fingers and shrugged, smiling amicably. “Well, you think my husband needs to die, and I disagree. I wonder if we can’t find some middle ground.”

Tsa’s focus returned to him easily as his mood firmed. “There is no middle ground to be had.”

Emperor El Nix shrugged, “He isn’t exactly alive now. Just don’t kill him and I’d say that counts.”

Back in his cavern, Tsaindorcus’s real body let out a sigh. His sense of humor is so dark. 

From such a bright and glittering man, you wouldn’t expect such a morbid and sarcastic sense of humor. 

The puppet shook its head. “It isn’t about whether he is alive, dead, or undead. His existence itself is a threat to this world.”

It was a bit of a shame. He had been so sure the player’s consort would be relieved to be rescued. Tsa had originally hoped to get information from the human to help him in his fight, but that had been a miscalculation. At least there was still some value in having his company though. It could get quiet in this big empty city. 

The emperor smiled sardonically. “Even you don’t believe that.”

Tsa’s brow furrowed and his puppet muttered, “What?”

“I think you know Ainz isn’t a threat to the world. You yourself said he appears to be conquering it, and I assure you he stewards his things better than anyone else bothers to. What are you really afraid of?”

Tsa frowned, his claws raking harmlessly against the marble floor as he shifted in discomfort. 

“Players are violent, arbitrary beings. Eventually, someone like Ainz Ooal Gown, who has claimed many innocent lives already, will bring irreversible harm to this world.”

“You’re speaking in circles,” the human shrugged. “Do you believe in your cause so little that you can’t articulate it properly? What exactly do you expect Ainz to do, who do you expect him to kill, and how exactly will it bring about an apocalypse?”

Tsa exhaled, his breath stirring a small gale in his nesting hall. The puppet said solemnly, “You could not possibly understand.”

El Nix raised a brow in a way that seemed rather indignant. He drummed his cleanly manicured fingertips on the table and opened his mouth. “Couldn’t I? But I think I could understand even if you turned out to be a dragonlord, afraid that my husband plans to finish off you and the rest of your kind.”

El Nix and the puppet were locked in a brief staring match as Tsa stopped focusing on controlling it. He lifted his long neck off his forelegs and stared into the middle distance with his silver eyes faintly trembling. “How…?” his real voice rumbled through the stone beneath him. 

After a moment, Tsa reestablished his link with the puppet. “How did you know?”

El Nix smiled like a predatory beast showing off its teeth, and his eyes glittered triumphantly. Tsa suddenly didn’t feel like he was facing a human anymore but another dragonlord instead.

“Do you feel like confiding in me a little now?”

Tsa frowned and, for reasons he himself didn’t fully understand, spoke. “The class system and tiered spell system are replacing the wild magic native to this world. Bloodthirsty players arrive one batch after another, wielding terrifyingly powerful world items. The world as it was continues to collapse and change into something unrecognizable. All of it is our fault and our duty to fix.” 

Jir rested his cheek on his palm, feeling a disturbing lack of rings on his fingers. He quite liked the class system and tiered spell system that lent their power equally to everyone. Weak races like humans benefited enormously from that compared to the ancient times when they had nothing. No dynasty lasted forever, so what did it matter if it ended to natural disasters, internal conflict, or foreign invaders? Riku Aganeia’s line of thinking was rutted in that of a long-lived race who mourned bygone eras Jircniv had never known. 

He was a relic who was failing to adapt. In the eyes of the bloody emperor, that was a sin. 

But Jircniv didn’t express those thoughts. “How is it your fault?” he asked gently. 

The puppet lowered its head and stared down at its lap. “… Because it was the Dragon Emperor who brought all of that here. He coveted the power of the world items, but what he called forth was far more than just that. The greedy fool lost control of his Wild Magic, and our entire world order was corrupted by the laws and people of another. I cannot allow more harm to be done.”

At this point in his life Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix was a master of reading people who lacked typical human facial expressions. And in Riku’s voice, he recognized a very specific sentiment. 

The burden and guilt of the son of a despot. He should know, he himself was one. 

The bloody emperor had not piled the imperial palace’s halls high with bodies lightly. A generation ago, the imperial family had been corrupt enough to give Re-Estize a run for its money. 

The Dragon Emperor had only one son: the Platinum Dragonlord, Tsaindorcus Vaision. He was the founder of the Argland Council States and one of the five dragon councilors that guided its policies. 

The Platinum Dragon Lord masqueraded as one of the thirteen heroes back in the day? Jir pondered. Momon inadvertently came to mind and he had to keep himself from facepalming. These lonely god-like figures are getting predictable. 

“I see,” Jir said consolingly. “I can sympathize with not getting along well with one’s father.”

The puppet hung its head and stared at its hands in its lap. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Tsa said mournfully. “… Hm?” Belatedly, he looked up at the emperor, aghast at the realization that his identity had been uncovered somehow. “You—how are you doing that?”

The human smiled innocently. “Pardon? What am I doing?”

Riku relaxed his posture somewhat and shook his head. “No, it’s just, you know too much about me.”

“I’m an apostle,” El Nix shrugged, looking proud and divine beneath the outer layer of humility and empathy. “My class is specialized in facilitating communication between powerful beings and the masses. But it helps that you and my husband have a lot in common.”

“Excuse me?” Tsa recoiled. “What could I have in common with that mass-murdering undead?”

The apostle smiled and began to preach, weaving in questions and assumptions as he went, and prying back layer after layer of the Riku Aganeia’s secrets. 

Ainz would have seen through manipulations of this level long ago, but Tsaindorcus Vaision was dangerously naive for his age.

Chapter Text

Nazarick had established a forward base in the desert south of the Elf Kingdom. It was well-hidden under the sand thanks to Mare’s druidic power, and shielded from all kinds of divination. They had been here for three days now, despite knowing exactly where Nazarick’s second-in-command was being held. Why? Because the Lord Apostle was feeding the Supreme One information. 

Being kidnapped certainly seemed like a time of great need, so nobody who had been fed the fake skill description was surprised that Divine Messenger was able to send messages out now. 

It was much easier on Jir’s limited mana supply now than when they were farther apart.

What was a surprising revelation to some was that his skill still worked even though both the sending and receiving locations were under heavy protections against similar magic. 

Ainz was seated in his makeshift throne room in this under-desert bunker, shrouded in shadows and looking for all the world like a god of death who was running out of patience. The only person in the room who was outwardly more disturbed was Climb. The poor boy had been sleeping poorly ever since his new ray of light had been stolen from him. His mentality couldn’t bear losing a second golden master. 

Looking at Climb reminded Ainz to take a figurative deep breath and calm down. 

Jir is enduring a lot right now for my sake. I can’t spoil his efforts. I have to be patient. 

“Ainz.”  

An angelic voice projected directly into the overlord’s mind, soothing his boiling anger like a salve. Ainz felt a flicker of peace deep within his being and prayed back eagerly. 

“I’m here, Jir.”

“I found his real body.”

Ainz stood up from his throne, and his eyes shone with ominous red light. Finally, they had the last bit of information they needed to launch an attack. 

***

Eryuentiu’s air defenses made it a true fortress. The forces of Nazarick had managed to find only one small gap that appeared just briefly once an hour. Had it not been for some structural damage the ancient city had come upon in some ancient battle, even that would not exist. 

But just one little entrance to exploit was all the forces of Nazarick needed. They estimated that three people could pass through before it closed, if they flew quickly enough. So after a lot of thought and some fierce competition, it was decided that Ainz, Albedo, and Cocytus would infiltrate. 

Not only were they three of great tomb’s strongest, they were also more desperate than anyone to succeed. 

Well, perhaps Climb was even more desperate, but he was too weak to be of any help, a fact he begrudgingly admitted. 

So Ainz, Albedo, and Cocytus infiltrated the flying city and navigated its unfamiliar streets with as much speed as caution. Ainz masked himself with the effects of Perfect Unknowable but stuck with the others for now. 

Soon, they were noticed, and a suit of platinum armor launched down from the sky, cutting off their path. 

“I don’t know how you got in here, but you will go no farther,” Riku stated. 

Cocytus drew weapons in all four of his hands, resolving to go all out from the start. “I will handle this. Albedo, go rescue the Lord Apostle.”

“Alright!” The armored succubus flapped her midnight black wings and flew off. Riku tried to intercept her with his flying weapons, but Cocytus rushed in and forced his opponent to focus only on him. 

Ainz also slipped away, completely undetected, but he went in a different direction, searching for the Platinum Dragonlord’s chamber. 

Albedo flew through the palace halls, clutching her hands together and praying with all her heart that her father be safe and that he hold on just a little longer. She flew with all her might but stopped abruptly when she noticed a door that was obviously nicer than the ones around it. Trying the handle, it was locked, but she wielded her halberd without hesitation and smashed it off its hinges. 

“Father—!” Albedo stopped in her tracks and abruptly spun around on her heels, facing away and bright red underneath her helmet. 

The king consort was fresh out of the bath, a towel around his waist and one atop his head, droplets of water still clinging to his porcelain skin. The emperor only opened his eyes a bit wider before recovering. “Well, you’re earlier than expected. What strong wings you have. I’m jealous.”

Albedo lowered her faceplate into her hands and trembled, flattered and embarrassed. Also considerably ashamed that she’d fallen back into old habits and found yet another precious father figure… very attractive. 

Jir finished roughly towel drying his hair and tossed that cloth aside, approaching his stepdaughter and circling around to hold her by the sides of her helmet. 

“Thank you for coming for me, my daughter,” he pulled her down gently and touched his forehead to hers. 

Instantly, Albedo’s confused feelings washed away, and she was almost overwhelmed by warm familial affection, so sweet she could want for nothing else. 

Through the fog, Albedo realized that her father was actively trying to calm her down, and she remembered his Evoker skill, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Thank the supreme ones, I didn’t blaspheme again. 

It was obvious to Albedo why her father was bathing at a time like this: he wanted to look his best when he finally reunited with her other father. There was no one in the world who could resist the Golden Emperor if he was trying to be desirable. 

Her only failure was lacking the patience to knock and not allowing him any time to change his bearing. 

“It brings me infinite joy to see you well, father,” Albedo said with tears welling in her eyes. 

Jir pulled his head back and nodded, smiling. “I need another few minutes to get ready. Would you guard the door?”

The ebony tank nodded fiercely and clenched her fist, “With my life!”

Then she stood quietly in the hallway for a brief span. The only being that came to disturb her was Cocytus. 

“Is it done?” Albedo asked sternly. 

Cocytus exhaled a breath of frigid air. “I broke it into so many pieces it would be faster to build a new one than to repair it.”

“Good,” the guardian overseer nodded. 

The door opened behind her and both guardians bowed immediately. They were greeted with the beautiful sight of their second-in-command, though not quite at full splendor yet. 

“Follow me,” Jir ordered, and the NPCs obediently obeyed. He led them through the palace until they stood before the doors of the treasury.

“Cocytus,” Jir commanded, “open it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The insectoid warrior stepped forward and slashed with his weapons. After a moment, a gust of wind erupted outward, and the heavily fortified doors collapsed into eight pieces. 

“The interior is trapped,” the Apostle cautioned. “Albedo, I hate to ask it, but… would you?”

She tank thumped her adamantine chest plate proudly. “Leave it to me, my lord.”

She marched boldly into the treasury and was promptly bombarded with dozens of various attack spells that would have reduced most people to a pile of soupy ash. Though she staggered slightly under the assault, she clenched her fists and roared, activating several defensive skills and pushing through it. Soon, she had recovered all of her lord’s things from inside and returned. Albedo kneeled and proudly presented the world item, Downfall of Castle and Country, to her respected father. 

“Think of a reward you would like later,” Jir said, resting his hand atop her bowed head. 

“Being of service is the greatest reward I could ever ask for, my lord,” she said stubbornly. 

The lord Apostle exhaled shortly through his nose. “If you have no ideas, then I will choose for you. Just like with Ainz, you have permission to call me father publicly.”

Albedo lifted her head reflexively and felt her bruised and burned body—mercifully saved from offending her lord father’s eyes by her armor—trembling. “Thank you, father. I will not shame you, I swear it.”

“I know,” Jir smiled. He put on a more serious face then and turned to Cocytus. “You defeated the puppet armor?”

“Yes, my lord,” the warrior kneeled. 

“Then you’ve done much to pardon yourself for failing to stop it the first time. Consider your failure redeemed. And as we’ve since learned that Wild Magic can only be resisted by power on the level of a World Item, you will be permitted to select one when we return to Nazarick to facilitate your duties going forward.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

“Now turn the other way,” Jir ordered and stripped his mundane tunic off.

***

On the other side of the castle, Ainz snuck into a large but secluded chamber, spying a massive dragon curled on the floor. Its scales gleamed platinum and its half-lidded eyes were like pools of silver moonlight. Those eyes somehow found him despite Perfect Unknowable, and widened, vertical pupils contracting. 

“It’s you,” Tsaindorcus rose from his languid posture, the spines along his back bristling, “Ainz Ooal Gown.”

Ainz dismissed his spell, since it was useless in front of the dragon’s truesight, and greeted the creature that had robbed him of his most precious person. 

“Tsaindorcus Vaision. Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

From its full impressive height, the Dragonlord glared down at the Overlord. “It’s when one causes their fate by attempting to avoid it. Is that how you intend to justify this?”

“Justify?” Ainz’s voice was dark and cold. “You think I still need justification?” 

He lowered his head and chuckled, then laughed, then pointed up at the dragon’s snout and shouted at him, “You, who stole my light from me, have the audacity to say I lack justification?!” Ainz roared, and the sheer aura of anger chilled Tsa to his bones, “Do you have any idea how many friends I have lost over the years?! How I slogged on with only their memory for longer than the time I had with them?! You forced me to reignite that dread! That despair!”

Ainz spread his arms wide and began casting his opening salvo, “Here is the fate you have brought upon yourself, hero ! I will slake my wrath with the blood of your kin and their bones will build my army! The indignities they will suffer shall be my warning to the rest of this world: if they dare to provoke my family there will be consequences!”

A fierce battle erupted of summons and spells, claws and dragon breath, and it shook the very structure as it hung in the sky. 

At some point, Ainz jumped back to avoid a tail swipe and chuckled darkly. 

“What’s so funny?” Tsa demanded, hurling another gout of breath that Ainz was forced to teleport away from. 

“Not much,” Ainz said, throwing up some wide area defensive magic with Wall of Skeleton. “Just that you allowed me to stall for this long without suspecting anything, and that you never questioned why I promised the death of your kin… but not your own.”

The Platinum Dragonlord heard footsteps from further up the hall and turned to see who was coming. His eyes widened. “El Nix?”

The golden emperor smiled at him. He must have broken into the treasury somehow because he was wearing his full raiment now, all of his magic items… and Downfall of Castle and Country. 

He looked utterly enchanting and smelled like the perfect crown jewel of any dragon’s treasure hoard.

But Tsa was not enchanted. His eyes widened and trembled in fear at the cold smile on the human’s lips. 

“… You wouldn’t,” he almost pleaded. 

“What’s wrong?” Jir smiled mirthlessly. “Aren’t you the one who was so afraid of wild magic and dragonlords disappearing from this world?” The Apostle placed both hands over his heart, “I’m going to fulfill your wish. Isn’t that a relief?”

“This isn’t mercy,” Tsa pulled his long neck back in horror. “Don’t act like overriding my will is mercy!”

The false smile vanished from the bloody emperor’s face, and his hands clenched tightly into fists. “And what about my will?” he answered darkly. “You kidnapped me while I was on my honeymoon, stripped me naked while I was unconscious—just to dress me in rags, caged me, and endlessly insulted my husband! I starved for hours, ate spoiled food, and had to pander to your heroic delusions!” 

Jir took a deep breath and lifted his chin, gazing down his nose at the oh-so-mighty dragon, beaten and bloodied. “I have never been so disrespected in my life. So from now on, Tsaindorcus Vaision,” the golden emperor raised his hand and declared, “ you will be my captive.”

“No!” Tsa heaved a mighty breath, but the wall of bones blocked it. 

And then, the magic of Downfall of Castle and Country hit him. All of Tsa’s resistance melted away like snow in spring. The dragonlord blinked his silvery eyes. He smiled slightly when his gaze focused on Jir. “… Master, what are my orders?”

Jir smiled and held Ainz’s arm. “First, compliment my husband.”

“He is powerful and regal.”

“Now me.”

“You are wise and beautiful.”

Jircniv smiled. “Now go and convince the Argland Council State to declare itself our ally. Don’t use violence unless absolutely necessary, and never let anyone know you’re under my control.”

“Understood, your majesty, lord El Nix. I’ll go take care of it straight away.”

With a few mighty flaps of his wings, Tsa left the chamber to do as he was bidden. 

Ainz murmured, “I’m relieved you didn’t order him to make them another vassal of ours.”

“Nobody would believe the Platinum Dragonlord was in his right mind if I ordered such a thing,” Jir chuckled. “Now enough of tha—”

Jir was interrupted by Ainz pulling him into a deep and affectionate hug. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the billowing black robes, wrapping his arms around Ainz in return and lavishing in the feeling of safety. 

“Sorry,” Ainz’s baritone voice rumbled from inside his ribcage. “What were you saying?”

Jir smiled and shook his head. “I was just going to ask for exactly this in a hundred more words.”

Ainz squeezed him tighter, gently, and Jir finally knew that his ordeal was over.

-The End-

Chapter Text

“Well… did you notice I never actually brought my concubines over to Nazarick, after they were vetted?”

Ainz blinked and held his chin. “Ah, come to think of it, that’s right.” He nodded. “Why not?”

The human’s violet eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “Well… I think they’re happier where they are. But the bigger reason is that I don’t want you to feel alienated.”

“No, no, please don’t worry about that,” Ainz insisted, waving his hands. “It’s simply a difference of species. We don’t necessarily have to be involved in whatever the other does for self-care.”

“Oh? What do you do for self-care, Momonga?”

“That would be…” Ainz trailed off absently. “Well, stress affects the tireless undead too. But most of the methods the living would use to unwind, like eating or sleeping, aren’t possible for me, so…”

“… So?” Jircniv encouraged him to go on. “If you were particularly stressed, what’s the best way for you to relax?”

The emperor’s eyes looked like they would peer right through Ainz’s lies if he dared to make any, so he clenched his fists and said matter-of-factly, “Killing.”

He expected to receive a look of judgment, distrust, or something along those lines, but Jircniv nodded calmly. “Yeah, that suits an undead.” He accepted it as simply as that. “I’m human, so for me, it would be sex.”

“R-right…?” Ainz murmured. 

“But neither of us have been doing either of those things lately, right?”

That… was true. 

At this point, Ainz had no idea what his husband was thinking or trying to say, so he simply nodded and kept listening. 

“But that’s easily fixed though,” Jircniv claimed with a whimsical shrug. “Anyway, that’s the third reason I wanted you in my room tonight. To discuss that issue… and maybe fix it. I think it’s important as a married couple.”

Ainz sighed, but he had promised to trust Jircniv, so he raised a hand and ushered him to continue. “I’m listening. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, the method depends on something I’m not really familiar with,” he admitted, holding his chin. “How intimate do you like to be with the people you kill?”

Ainz cocked his head, “… Intimate?”

“Would you rather kill someone you know well or a stranger?”

Still a bit baffled, Ainz shook his head, “I wouldn’t want to kill someone I care about.”

“Alright, I won’t offer to die for you then,” Jircniv winked playfully. 

Ainz’s jaw dropped open, since to him, it didn’t seem like Jircniv was joking. But he just continued as if nothing was wrong. 

“In that case, I think I can facilitate it.”

“How?” Ainz asked. 

Jircniv raised a finger and smiled confidently. “We just have to offer people something that’s worth dying for and wait for volunteers. Let’s say… we offer to grant them one wish if they agree to die at your hands. There will definitely be people who would take the offer.” 

He folded his arms and drummed his fingers. “To make it more palatable, we can promise to grant their wish in front of them, if it’s the type of wish where that’s possible. Maybe you could even let them choose how they die. What do you think?”

Ainz held his chin and hummed. To be honest, it sounded great. Not only would he get to kill people to relieve stress, but those people would be happy to die. He wanted to agree right away. 

“… There are already people who think my end goal is to slaughter my citizens. What would they think about this?”

“Probably something like “the people who sacrificed themselves to the Sorcerer King are crazy, desperate fools,” and “at the end of the day he’s an undead after all.” But, Momonga, they think that now anyway. So why not reassure your own citizens at least by framing it as something you’d only do with consent?”

“I see…” Ainz slowly nodded. “Well, if you can find anyone who’s willing to sell their life to me, I’ll consider it… But how were you planning to fix your side of the problem?”

The human smiled wryly. “Right, well… I need a partner; someone who I’m intimate with who’s willing to participate with me. I certainly used to keep concubines… but now I don’t want to sleep with anybody besides my husband.”

Ainz sighed again. “I don’t know what you’re misunderstanding. I’m completely a skeleton, so that just isn’t something I’m physiologically capable of.”

Jircniv scratched his head, “Right but I think you might have a limited view of what sex actually entails. Because there’s nothing about your physiology that would stop you from pleasuring someone else.”

Ainz froze stiff when he heard those words. “… There isn’t?”

Admittedly… he was a virgin. But, certain body parts were required for intimate activities, weren’t they?! 

He found he couldn’t even convincingly reassure himself. After all, he had never actually done the deed before… whereas Jircniv had an entire harem. It was obvious which of the two of them would know better. 

“You have hands,” the emperor pointed out. “You can do a lot with those.”

“… Would that count?”

“What do you mean count?” Jircniv frowned slightly. “I’m trying to enjoy myself, not make an heir.”

***

Jircniv found the notes from Pandora’s Actor and offered them to Ainz. “I got appraised today. Since I learned my first active skill, I thought I’d try it out.”

The overlord hummed in pleasant surprise and accepted the documents, taking a few minutes to read over them. 

“This is quite the specialized build,” he commented. “Even Demiurge doesn’t have this many social class levels.”

“Is that so?” 

Jircniv blinked. Being compared to the archfiend, he couldn’t help but compare his own Evoker class to the demon’s commanding voice. Would he be capable of controlling people with just words if he continued on this path?

Actually, wasn’t he already capable of that, just in not such a forceful way?

Ainz tapped at the document. “But what does “knowledge beyond your understanding” mean? You said you tried this skill once already, right?”

The Apostle nodded and held back a wince from his throbbing head. “I’m not sure. It might just be a skill used for learning things I don’t already know. But I think it’s a little more than that. When I used it last time, it was to answer Pandora’s Actor’s question about who or what Pandora was. As soon as I used the skill, I knew all about it—I understood it too. But once the skill ended, I forgot everything and had a splitting headache.”

Ainz approached his husband in a few swift steps and held him by the shoulders, “You were able to learn about Pandora through that skill?!”

“Yes?” Jircniv’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He tried recalling the event again and was met with only a dull throbbing. He could barely remember what he’d told Pandora’s Actor. “Something about unexpected troubles… and a box? I’m sorry, but that’s all I remember. Is it something important?”

Ainz realized what he was doing might be a little much and took his hands away, clearing his throat. “Rather than it being important, it just isn’t information you could learn in this world. Either that skill read my mind, since you're my Apostle, or…”

Ainz trailed off, and Jircniv swallowed. If he had received that information directly from the realm of the gods, then this skill was crazier than he thought. 

“… Let’s test it,” Ainz declared. “I can give you the mana you need, and you can write down however much you can before the skill ends. We’ll try asking something I don’t know the answer to.”

Jircniv saw a fervor in the undead’s red eyes, and he reminded himself that Ainz put a lot of value on the importance of information gathering. 

I’m not sleeping tonight, Jircniv realized, and he rearranged the rings on his fingers so that he wouldn’t have to. 

***

After a night of experimenting until both of them were on the verge of mana exhaustion, they had a rough ruleset figured out for how the Revelation skill worked.  

First, it needed a question as a prompt. And if Jircniv tried to ask it about something he already understood, it simply wouldn’t activate. Second, the information Jircniv received from the skill didn’t come from Ainz’s knowledge. They were able to learn things he didn’t know. Third, the questions had to have some relevance to Ainz and his interests, or to the people who worshiped Ainz and their interests. 

It was a skill designed to help a god and his followers understand each other, using the Apostle as a medium.

Ainz leaned weakly over their notes, the fire in his eye sockets somewhat dim. “… This is an amazing skill,” he stated. “You could probably even tell me… why the others left, and if they’re doing well.”

Jircniv groaned. He was seated “upright” on the opposite couch to Ainz, doubled over with his head between his knees and his fingers gripping his skull. He had already reached his limits in terms of pain tolerance, and he lifted his head just enough to glare openly at his inconsiderate husband. 

The undead felt a shiver of guilt run through his body, because of Jircniv’s Evoker class, and deliberately averted his gaze so the human couldn’t influence his emotions. 

Jircniv sneered at him. “If you dare ask me one more question tonight, you can go to the grave without knowing the answer.”

Then he winced and dropped his head back into its cradle. He was sweating, it hurt so badly. It was like there were countless grains of sand crunching behind his eyes. 

He preferred mana exhaustion. He preferred dancing with a broken leg. He preferred the kind of stress that produced hair loss and stomach ulcers. He preferred slaughtering his own family to take the throne. 

“I love you but I hate you,” Jircniv groaned. 

Unfortunately for Ainz, hearing Jircniv’s voice also counted as perceiving him, so Evoker hit him like a punch to the gut. 

***

“I wonder. Though our marriage contract does permit me some romantic freedom in order to produce an heir for the Empire, I haven’t exercised that freedom once since our engagement. This is an important time for us to bond one-on-one as a married couple.”

***

“I wonder why?” Jircniv smiled suggestively and held a finger to his lips. “You’ll find out if you try it, won’t you?”

Ainz felt somewhat regretful as he sighed. “You know that isn’t possible.”

Jircniv threw away his usual smile and stared at his undead husband flatly. “On the contrary, I know it is possible.”

“I don’t know what you’re misunderstanding, but—”

Ainz was cut off by a delicate hand wrapping around the collar of his ropes and pulling him down to see eye to eye with the human. 

“Who’s misunderstanding what here, I wonder? It’s actually easier for me that you don’t have living anatomy.” Jircniv raised a brow. “Or did you notice any men in my old harem?”

The emperor released his grip, and Ainz straightened back up, smoothing out his robes in a flustered manner. 

“Erm, well… No.” He felt somewhat awkward about the unspoken implications there. “But how would… I mean… In the first place, I can’t—”

Jircniv held a finger to his teeth to shush him. 

***

Jircniv stopped talking when they held a box out to him together and bowed. 

“My sincerest apologies,” Albedo said.

“And my deepest gratitude!” Demiurge beamed. 

The Apostle blinked and received the box. “Thank you,” he murmured, opening the lid. Inside, he saw a neatly folded surface of white fabric and gold embroidery, and his eyes widened. 

“It’s Downfall of Castle and Country,” Demiurge said proudly, standing up straight and adjusting his round glasses. “We couldn’t leave our Apostle without a suitable world item for protection, so we obtained this one that you expressed interest in as quickly as possible.”

“As requested, we compelled the Theocracy to formally gift it to us. They sent this note along with it,” Albedo stood up as well and passed him a sealed envelope. 

… It read as if Ainz had gone over personally and scared the fight out of the cardinals directly. There was a promise that vassalization would follow this gift, once they could reeducate the people. 

Looks like everyone was busy while I was away. He nodded, “I see.”

“And here’s the appraisal result from Pandora’s Actor,” Albedo handed over another sheet of paper, and he scanned that too. 

The Downfall of Castle and Country had the power to brainwash only one creature at a time, but that mind control would work no matter who or what the target was, could command them to do anything, even harm themselves, wouldn’t erase the controlled creature’s intelligence, and would persist even after the wearer’s death if not deliberately lifted. 

Only one at a time? That was slightly disappointing. Jircniv wondered if it was worth using that slot on Renner. After all, there was a chance he could convince her the old fashioned way that her revival was always part of the plan. He should give it a try, at least. If he failed, he would know, thanks to his Revelations. 

The item also had a restriction on who could equip it, but Demiurge and Albedo had handed it over to him, so clearly he must have met it. 

Jircniv read the words scrawled under requirements: [Can only be equipped by a ruinous beauty.]

***

White wings, feathers flecked with gold, and a ring of golden light.

The crowd was already breaking into a swarm of murmuring by the time Jircniv pulled back from the kiss and felt something was off. Sensing Ainz’s surprise and confusion convinced him he wasn’t imagining it. 

He was by far the most surprised to discover the wings on his back. 

“He turned into an Angel!” Near the back of the crowd, the Evangelist known as the Faceless One stood up and declared. “So that’s what happens if a mortal marries a god!”

The murmuring immediately got more intense after that. 

That would’ve been fairly easy to accept, honestly, but Jircniv knew it wasn’t true. The Crown of Solomon was still at full output, and that could only happen if the person using it was humanoid. Angels, no matter how pure they seemed, were heteromorphs. 

He was absolutely unwilling to be in the dark surrounded by important foreign figures, so he used Revelation on the spot in order to make sense of things. 

He couldn’t exactly pull out his journal like this, so he just whispered the results to Ainz. 

“Apparently I just mastered my Apostle class. This appearance is because of a skill. Make sure I check the details with Pandora’s Actor later, okay?”

Ainz nodded, and Jircniv returned to normal before he forgot how to do so. In a similar burst of light, his wings and halo disappeared. 

Then the headache hit. Ainz directed the guests toward the reception and secretly slipped his husband a potion. 

***

… Golden wings, huh? Is that my reward or my punishment for sleeping with a god?

Jircniv thought it was quite characteristic of his life for things to pendulum-swing from peaceful and happy to bizarre and burdensome in an instant. He recovered easily from the shock of gaining two new limbs and reaching a level well-outstripping prized human heroes, thanks to having dealt with so many unusual things in the past already. 

Leveling up even higher didn’t present many concerns for him to deal with. It meant he had a few more resources to work with and should be that much more careful when interacting with weaker people, but it was relegated to an afterthought compared to the complications wings presented him with. 

As someone who had enjoyed years of education in things like dance and etiquette, Jircniv was very aware of the minutiae of controlling his posture. Balance was a big part of it, but there was so much more too. How could he use the positioning of his wings to his advantage? What poses would work contrary to the impression he was trying to give? How would those details subconsciously influence winged races versus races without wings? The list of new concerns from a public figure’s perspective was endless. 

If his wings were ordinary, he could look forward to learning how to fly, as compensation for all the adjusting he was about to have to undergo, but the golden feathers meant they were more like anchors than sails. Each wing was extraordinarily heavy.

It’s not a total loss, Jircniv pondered. Since they’re made of gold, they’ll contribute to the strength of Golden Emperor’s influence and will always be on my person. And I’m sure wings could have a positive effect on Evoker if I learn how to carry myself with them. 

He struggled to think up enough benefits to offset all the work now waiting for him. As he felt his spirits dropping, he noticed the supreme one looking at him like a kicked puppy. 

Jircniv let out a breath and put a smile on. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

***

For the next month, Jircniv went through intensive training to be able to function with wings. He learned all sorts of things from Demiurge, Albedo, and other winged residents of Nazarick. There were actually a lot of questions they couldn’t answer for him, as none of them had ever been through formal etiquette training. Jircniv used his own prior knowledge to fill in as many gaps as he could. When in doubt, practicing in front of a mirror was always a valid option. 

The focus of his training was definitely on practical details, and the strength needed to actually realize those was supplied by magic items. Jircniv would equip his fatigue mitigating ring during the day and sleep beside Ainz with the ceremony rings at night, in order to build up strength and reduce his reliance on those items as quickly as possible. 

He wasn’t able to make any public appearances during that whole time, but at least he could still act as Ainz’s Apostle within Nazarick and advise him on political policy for the Sorcerous Kingdom. 

Though after that month, his hard work had paid off. Even without using any items to augment his strength, he could walk slowly, and with an item or two to help, he was no less graceful than before he’d grown wings. 

***

Climb’s gaze drifted away from the golden wings, tracing the beautiful lines of the Lord Apostle’s formal uniform of sorts, an elegant white dress called the Downfall of Castle and Country. He glimpsed well-trained muscles rolling under its silk surface, powering the seemingly effortless minor motions. 

I really don’t have any talent. This was something that the boy had long since internalized, but he was reminded of it often. For instance, his master wasn’t trained for combat, but he had developed a build as fit and strong as Brain’s. It was a different type of build, of course. Brain was built for swordsmanship, whereas the Apostle’s muscles were for load-bearing and elegant things like dance. It made for a hardy yet graceful figure.

Climb flushed and brought his gaze straight ahead again. 

Admiring him is one thing, but a servant shouldn’t stare, he chastised himself. 

Brain, standing a few paces to the side, glanced at Climb and smiled wryly. The swordsman leaned closer and whispered, “You know he’s married, right?”

“Wha—?!” Climb stared at his mentor and friend, agape. 

***

The Android made a small show of clapping and rubbing her hands together before grabbing tightly onto his chair, pulling it back from the table with faintly audible effort, and wiping nonexistent sweat from her forehead when she was done.

Jir smiled dangerously at her antics, to which she saluted and voiced, “Mission accomplished, my lord.”

Jir shook his head and stood up “I have a few notes,” he declared. “First:” 

He casually peeled his golden star sticker off of the Android’s cheek, pressing it down again on top of her lips. 

“Mm mhm,” Shizu played along readily. Of course, a mere sticker wouldn’t be able to keep a combat maid’s mouth shut. 

Jircniv half-folded his arms and nodded. “Better.”

***

“Your majesty, are you feeling alright?” Nimble asked cautiously. 

“I’m fine,” he waved his free hand casually over his shoulder. “A couple of skills I learned these past months just had some bad synergy.”

The Fierce Gale furrowed his brow, wondering if such a phenomenon even existed.

“What skills?” Baziwood asked. 

As Jircniv opened his mouth to answer, he felt Midas activating. Gold crept rapidly up and down the handrail like frost from where he was touching it. He took his hand off as a subconscious reaction, not that that halted the process. Within a minute or two, the whole wooden rail would be solid gold. He smiled wryly over his shoulder at the two knights, who stared with wide eyes.

There was no way they hadn’t heard rumors about this skill of his. It had become famous pretty much the moment the curse first triggered in public. But seeing it with their own eyes was entirely different. The Golden Emperor wiggled his fingers at them playfully. 

“That’s serendipitous,” he chuckled. “This is one of them.”

“W-was that Midas?” Baziwood gasped, peering closely at the golden handrail but obviously wary of touching it while the aureate frost was spreading. 

“That’s what Midas’s curse looks like,” Jircniv shrugged, resuming his ascent. “I can’t actually turn things into gold whenever I want. The skill itself works quite differently.” 

Baziwood gingerly tapped the metal and made an “o” shape with his mouth. “Like what?” he asked. 

Jircniv paused his ascent again, secretly grateful to have an excuse to take a short break. “Do you have any trinkets on you?”

The Lightning Bolt reached behind his breastplate and took out a locket. When he opened it, both sides came apart and a painting unfolded like a scroll. Each of his wives was depicted side-by side. He grinned at the sight of them and proudly showed off the locket. 

“Does this count?”

Jircniv smiled and held his hand out. After hesitating briefly, Baziwood closed the locket and set it in his hand. Jircniv activated Midas. 

Since the original locket wasn’t too large or expensive, it didn’t drain much of his mana to transmute it. The surface of the ornament turned from silver to mithril, and the engraved carvings became a little more exquisite. Jircniv handed it back to the knight. 

“Like that.”

“I-I-is this mithril?!” The knight held the little locket like it was a treasure, and quickly opened it to make sure the portraits inside were unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief and hung the trinket around his neck again. 

“Can you transmute any metal with it?” Nimble guessed. 

“No, it just raises the value of things, following the path of least resistance. The only thing I can reliably turn into gold is myself, and that’s more of a temporary defensive measure.”

With some reluctance, the Apostle resumed his climb. He couldn’t waste too much time here if he intended to watch his husband in the arena. And he did. 

The distracting voices in his head weren’t making it any easier. 

‘May the Lord Apostle shed more feathers.’

The Apostle’s brow twitched slightly. Is that a prayer or a curse, Shalltear?

“So which skill is…” Nimble started to follow through on the core of their conversation when he cut himself off, staring at the glittering golden pinions sprouting from his lord’s back. His face gradually showed realization, then understanding, and then it went pale. “I-I thought those wings were some kind of magic item,” he stammered. “Your majesty, are you… not human anymore?”

“Huh? What? Wait, those are real?” Baziwood looked between the two of them, struggling to keep up with the conversation. 

Jircniv glanced back at them and shrugged. While steadily continuing his ascent, he tried to keep his breathing steady and answered, “I’m still human. One of the items I have equipped can only be used by a human, so that’s for certain. I grew wings because of a skill called Divine Messenger. They weren’t supposed to be made of gold, but that’s what happened.”

“Oh,” Baziwood nodded. “Well that’s fine then. I was worried for a second that the Sorcerer King forced you to change your race or something. But what does any of that have to do with you climbing stairs like an old person?”

“They’re heavy.”

“H…huh.” The simple-minded knight blinked, then he put a stupid grin on his face. “Do you want me to carry you, your majesty?”

Jircniv stopped his feet. He felt like his legs were made of jelly after climbing about ten out of fifteen stories up. It was never good for a ruler to look weak, but it looked better to let himself be carried than to collapse and fall down the stairs. “Yes, I do.”

Baziwood just stared with a dumb face for a second, glancing at Nimble to check and make sure he wasn’t hearing things. Their emperor asking for help was almost unheard of. 

But it was a knight’s job to rise to the occasion! Baziwood fixed his expression and approached his lord with a serious face. “Then, please excuse me, your majesty.”

Baziwood crouched down to scoop Jircniv up into a Princess carry, like he would do with his wives from time to time. He quickly encountered much more resistance than he expected, having to reposition his legs for more stability and put in some actual effort. 

He could lift the apostle. Baziwood hadn’t slouched off in his training, but even for one of the strongest warriors in the empire, it wasn’t easy. 

Feeling considerable strain, Baziwood grunted, “Y-your majesty, how much do you weigh?!”

“Less than your salary,” Jircniv chided him.

The Golden Emperor slipped a bangle off his wrist and put it on Baziwood. Instantly, the imperial knight felt his strength swelling, and the task issued to him came with much more ease. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed and started climbing the steps. “Was that a magic item? Can I keep it?”

“Yes it is, and no, you can’t,” Jircniv chuckled, peeking at the golden shine on his left ring finger and smiling slightly. “Everything I’m wearing is a magic item, you know?”

“Seriously?! That’s the Sorcerer King for you, I guess.” The brazen knight chewed his lower lip, “Hey, your majesty, were you serious before, in the carriage?”

“When I said I love him?”

“Yeah, that.”

Jircniv took in his knights’ curious and distressed faces. Nimble had gone quiet for a little while now, but he was clearly listening attentively. 

“It must be hard to understand,” he gave a long exhale, though his breathing had already stabilized. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Your majesty, how?” Nimble finally spoke up again. “After everything he put you through? Just a year ago, in this very arena, he made a fool of our martial lord, ruined your alliance with the Theocracy, and forced you to become his vassal! You suffered so much because of his schemes! He sent a dragon and those dark elf children to your palace. They killed Nazami!”

Jircniv nodded. He couldn’t say anything to deny the damage Ainz Ooal Gown had done to him. He could tell that the death of one of his four imperial knights was still a fresh wound for the other three.

“Right. He did all of those things and more. I really thought I was being toyed with for his amusement, so I couldn’t understand why he would ask me to marry him. But in the end, it was all just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Nimble bristled. “How can you take all of that and reduce it to a misunderstanding ?”

“Because that’s what it was,” Jircniv smiled at him. “How would you two make friends with someone?”

Nimble scrunched his brow and frowned, “I don’t think I like what you’re implying, your majesty.”

Baziwood hummed and answered simply, “I would talk to them, be nice, and try to get to know what they like, right?”

Jircniv nodded. “Exactly. That’s how you make friends. So let’s look at what happened from a different perspective. Ainz talked to me, spoke with polite language, and showed me how skilled he could be at politics. He engaged with our local culture by fighting in the Arena without his magic. He obliged me very literally when I asked him to fight on our side at the Katze plains and use his strongest spell. That sums up about half of what happened and shows you one of the two reasons he bothered to do any of it in the first place. He was trying to be friendly with me.”

Nimble grimaced. “That’s one sick way of showing it. I don’t think I would want to be friends with an undead if that’s how they go about it.”

“What about the second half and the second reason?” Baziwood asked. 

“Ah. He made my closest confidant abandon me, deliberately misinterpreted my requests to cause chaos, and forced the empire to become enemies to the rest of humanity.”

“See, in no world should a friend do anything like that!” Nimble grumbled. 

Jircniv smiled bitterly. “If everything else was to show that he was trying to understand my perspective, the rest of that madness was intended to help me understand his perspective.”

They reached the box seats, and Baziwood set the emperor down. Without one of his strength-increasing magic items, and having climbed ten grueling stories of stairs just a minute ago, his legs buckled immediately, and he collapsed to his knees on the floor. 

“Your majesty!” they both exclaimed in worry. 

“I’m fine,” he raised a hand to quiet them. “My legs are just a bit tired from taking the stairs. I’ll be used to it in a few more months. Baziwood, my bracelet, please.”

The knight returned the magic item and the apostle managed to pull himself to his feet. He made his way over to the emperor’s seat and was relieved to see nothing had started down below yet. He sat down and made himself comfortable. 

“Where was I? Right, friendship. It might look like a really clumsy way of doing things, but it was the most sure method. There was no basis for him to trust that I was even capable of learning the perspectives he wanted to teach me. Indeed, if I wasn’t, the abuse really would have broken me. Fortunately I turned out to have a knack for it.”

“Your majesty, I’m not really sure what you’re talking about anymore,” Baziwood scratched his head. Nimble nodded, though Jir saw him sweating and pale and guessed that he at least had some idea where this conversation was going. 

“Ainz Ooal Gown is a god,” the Apostle declared. “A real one. He originates from a dimension far beyond ours. His people are capable of creating entire worlds, of creating life itself, and projecting themselves into those worlds as if they also belong there. When they get bored, they destroy those worlds to make way for new ones.”

Jircniv rested his chin in his hand, staring absently down at the arena. His husband’s entrance was announced, along with the topic of the day’s event. Of course, the announcer called out their emperor as well, so Jircniv stood and waved to the crowd for a moment. 

When he sat back down he continued in a low voice. “But Ainz is special. He became attached to his creations. He fell in love with the petty mortals he and his kindred created and in the game they lived. But over time, all the other gods abandoned him and that fantasy. His people even decided it was time to destroy the world he had grown so attached to. 

“So he cut off his connection to the realm of the gods and poured all of his divine power into preserving what mattered to him most. The Great Tomb of Nazarick and the strange beings inside of it are all that remains of a world that no longer exists. Ainz himself became more mortal… well, more undead, as his avatar became his only self. But he hasn’t changed. Out of all the gods ever to leave their names in this world, he, Ainz Ooal Gown, is the only one I’ve ever heard of who loved mortals enough to die for them. It’s impossible not to reciprocate affection that deep once it’s pointed at you.”

Nimble and Baziwood didn’t quite know what to say after that, so they just kept silent and watched the civilized slaughter happening below. 

***

There has to be some way to get out of this cage, Jircniv thought. 

He examined his woolen blanket. It could make for a good rope, but he needed something weighted on one end in order to possibly throw it high enough to reach the padlock. 

As he was thinking that, Jir spotted the pillow that had turned to gold while he was holding it. It was narrower in the middle, heavy but not too big. He tied one end of his blanket around it. 

Before trying to throw it like an improvised grappling hook, Jir worried to himself, Can I climb a rope? After considering it for a moment, he clicked his tongue in frustration. But he wasn’t willing to give up on the idea so soon, so he went down the blanket tying knots at regular intervals. Then he threw the pillow. 

The first several times, it came in at the wrong angle and bounced off the bars. After a few minutes of practice, he got the hang of it and managed to loop the pillow around the padlock. Jir gave the rope a probing tug, seeing that the knots were holding fairly well. 

The knots gave him little places to rest as he climbed, which was much needed since his muscles were screaming at him within a few measures of ascension. 

Jamming his foot into the fabric folds above one knot, Jir hooked his elbow around the rope and gave his palms a break. He massaged a little of the tension out of his aching biceps and grimaced that he was only halfway to the top. 

It was incredibly frustrating, but he was just as stubborn. Ultimately, Jir reached the padlock. 

Because it was oversized, Jir hoped it would be easy to pick the lock. He found that he could fit his entire hand inside and rummage around the gears. After some fumbling, he successfully unlocked it.

Then he closed the lock. Then he picked it again. Jir repeated the process several times until he could do it reliably and quickly. Then he carefully descended the knotted rope, only to climb it again. He did this until he was physically exhausted, and then removed all evidence of his activities. 

Escaping now wouldn’t gain him anything. Riku Aganeia was still out there somewhere and easily capable of putting Jir into a stronger cage. Only Ainz’s victory would truly free him. So although he was preparing to escape if the situation called for it, escaping wasn’t the plan. 

***

Leaving that flicker of sincerity behind, Jir sighed. “Speaking of appearances, where are my clothes and how dare you remove them without my consent?”

Riku’s voice sounded even more troubled than earlier, “I—I, um…I’m terribly sorry about that. Your equipment was all enchanted, and I didn’t want to risk any of it being cursed or imbued with harmful magic.”

“You recognized my dress,” Jir pointed out. “It obviously wasn’t a cursed item. So, what, you removed that part for fun?”

***

Jir latched on to the embarrassment he heard with a powerful sense of relief. If Riku was flustered about having redressed the emperor, then his body must fall somewhere in line with his sense of aesthetics. Which meant the weapon called beauty was once again firmly in Jircniv’s hands. 

Jir smiled unhappily.  “Well I can answer that for you. They aren’t cursed, now return them to me.”

“… Pardon?”

“My items. Return them.” Jir gestured at the plate of humble food the armor brought with him. “Among my things were various useful items, including some to detect poison. I don’t intend on consuming anything you bring me otherwise. And I don’t think you kidnapped me just to watch me wither away.”

***

Riku Aganeia let go of the metal tray he was holding, and it drifted away to float alongside his weapons. He opened his arms in a beckoning gesture, and despite the circumstances, Jir crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You’ll have to let me carry you,” Riku stated. 

“I doubt you need to use your arms though,” the consort said stubbornly.

The hero’s voice sounded a touch impatient. “It’s easier like this.”

I thought so. Jir managed to confirm a little more about how the hero’s telekinetic ability worked. Whether he could use it directly on people, lift him by his clothes perhaps, or—since everything else he had made float was metal—drag him about by his wings, Jir would have to keep in mind that Riku didn’t need to touch him to exert force on him.

“Fine.” Jircniv made a show of sighing before strolling up to the hero and draping his arms up around his neck. “But don’t expect I’ll allow this sort of breach in decorum by your real body.”

The suit of armor was already very still, but for a moment it was frozen. “… How did you know?”

Jir smirked slightly in victory. “You aren’t as subtle as you think.”

In reality, he hadn’t known for sure, but he wasn’t about to warn his kidnapper that he had fallen into a simple word trap. It would be better if Jir could continue to use that trick on him in the future. It had been quite effective so far. 

All he had was enough clues to risk triggering that trap. The biggest one was that he had been stripped of Downfall of Castle and Country. Riku Aganeia had recognized the dress and claimed it was no threat to him, but he confiscated it anyway. There were only four possible reasons to do so: to leave Jir defenseless against other world items; out of lust; some stupid reason he couldn’t imagine; or because in fact it was a threat and Jir had simply targeted an empty shell the first time he tried using it. 

The final option had a lot of circumstantial evidence to support it, so that’s where he threw his chips in, but the truth would have been determined by Riku’s reaction. 

And it was. 

Incidentally, Jir had not forgiven the fact that he had been stripped naked by this creature while unconscious. He was letting that indignity fester. 

“… You’re clever,” Riku said quietly. “Why did someone like you side with a being like Ainz Ooal Gown?”

***

“…”

“…”

Jir avoided eye contact while looking somewhat ashamed. Riku Aganeia stared silently at him, then down at his plate, basically untouched aside from his empty water glass. 

“… You didn’t eat anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Jir said genuinely. “I really tried.” He hid his mouth in both lingering nausea and embarrassment as his stomach rumbled again. 

He knew it was his fault for being too pampered and picky, and apologizing honestly was likely to help his relationship with Riku more than anything else after being rude enough to turn his nose up at free food. 

But most of the genuine regret in his voice was simply… because he was beginning to worry he might actually starve to death. Even when his stomach was tearing itself to shreds under the stress of Ainz’s “friendship”, Jir had never outright skipped a meal in his life. 

If he’d done his best to keep peasants from starving before this, he would pay even more attention to it after. 

“Um. I’m not sure… what kind of food can suit an emperor’s palate?”

Jir held his face. “If you have to ask that, then it’s already hopeless.” He looked up with a slightly stressed smile. “Among the trinkets I was wearing was a ring that eliminates the need for food. It probably isn’t cursed, so would it be alright if I had it back?”

“I suppose there’s no choice. Which… which one was it?”

Jir smiled, knowing just how many rings he’d been wearing. “It might be easier if you took me along to help look for it. I mean, this cage is just a ruse for when Ainz gets here, isn’t it?”

“Ah… I thought there was a chance you really were on his side, but since that’s not the case.”

Riku sent his spear flying up and used it to pick the padlock, Jir smiled with a nod and stepped calmly out of his cage. “Thank you.”

“Mm. Just be careful when wandering. It’s easy to get lost here, and…”

“And I wouldn’t want Ainz to fly up all of a sudden and grab me.”

“That too, but I was going to warn you to stay away from the central chamber.”

Jir blinked and tilted his head. “… You should really explain why you don’t want someone to do something if you want to keep their curiosity from getting the better of them. What’s in the central chamber?”

***

“… There’s a true vampire among Ainz’s forces, correct?” Riku asked. “One who was mind controlled by the World Item you were wearing when we met, which the Theocracy used to own. What happened to her?”

Jir pretended to be recalling the incident, when actually he was evaluating how much Riku knew and what lies he could get away with. 

“Honyopenyoko? Ainz sent a group of his NPCs to slaughter her after they failed to remove the mind-control. Momon of Raven Black is one of Ainz’s people as well, and they gave him sole credit for slaying her to help him rise to prominence as an adventurer.”

He mixed in some seemingly useful information with the lies to earn a bit of trust from the former hero.

“Does he not have any means to resurrect his NPCs?”

The eight greed kings were rumored to have a way to resurrect themselves, but obviously it had a limit, since those legendary beings from five hundred years ago were all dead now. 

“He does, and he can even revive them without reducing their strength, but he didn’t want to risk her still being mind controlled when they resurrected her. Unlike the Eight Greed Kings, the method Ainz uses is unlimited, as long as he has enough gold.”

Riku flinched and looked at Jir with more pity and comprehension than before. “… I see.”

***

Jir frantically tugged up the hem of his robes, trying to cover himself. “A-Ainz—I can explain.”

“No need.” The undead overlord entered the draconic bedchamber with a purposeful gait. “It’s just like you to use beauty as a weapon. This was part of your ploy to pry information from the platinum dragon lord, isn’t that right?”

“That’s exactly it!” Jir nodded, but he didn’t relax his guard just yet. Something in the air around Ainz felt charged, and he wasn’t sure if all of that energy was hostility toward Tsaindorcus. Perhaps some of it was for his seemingly unfaithful husband. “B-by the way, we didn’t do anything...”

“Yet, you mean.” Ainz stopped before him, looming down from his impressive height, dressed in his full battle regalia. “Had I taken too long to rescue you, you would have done anything to survive. Am I right?”

Jir swallowed instinctively, but his mouth was dry.

Ainz leaned down and his bony claws grasped Jir’s face by the chin, forcing his head up. “We never amended our marriage contract, so you’d’ve been within your rights to do so.” 

Suddenly, Ainz was pressing his fangs against Jir’s lips. His teeth parted to allow the emperor’s tongue a way inside, and to bite playfully at his full lips. After a thrilling moment, he pulled back, red eyes blazing. “But regardless of whatever feelings you might’ve gained for him, my rage is no longer at the level where it can be settled with words.”

Jir’s eyes widened as an impossible thought bloomed in his chest. He reached out and tugged at Ainz’s robes instead of letting him walk away. “Are you jealous over me?” he asked hopefully. 

Ainz glanced back and hummed. “You seem happy about it,” he noted. 

Jir smiled brightly and released his undead husband. Unleashed him, perhaps. “I couldn’t be happier,” he encouraged, “Slaughter him.”

…

Finally walking away from the battle victorious, Ainz returned to his husband’s side. Jir was still lying on the same enormous bed from earlier. The overlord found himself sighing. 

What was that idiotic dragon expecting? Just from the size difference, it was obviously impossible. 

He hesitated. … Right?

Jir somehow made it work with an undead like himself. Maybe he could have found a way—if he wanted to?

Ainz sighed again with a different meaning this time. He released the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown and let it float in place. At the edge of the bed, he stopped approaching, dropping down onto his knees instead. 

“Momonga?! Are you hurt?”

Jir reached for his skull and pulled his face up, inspecting him for injuries with a look full of worry. Ainz drank in the view of his lover that he hadn’t seen in a long while. 

Gone were the countless gilded accessories and the highest-class attire. Jircniv was dressed in simple, flowing white robes that might’ve belonged to ancient dragon priests, from their appearance. His golden wings and hair made it seem like he was glowing, and in the depths of his amethyst eyes, Ainz saw the person he had come to love and rely on. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured, reaching up to hold one of Jir’s soft and sturdy hands. “It’s just a relief.”

Ainz closed his eyes—or, well, stopped seeing through them anyway—to just be in the moment. But soon he felt Jir’s hand trembling and looked up. 

“Me too,” the emperor said, his voice trembling faintly. “It’s such a relief.”

Ainz’s jaw dropped. His always-in-control husband’s face was flushed, his shoulders hunched, and tears were spilling down his cheeks. 

“J-Jir…!” Ainz didn’t know what to do—he’d never seen his husband cry before. After a moment of floundering, he stood up and pulled him into a hug. Feeling his lover shake and sob in his arms, the undead thought darkly, I should have killed that bastard more painfully. 

***

“…Pfft.” Jir covered his mouth, but he couldn’t help a rush of air escaping. Nor could he stop himself from laughing more audaciously after his initial mistake. “Ahahahaha!”

“What’s so funny?” Tsa asked darkly. 

“Ahaha, I’m sorry, haha, I really am,” the human took deep breaths and tried to calm down. “Your emperor should have stopped to consider who might already own those powerful artifacts he coveted. He didn’t “lose control” of his magic, it was stolen from him. Players are godlike beings who project themselves into other worlds for fun. The world of Yggdrasil many of them had enjoyed was ending, and your emperor shined a light on a path to somewhere they could preserve its laws and people. Some of them decided to capitalize on that.” 

El Nix shook his head, grinning like a dragonlord, “Trying to steal from the gods and then acting surprised when they retaliated.” He shook his head. “Rather than fighting back, you should have gotten down on your knees and begged for forgiveness. The moment their magic replaced yours in this world, you should have realized what you were dealing with.”

Tsa frowned, and his puppet projected his voice solemnly. “They are not gods. Neither was the Dragon Emperor, as much as he liked to be worshiped as such.”

“They are not gods anymore ,” El Nix compromised. “But do you, who never were a god, have the right to disparage them?”

“I have the right to fight to defend my home from them,” Tsa said resolutely. 

The consort smiled sympathetically. “You have the right to try.” 

Chapter Text

Jir entered Ainz’s office unexpectedly one afternoon, “Ainz, can I ask you something?” He posed an unexpected request. 

Ainz, who had been delighting in the sudden presence of his beloved, tipped his head in sudden confusion. “Of course, you can ask me anything, but you usually have no need to.”

Jir smiled slightly and nodded, knowing exactly what Ainz was referring to. “True.” He moved over to the edge of Ainz’s desk and sat on it. “In fact, I consulted Revelation just before coming here, but it couldn’t quite tell me what I wanted to know.”

“Oh?” Ainz steepled his fingers and tried to look serious despite tracing the impressive lines of his lover’s body under shimmering silk with his eyes. “What was it you wanted to know?”

“Your birthday.”

Ainz blinked and looked up at Jir’s befuddled violet gaze. “… What?”

“I wanted to know when your birthday was so I could prepare something. I noticed you never celebrated it before, but I still wanted to. However, when I asked,” Jir pulled his bejeweled journal out of his spatial ring to consult what he’d written there, “this is what I wrote down as a result. I have no idea how a date like this translates to the Empire’s calendar.”

Ainz blinked at the familiar numbers and letters on the page and realized he had indeed been in the new world for a few years already without celebrating his birthday. 

“I see…Well, I was born during the height of summer, so I suppose you can just pick an appropriate date around then.”

Jir nodded. “Alright. It will probably become a national Holiday, so I’ll consult with Albedo and Demiurge about it.”

“W-wait, isn’t that a bit much?”

Jircniv smiled chastisingly and shook his head. “No, it’s fairly standard practice. The citizens will appreciate it too since they get an extra vacation day on the king’s birthday. Ah, since you’re undead, would it be more appropriate to celebrate your death day instead? But I suppose that would just be your avatar’s birthday in your case.”

“Let’s just use my birthday if we have to use something,” Ainz sighed, holding his head. He paused as a sudden thought came to mind. “Wait, if this is common practice, is your birthday a Holiday too in the Empire?”

Jir blinked then slowly reached his hand up and swept his bangs back, sending a disbelieving, mirthless smile down toward his boneheaded husband. “Don’t tell me… despite the fact that my birthday is a matter of public record and a national Holiday… you don’t know when it is?”

Ainz had no sweat glands, but he felt as though his entire body would break out into a cold sweat at any moment if it could. “I… I’m sorry. I’m not used to celebrating birthdays.”

Jir sighed and put a small smile back on his face. “Well, I understand. For your information, my birthday is two weeks from today.” Jir hopped off Ainz’s desk and reached for his chin, “I’ll expect a gift.”

As his husband left his office, Ainz sighed in relief. That had gone not nearly as badly as he feared. Though, Jir had always been a very composed and understanding man. Now, Ainz just had to get him a nice gift and they could put this little incident behind them. 

What would be a nice present for him? … … …

Ainz felt phantom sweats for the second time that hour as he realized in horror… that his husband was an infinite money machine who effectively owned most of the surrounding nations and had access to all the amenities of Nazarick. 

The golden emperor lacked nothing. What kind of gift could one give a man like that?

***

Ainz wrestled with that conundrum for the next two weeks, consulting everyone who would hear him out for ideas. He was recommended everything from jewels and riches, to something sentimental or handmade, to quality time spent together—on vacation or in the bedroom. But ultimately, it seemed like everyone just suggested a present that they themselves would appreciate. 

So, pulled in too many different directions and unable to decide on any of the options, Ainz ultimately sought his husband out again. He went and found Jircniv in his office, calmly resolving paperwork and handing them off to waiting attendants. Jir beamed and shooed everyone else out when he saw Ainz. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your work,” Ainz said. 

“Don’t be. I’m happy to see you,” Jir said.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Jir nodded, “Then ask.”

The overlord cleared his throat and posed his question despite the shame. “Is there anything in particular you would like for your birthday tomorrow?”

Jir smirked, “Some people would say it’s the thought that counts.”

Ainz dipped his chin slightly. “I know. I’m sure you would prefer if I came up with a wonderful gift on my own, but as much as I thought about it and asked others for advice, there isn’t anything new I can give you.”

“I know.”

Ainz blinked. “You know? What do you mean? Didn’t you want a gift this year?”

“Yes, I do,” Jir shrugged. “But you cherish me so much it’s as if you treat every day like my birthday anyway. I wasn’t expecting anything new besides a memory.” The golden emperor tilted his head and several accessories made pleasant chiming sounds. “To get me anything new, wouldn’t you have to invent it first?”

“Should I invent something?” Ainz held his chin and murmured seriously. 

Jir shook his head, “Two weeks wouldn’t be enough for that, let alone a day.” He stood up and walked over to Ainz, taking his hand. “Just get me something while thinking of me, like you always have.” He folded his wrists behind the undead king’s neck and gently coaxed him down, whispering into the side of his skull, “And whatever Shalltear recommended is probably a good backup plan.”

Ainz glanced skeptically at him. “… She recommended I get a strap-on.”

Jircniv released his husband’s neck and averted his gaze, coughing into his fist. Ainz was mildly amused to see his husband’s rare embarrassed demeanor. 

“I take it back, just ignore her,” Jir said. He brought his fist over his shoulder and wrapped his knuckles playfully against Ainz’s ribcage. “My point is, some quality time in the bedroom would be appreciated, as long as I’m on top.”

Ainz wrapped his arms around his husband from behind, pulling him closer and enjoying his warmth. 

“Well what’s this for?” Jircniv laughed, leaning into the embrace and trying to shift his wings out of the way. 

“…It’s nothing.” 

Ainz didn’t know how to articulate that he enjoyed seeing his precious friend’s mask of perfection slip a little bit. It made their relationship feel more real… and paradoxically more perfect. 

***

The next day at dinner, to assist Jir with making the new memory he wanted, Ainz picked out a present that he hoped would be memorable, even if it wouldn’t last long itself. 

Using Control Weather, he made it snow inside the halls of Nazarick that evening. The next morning, they found that several of the NPCs had collected the snow and made a life-sized sculpture of their supreme one and his apostle lovingly embracing each other. 

They ended up deciding to preserve the snow sculpture forever with magic, so it turned out that Jircniv did receive an enduring gift that year. 

Chapter Text

Enri waved from the wagon, little Rena in her other arm. “N’fi, hurry up!” she called. 

N’ferea hurried out the door with their bags and thanked Nemu for helping him with the door. He made his way to the wagon and loaded up the bags. 

The goblins who would be staying behind to guard the village waved tearful goodbyes to those who were leaving. They wouldn’t be gone long, but parting with the boss and her adorable baby was a hard thing. 

The family of three left with their core group of goblin guards and traveled until they met up with the Sorcerer King’s escorts. They had an appointment to meet his majesty, but not in E-Rantel. As some of the few people who had been allowed into the Great Tomb in the past, that’s where they were going to meet him this time as well. 

For no other reason than to introduce their child to him and celebrate her birth. 

What an honor, isn’t it? Enri thought, giving Rena her finger to suck on. 

The last time she visited the grand caster’s palace, she was too anxious to enjoy any of it, but after enduring childbirth, Enri felt like she was capable of anything as long as all it required was willpower. 

***

Enri walked down the plush carpeted halls, admiring the various paintings and artworks framing the walls. She saw an oil painting featuring plump, ripe fruit and marveled at how delicious they looked. As a farm girl herself, she wished she knew how to grow such impressive-looking produce. 

She glanced over at N’ferea. “Nervous?” she asked. 

He grinned and shook his head. “Nope!” Looking around at their beautiful surroundings, he smiled broadly and reached for Enri’s hand. “His majesty is an amazing man, but I have nothing to be jealous over.” 

Besides, he’s married now. There was no need to worry about losing Enri to him now that they had a child and he was married to someone else anyway. 

Well, N’ferea did still feel a bit embarrassed that he ever saw an undead as a rival in the first place… But didn’t the fact that Lord Gown had a husband now mean his fears were justified? 

Or, wait, does it mean I was even more wrong?

N’fi blushed and pushed all thoughts about the Sorcerer King’s preferences aside, deciding instead to enjoy the decor.

***

“Introducing, Mr. and Mrs. Bareare,” Albedo announced. 

The outwardly humble couple entered the throne room. Despite having seen it before, it was designed to awe onlookers, and it did so this time as well. Besides, Ainz on his onyx throne looked even more imposing with Jir and his golden throne beside him. Absolute light and darkness seemed to mingle in one place, and both monarchs resembled inviolable deities. 

Enri Bareare recovered first. “Thank you for inviting us, your majesty—majesties,” she bowed her head. 

She elbowed N’fi who was frozen stiff, and he bowed too. 

“There’s no need for that,” Ainz said. “You’re here as guests. Please relax and be comfortable.”

“N’ferea Bareare,” Jir called down. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he nodded, “and your lovely family. You’ve done impressive work for Nazarick. Forgive me for greeting you so late.”

“N-no!” the alchemist waved his hands. “We were busy too with the baby, so it’s no problem!”

“Speaking of,” Ainz said. “Would you care to introduce your newest family member?”

Enri smiled. “This is Rena,” she said. “Would you like to hold her, Lord Gown?”

“O-oh, well, I’m not sure how.”

“Come on, It’s easy,” Enri smiled, making her way up the stairs to the throne. 

Albedo glanced at her fathers, saw no opposition in their bearing, and kept quiet about her presumptuousness. Actually, it would be her duty someday to provide her fathers a grandchild, so she didn’t want to sour her relationship with the only new mother she knew. The human’s help may be needed someday. 

Once she reached the top, Enri showed Ainz her sleeping baby. “Look, just support her body and head like this. Here.”

And suddenly, Ainz had an infant in his bony hands. The inside of his skull was a mess of concerned white noise. 

“This child owes you so much,” Enri smiled faintly. “I know you don’t owe her anything, but if you could look out for her a little, we would be eternally grateful.”

Ainz calmed down a little and hummed. “She’s one of my citizens. Of course I’ll look out for her.”

Little Rena stirred awake then, and Enri cooed at her bleary-eyed baby. “Aw~ good morning Rena. Say hello to Lord Gown.”

Rena immediately started wailing because a scary skull man was holding her. 

“Oh,” Rena paled and so did N’ferea. Ainz was actually more anxious than either of them though. 

“A-ah, well, I suppose that’s to be expected,” he muttered, instinctively passing the crying child to Jir. 

Jir shot his husband a baffled look as he received the screaming package. Babies didn’t even speak the common language yet! He had never had a kid! What was he supposed to do with it?!

“Now now, don’t cry,” he told it, smiling gently. 

Rena immediately stopped crying. So fast that Jir could feel not only Ainz’s indignance but Enri’s as well.

I fixed it so don’t complain, he grumbled internally.

Now that she was giggling and happy, Rena wanted to play, and she did so by reaching out with her tiny, surprisingly strong hands and tugging on his earrings. 

“Ow!” Jir winced in pain, and Rena pulled her hand back, tearing up again.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He forced a smile back on his face and the infant’s mood flipped like a switch. Jir held the baby away from his face before she could get grabby again. She grabbed and sucked on his bracelets instead. Jir tried very hard not to show his disgust, noticing that the child was especially susceptible to his Evoker skill. 

“Mrs. Bareare?” he urged gently. 

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. She’s just a baby.” Rena came and took her child back, and Jir felt a surprisingly deep exhaustion settling in already. 

They chatted briefly with the Bareares before sending them to the dining room, where the monarchs would join them shortly.

It was a brief but much needed reprieve. 

“Young children are quite the challenge,” Ainz sighed. 

“I’m shocked she couldn’t instinctively sense your grandeur, lord father,” Albedo chided. “Surely that’s an uncommon defect?”

“No, I imagine that would be the typical response,” he waved. He looked at Jir, “You were quite good with her.”

The consort ran a hand through his hair and tenderly rubbed his earlobes, “No, not at all. She pulled surprisingly hard.” He shook his head, “And I’m worried about how the constant emotional influence from my skills would affect an impressionable child. I don’t think I’m suited to dealing with infants.”

Albedo smiled. “Well, babies are that difficult, I understand why we were all made more mature.”

Despite discovering that neither of them were remotely comfortable around infants, the monarchs treated the Bareares to dinner and dutifully entertained them until they were ready to go home.

Chapter Text

“You’re so lucky, my lord!” Shalltear gnashed her teeth. “You have monopolized all of lord Ainz’s libido for yourself. I do not know how you ever contain yourself.”

Jir half-smiled at the naughty little vampiress and shook his head. “Ainz doesn’t have any libido, Shalltear.” 

Though, he pondered, perhaps he could now, in a sense. 

Not that long ago, when giving a public speech, he had finally maxed out his Evoker class. At level ten, it bestowed him with a new skill called Sympathy. With a bit of mana expenditure, he could allow another being nearby to feel his current emotions or he theirs. In the past, similar abilities had fallen flat, however, since an undead like Ainz was simply incapable of sharing in certain experiences of the living.

Not that he wouldn’t try it again, just in case. 

“Regardless, he showers you with affection and entertains your needs, does he not?” She fanned herself with a black feather fan. “Ah, if it were me, the things I would do and have him do to me…”

Shalltear sat on a nearby seat, crossed her legs and smiled indecently at the middle distance. Jircniv raised an eyebrow and pushed the lip of her fan down with one elegant finger, interrupting her fantasies. 

“Like what?”

***

Jir parted with Shalltear, who waved enthusiastically at his back. “Come again anytime, my Lord! I have never regretted speaking with you!” She hid her milk-white face behind her fan, except for her grinning scarlet eyes. “And I shall have those items discreetly delivered, I assure you.”

The king consort smiled over his shoulder and nodded, “Please do.”

He continued down the halls of Nazarick, went about the rest of his day, and returned to his room that night. Ainz had arrived before him and was inspecting an assortment of boxes that had appeared in their room. He pulled a black leather collar out of one and examined it curiously. 

Noticing his husband had returned, Ainz felt compelled to say something about the unusual item he was holding. “Ah, Jir. I think Shalltear sent you some gifts? Hm. Black isn’t your usual aesthetic, but I do think it would look nice on you.”

Jir smiled brightly, “Black has always been more your color than mine. Thank you though.”

Ainz nodded and then paused. “Hold on, is this for me to wear?” He examined the collar again… it looked a bit like something a dog would wear, now that he thought of it. “I’m sure you could pull it off, but I think it would look strange on me. Do you think Shalltear would be upset if I sent it back?”

Jir walked up to Ainz and gently took the collar from him. “She and I both would probably be happier if you didn’t. I specifically requested these from her, after all.”

“You did?” 

Ainz was surprised how touched he was to receive a gift from Jir, even though it was just a strange accessory with no enchantments whatsoever. Gift-giving just wasn’t particularly how the emperor showed affection.

“Yes, well,” Jir reached up and fastened the collar around Ainz’s neck, “I can tell you haven’t pieced together what the items in these boxes are for. I hope this helps make it clear.”

Suddenly, Ainz felt awash with sensation. At first, he thought he was just being swayed by Evoker; that was usually the cause of any unidentified mood swings. But he soon realized this was different. The feelings were too sharp and vivid. They felt almost physical. Ainz imagined the tender sweetness was making his cheeks hot; the anticipation leaving him short of breath; phantom memories of body parts he no longer had faintly throbbing with want…

And underneath all that, he was exactly the same as usual. Overlayed on top of reality was a whole different set of sensations and feelings that felt equally nostalgic and alien to Ainz now. 

And just as suddenly as the mood washed over him, it vanished. 

Jir smiled faintly up at him, a little hopeful and a little resigned. “Anything? I recently reached the limit of my Evoker class and learned a skill called Sympathy. Supposedly, you should have felt what I’m feeling…” 

Ainz opened his mouth and voiced his surprise, as well as his sudden comprehension. “Ah! That was lust.” 

It felt good to put a name to the feeling, like slotting the last piece into a puzzle. But at the same time, it was a little frightening. After just a few years without experiencing any true lust, Ainz was a bit chilled to find that he was barely able to recognize the feeling anymore even when it was presented to him on a golden platter. Obviously, people changed and adapted to their circumstances, but it was scary to realize how silent that process could be. 

Jir’s beautiful amethyst eyes widened and then he beamed. “I really didn’t expect it to work… The skill uses a little bit of mana every second. I’ll need you to transfer some mana to me if I’m going to keep it up for long.”

Belatedly, Ainz caught up with what was happening, what all these boxes full of strange items were for, and why Jir was feeling so… energetic at the moment.  

He probably should have figured it out sooner… The moment Shalltear’s name came up, really.

“I see. So you want to incorporate these tonight?” Ainz nodded at the boxes, and Jir snorted faintly. 

“There’s no rush. We’ll just start with a few.” He removed another item from one of the boxes. This time, it was a coil of black silk rope. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Between the collar and the rope, Ainz finally recognized the theme behind the items in these boxes. Thanks to not currently being under the effects of Sympathy, he was able to accept the concept logically. Only a small remnant of his former human self was embarrassed. 

“You want to dominate me? I didn’t realize you… No, I take it back, I can see it.” 

Jir play-pouted, “Are you calling me controlling?”

Ainz’s emotional regulation easily quashed the pity triggered by his husband’s Evoker class. Paradoxically, the stronger his husband’s passive skill got, the more absolutely his undead nature countered it... usually.

“Your entire build quite literally revolves around it,” he rebutted. 

Jir dropped the pout and shrugged, smirking, “I can’t argue. Anyway, this is different.”

“Different how?” Ainz asked.

“That’s my job, and this is for pleasure. Besides, it’s like a performance art. I’ll only be dominating you with your permission. On that note, the safe word is “Pandora” if you want me to stop. Anything else, and I’ll assume you’re just playing along.”

Ainz cocked his head, thought for a moment, and nodded. “I understand… Well, at the same time, I don’t, but it’s fine.”

Jir smiled and threaded one end of the silk coil through a ring attached to the collar, he guided Ainz over to the bed like he was on a leash and then abruptly tugged him closer for a deep kiss. 

Thanks to Sympathy, which activated shortly, Ainz finally confirmed that it indeed wasn’t very stimulating to kiss him. Somehow, knowing that for sure was a little disappointing. All Jir was working with was basically his own enthusiasm and the hope that something would follow. 

Ainz tried letting his jaw open. The anticipation increased somewhat and there was an added hint of joy because he was reciprocating, but still… 

He tried gently biting Jir’s lips like he sometimes did, curious whether he actually even liked it. It wasn’t much, but Jir did feel a tingle of pleasure down his back from that, thus Ainz felt it too. 

Oh?

Spurred on by that, he plied his fangs at the soft pink flesh again, a little harder. Another portion of anticipation sublimated into shivers of fulfillment, and Jir’s expectation readily grew.

The human wrapped his arms around Ainz’s neck and pulled them both back onto the bed. 

Ainz continued experimenting to see what kind of “kissing” provoked the best reactions from his husband. He didn’t really understand the reasoning, but his husband seemed to feel more pleasure when there was just a little bit of pain mixed in, so he proceeded a little more roughly than he usually tried to be. The other thing—which made more sense even though Ainz had never considered it before—was that Jir felt more security and fulfillment alongside the carnal pleasure the more actively his efforts were reciprocated. He liked it when Ainz actively participated.

A bit of unexpected fortune was that Sympathy turned out to be something like a projection skill. Unlike Evoker’s passive, which provoked feelings directly in others, the active skill Sympathy merely communicated emotions. At the end of the day, Jir was the one feeling the sensations that were being forwarded to Ainz, so Ainz experienced lust as Jir experienced it, and his emotional suppression detected nothing unusual in his own emotional state. Indeed, like communication from a message spell, he didn’t actually have to listen if he didn’t want to, but the channel was open so he could.

Jir finally pulled his tender lips away and pulled on Ainz’s collar, forging his head down toward his neck. The overlord hesitated on what he was supposed to.

“I think I remember you telling me not to bite once,” he mentioned. 

“Context, Momonga,” Jir groaned. “I told you not to bite my cock. Now go on.”

He pulled the silk cord tighter to urge Ainz on, not needing to worry about choking an undead. Ainz did as he was bidden, and he wrapped his arms around Jir to have a little more purchase. His skeletal hands found a region near Jir’s lower back that tingled when he held it, so he experimentally traced his fingers over it.  

The human’s back arched, half just because he was ticklish, and half because of a sudden heat quickly spreading throughout his body. 

“Not there,” he ordered, face flushed already. 

“But you liked it,” Ainz queried. 

“I hated it too.”

Ainz feathered his fingers over the sensitive spot again. Jir’s body twitched involuntarily again, and the sour chaos that was ticklishness buzzed in his head once more, before being drowned by hot need. 

Jir gasped on the bed and half-heartedly glared at Ainz, who sat up and unthreaded the silk coil from his collar. “But you liked it,” he stated, more confidently. 

Ainz gazed down at his husband. He sensed Jir was largely focused on his growing need and unhappy that it wasn’t being met, but also bemused and a little excited that Ainz had taken himself off his leash. 

Ainz hummed contemplatively. “Come to think of it, I’ve heard about this sort of sexual play before from Peroronchino,” Ainz removed the collar from around his neck. “He said the order tends to reverse compared to the couple’s daily life.” And he strapped the collar around Jir’s neck instead. 

The human felt at it and frowned. “You’re going to dominate me?”

Ainz felt a lot of emotions from Jir teetering on a fine line and thought carefully about his answer. He shook his head. “No. You’re going to let me dominate you.”

Jir’s amaranthine eyes widened. “A-alright... I’ll allow it.”

Ainz gently tied Jir’s wrists together with the silk cord and raised them over his head, pinning them to a pillow. Then the overlord’s free hand held Jir’s chin as he came in for a delicate bite on the lips. Ainz could feel his husband’s heart beating faster. 

He followed Sympathy’s guidance to trace his skeletal fingertips down Jir’s well-muscled chest and abdomen. Jir lifted his head to kiss Ainz more deeply, and the Overlord answered by wrapping his fingers around the emperor’s scepter. 

His ministrations were guided by the echoes of Sympathy, so Ainz expected to perform better than usual. What he didn’t expect was how immersive more intense emotions would feel. When his hand moved and made the human’s toes curl and his back arch, Ainz was briefly disoriented. Until the wave of euphoria ended, he was half convinced he was the one moaning on the bedsheets instead of the one doing the servicing.

“Don’t stop,” Jir rolled his hips urgently, and Ainz recovered his senses. 

“Be patient,” his fangs nibbled Jir’s neck and his hand started to move again. 

He was prepared the next time and at least managed not to interrupt the experience. Though when he wanted to simply lose himself in the pleasures he had forgotten, it was hard to split his focus away onto anything else. The effects of Evoker also got stronger the more animated and vocal Jir was. Even though Ainz’s emotional regulation kept interrupting, it kept being interrupted in return. 

Ainz got a little lost in the hurricane of feelings, but he noticed he had made a mistake when he felt a sharp pain cross over through Sympathy. Ainz looked down at Jir’s neck and saw a sheen of gold fading away, revealing a pair of bleeding puncture wounds from his fangs.

The throbbing pain didn’t seem to do anything to reduce his husband’s enjoyment, but Ainz couldn’t abide it. He saw a ball gag sitting in one of the boxes and swiftly fastened it around his skull. 

“But I liked it,” Jir teased him. 

Ainz held a claw to his lips to shush him, shaking his head slowly. 

To hopefully prevent himself from hurting Jir with his Claws, Ainz tied his free hand together with both of Jir’s using the black silk cord. He hoped his remaining hand would be much too busy to cause trouble. 

Ainz could tell that his husband was close, so he doubled down and rode the wave of pleasure that followed. When the wave crashed, it felt so real and personal that Ainz actually groaned right alongside the living breathing man who had actually orgasmed. 

Fatigue hit both of them after that, and Ainz rolled over to lay next to Jir, who was grinning wide and gasping. 

“What, did you feel that?” he asked. 

Ainz silently nodded his head and reached up to unfasten the ball gag. “I did… I think I did…? Strange, the memory is already fuzzy.”

“Ah, Revelation is like that too,” Jir nodded in understanding. “Since you’re undead, I guess the only way you can really understand sexual pleasure is in the moment through me.”

“That’s a shame,” Ainz muttered, vaguely missing the forgotten feeling already. Though this misty fatigue was pleasantly pacifying in its own way. It was nostalgically… sleepy.

“That sound you made was cute,” Jir smirked. “I’d like to hear it again—mmph.”

Feeling shy, Ainz stuffed the ball gag in Jir’s mouth and transferred some mana to him while he was at it, since he felt some mana fatigue coming in over Sympathy. He climbed on top of Jir again and reached toward the ticklish spot at the small of his back.

“I suppose we could. I know where your quick start button is now, after all.” Jir blushed and shook his head, and Ainz took the gag back so he could speak. 

“Not there,” Jir pleaded, sending Ainz puppy dog eyes. 

“No?” Ainz asked. 

Jir bobbed his head. 

“Pandora no or just no?”

Jir blinked, flushed bright red, and averted his gaze. “No,” he whimpered. 

Ainz hummed and reached for the spot, activating it. “No it is.”

***

Shalltear smiled to herself as she strolled through the halls of Nazarick. Spotting the lord Apostle, she beamed and approached him with a quicker step. She didn’t dare to run, lest she, er, wrinkle her outfit. So instead, she called out to make sure the Lord didn’t simply wander off. 

“Lord Apostle! How pleasant to run into you here~”

Jir looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. Ah! She almost swooned at the radiant gaze of the second most handsome man in Nazarick. If only he were just a little less… alive—he would be perfect!

His many accessories quieted when he stopped walking. “Shalltear, likewise.”

The vampiress glanced up and down the hall and leaned in to whisper. “Perhaps, were the items I sent over of any use to you, my Lord?”

His reply was swift and smiling, “Why the hell was there a strap-on in there?”

“Pardon?” She smiled wryly and hid her face behind her fan. “I entertained the thought that you might find a use for it, that’s all.”

He nearly did, that’s the problem, Jir thought.

“Anyway, I’ll be returning some of those items,” he said and resumed walking. 

Shalltear beamed and called after him. “Which means you’ll be keeping some, does it not?!”

He didn’t reply, but she could certainly imagine.

Chapter Text

In this world full of levels and items, power could very easily concentrate onto mighty individuals. There were countless beings who respected strength as power in combat alone. 

Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix viewed each and every one of them as fools. 

Strength came in countless different forms and could be eroded in countless ways. Some creatures were powerful because of their race while others trained themselves in various job classes. Among the latter, warriors and magic casters weren’t the only people with power. Broadly, there were combat classes and support classes and both contained a remarkable amount of diversity. Both could be strong.

Jir himself was a type of support class that could be referred to broadly as a leader-type. In their current society which idolized direct combat prowess, that effectively meant that no matter what he achieved, the masses would never think of him as “strong”.

No support class had ever been recognized for stepping into the realm of heroes. Nobody even knew what such a thing would look like if it happened, simply because their power wasn’t directly visible.

It didn’t help that much of society simply marched along without skilled individuals. If humans wanted to fight a war, they would fight. What did it matter whether they had a proper general in more than name to lead their troops? Before Jir became the King Consort of the Sorcerous Kingdom, nobody with a Royal job class stood at the head of the nation. Their “king”, Ainz, was a magic caster and their “prime minister”, Albedo, was a tank. They were talented people in their own right, so the nation had been doing well enough even with two combat classes at the head. 

A person’s capabilities weren’t limited only to their class and skills, but they certainly could help! The difference between a peasant wielding a sword and a knight wielding a sword was obvious. So it was when someone with an actual leadership class took the helm of an organization. Success was simply that much more attainable. 

On average, someone in the realm of heroes was between levels thirty and thirty-five. Beings above that threshold were so rare and unfathomable that they were simply called outliers. And after living in Nazarick for two years and reaching the limit of his Evoker class, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix… was level fifty-five. He still was not acknowledged as a hero by society. 

His achievements should’ve been obvious at this point. The Sorcerous Kingdom had the Empire and Re-Estize as vassal nations, had absorbed the Elf Kingdom, was allied with the Dwarf Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom and “allied” with the Council States. Soon enough, they would absorb the Holy Kingdom, frankly, and both the Theocracy and Draconic Kingdom were strongly considering becoming vassals in the future. 

All of that had transpired within two years, and not only was there no major unrest, the people were happy and prosperous. Once upon a time, the Sorcerous Kingdom had compensated for their rapid advancements by piling infinitely more work onto their prime minister. Jir had not only ironed out the legal systems to reduce the burden at the top, he had done so without compromising the overall quality of their work, and the common people’s situations had improved amidst what could’ve been a catastrophic mess.

Ainz was incredibly charismatic, but he was weak when it came to policy and sometimes lacked common sense. Albedo was a genius, but her actual leadership skills… She had accumulated so much work because she couldn’t manage to secure trustworthy and capable servants to distribute it to. For Jircniv, securing loyalty was the easiest thing in the world, and he could easily pick out the right people for a job. Problems that had been a great challenge for them (like a peasant trying to wield a sword) were exactly what he was geared to handle.

It didn’t matter to the common people. Their nation was growing because Ainz was strong. The economy was improving just because. Jir’s main achievement in their eyes was pacifying their undead king. Other than that, they had no idea what he did all day and how hard he worked for their sake.

As long as society was like this, it would continue to strangle itself, forcing peasants to wield swords in every field—ironically— but the military. To a leader like Jir, the title of hero was a diplomatic tool that could directly improve the lives of everyone under him, and yet he wasn’t permitted to hold it.

Jir was an ambitious man, he refused to stay forever separated from a prize that was rightfully his. So, he had resolved himself to change how humanity viewed heroes forever. And he would start by wielding the language most people associated heroes with: violence. 

Today, Jir would fight the Adamantite Adventuring party Blue Rose in the Grand Arena. The Sorcerous Kingdom and all its allies, enemies, and vassals would be watching. 

***

“So his majesty is going to fight an entire Adamantine adventuring party on his own?” an empire citizen asked doubtfully.