Overlord (LN)

Overlord Volume 9 Chapter 2

Preparations for the Battle

(Re)Translated by Nigel

Edited/Proofread by Deus Ex Machina

Part 1

One month later.

The meeting was convened within the Valencia Palace of the Re-Estize Kingdom. Gazef Stronoff had been standing motionless beside King Ranpossa III, who was seated on his throne. He surveyed the serried ranks of nobles before him, and his eyes widened slightly as he picked out the forms of the Six Great Nobles among them.

The six of them gathered together was a rare occurrence indeed.

The heads of these six families controlled almost as much land as the King, and between them their military power surpassed that of the King himself. Because of this, they frequently found reasons to excuse themselves from the King’s summons. This was especially true for the leader of the anti-royalty faction ― the Noble faction ― Marquis Bowlorobe, who did not even bother to hide his disdain for the King. It was bad enough that for a while, people thought the Kingdom might fall apart from within.

Next, Gazef’s eyes went to the King’s three children.

The most eye-catching of them all was the King’s third daughter, the “Golden Princess”, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself.

After that was his second son, the Second Prince, Zanack Valurean Igana Ryle Vaiself. During the demonic disturbance, he had earned much praise when he had followed the King in deploying for the sake of the people.

Last was the eldest son, the First Prince Barbro Andrean Ield Ryle Vaiself. He had a strong body and a neatly trimmed haircut, and he was the man who Marquis Bowlorobe was trying to place on the throne. Presumably, Bowlorobe was in attendance for this court session at Barbro’s own request.

Any meeting attended by Marquis Bowlorobe of the Noble Faction was sure to be an intense one. Gazef averted his eyes from the heavy atmosphere, which seemed to loom overhead like gathering stormclouds, and looked at the rest of the nobles.

Of the three men present, who belonged to the Royal faction, the first to catch Gazef’s eye was Marquis Brumerush, the most luxuriously dressed person in the court.

This nobleman with handsome features was approaching his forties. His domain contained gold and mithril mines, whose bounty of precious metals made him the wealthiest man in the Kingdom. However, dark whispers circulated that he was extremely greedy, to the point where he would even betray his own family for a gold coin.

There were also rumors that he had betrayed the Kingdom and was selling information to the Empire. However, because of a lack of concrete evidence, nothing could be done about him. After all, beheading Marquis Brumerush ―a prominent supporter of the Royal faction― without any proof would cause all the nobles who followed him to switch to the anti-Royal faction. If he was aware of this fact and took advantage of it to keep selling off information, then he would truly be the most despicable person present.

Next, Gazef’s eyes turned to the youngest and most handsome of the Great Nobles, Marquis Pespeya.

He was married to the King’s eldest daughter, and became the head of his household at the same time as his marriage. Although little was known about his abilities and personality, his father possessed an excellent personality and was a competent man, so Gazef felt that the young Pespeya might take after his sire.

In contrast, the eldest among the Six Nobles was Margrave Urovarna. His hair was white, and so little of it remained that there might as well have not been any at all. Though his body and limbs looked like gnarled wood, he still retained the gravitas expected of an elder.

Urovarna was the most persuasive of the Great Nobles.

Arrayed against them were the three members of the Noble Faction.

First was the core of the Noble Faction, Marquis Bowlorobe, who controlled the most territory among the Great Nobles. His face was heavily scarred, a lord who looked like a warrior.

As he was already in his fifties, his once-stout body which had been perfected through unrelenting training was little more than a memory of the past, but his voice and predator’s gaze made people think that there must have been more than a little bit of his warrior-self left in him.

Although he ―as a warrior― had lost much of his strength to age, as a commander, he was a better commander than even Gazef, which made him just as indispensable to the Kingdom as the Warrior-Captain.

Beside him was Count Ritton.

He was a man whose appearance called to mind the image of a fox, and also one of the lower-ranked members of the Six. As such, he resorted t ways and means to raise his status. However, his personality of not caring about others’ suffering if it meant he could expand his power was not well received by other nobles. Allying himself to Marquis Bowlorobe must have been a strategic move to escape his enemies.

The final man of the Noble Faction had slicked-back blonde hair and narrow blue eyes.

His face was pale and unhealthy-looking, with little sign that it had seen much sunlight. He was tall and skinny. Combined with his sallow complexion, he gave off the impression of a snake. He was not yet forty, but looked older because of his unhealthy pallor.

With mixed emotions churning in his heart, Gazef looked away from him ― from Marquis Raeven.

The impending succession of the next monarch had only intensified the power struggles.

Marquis Bowlorobe and Count Ritton of the Noble Faction, as well as Margrave Urovarna of the Royal Faction, all backed First Prince Barbro, while most of the unaffiliated nobles supported Marquis Pespeya, who had married the First Princess. Raeven was on the side of Second Prince Zanack, while Marquis Brumerush did not seem to be concerned with matters of succession.

For all these reasons, the King sat on his throne without making a fuss. If he pointed a finger at anyone, there was a danger of civil war breaking out.

Until recently, Gazef had no opinion on who should become the next King. But now, his heart was leaning toward Zanack. Either that, or Princess Renner as a dark horse, but the Kingdom, in all its long history, had never been ruled by a queen, so that was probably out of the question.

“Now then, let us begin.”

The King’s tone seemed slightly different than usual. Those with sensitive ears might have guessed the reason for today’s gathering and showed it with curious suspicion.

“Read out the proclamation delivered by the Imperial emissary.”

In accordance with the King’s orders, the vassals flanking him on both sides began reading the contents of the parchment.

The contents were roughly as followed:

***

The Baharuth Empire acknowledges the sovereignty of the independent Kingdom of Nazarick, ruled by the great magic caster known as the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown, and formally recognizes it as an ally of the Empire.

Originally, the region near E-Rantel was the domain of the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown. The Kingdom of Re-Estize is unlawfully occupying this territory and must now return it to its rightful owner.

If the Kingdom does not comply with this demand, the Empire will aid the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown in an invasion to reclaim the Sorcerer King’s territory.

This will be a just war, fought to end unjust occupation.

***

After the contents were read out, the room exploded into a hubbub of discussion. These terms were insane, and so was anyone who agreed to them.

“Just in case, I have also had the scholars examine the Kingdom’s history, and no mention of any individual named Ainz Ooal Gown ruling the surroundings of E-Rantel was discovered. There is no legitimacy to this claim.”

“In other words, this isn’t even a proper demand, it’s a madman’s ravings!”

The boisterous cry rang throughout the hall.

Marquis Bowlorobe’s formidable presence ― a testament to his former glory as a warrior ― seemed to give the other nobles courage, and they returned his shout with their own approval.

“Although it’s been delayed, isn’t this just the same old Imperial invasion they announce every year? They always find some stupid reason to declare war, so this time round, they must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel to throw up this magic caster’s name, right? I want to see what kind of clown they’ve given that ridiculous title of ‘Sorcerer King’.”

Count Ritton’s words were followed by the derisive laughter of the massed nobles.

“However...”

The count turned his fox-like eyes ―filled with disdain― toward Gazef.

“I believe we’ve heard of this Sorcerer King madman before, haven’t we, O Warrior-Captain Stronoff?”

“...Indeed, he was the magic caster who lent me a helping hand at the outskirts of E-Rantel.”

Count Ritton laughed mockingly before replying:

“I see, he must have helped because he thought they were his own peasants.”

The scornful laughter of the nobles could be heard all around, yet nobody stopped it, because Gazef, who was born a commoner, was hated by many members of the Noble faction.

If it had been a member of the Royal faction, the King would have intervened, but since Count Ritton belonged to the opposition, the King could only furrow his brow.

“Seems like it was the Empire who burnt down the farming villages near E-Rantel, don’t you think? The Warrior-Captain-dono seems to think it was the work of the Slaine Theocracy. The person who rescued them was call Gown, right? Isn’t that magic caster involved with the Empire? I believe someone previously said that magic caster was a spy trying to infiltrate us. And you couldn’t find any trace of the bodies of the people who nearly killed you, did you, Warrior-Captain-dono?”

In his mind, Gazef recalled the sight of the powerful members of the Six Scriptures, as well as the mighty form of Ainz Ooal Gown.

“Although the bodies vanished as Count Ritton said, I do not feel the Empire was involved. When I was at Carne Village, the knights that attacked us were far stronger than those of the Empire. They used angels, and there’s no doubt that they were a unit from the Slaine Theocracy.”

“And why would the Theocracy do that?”

How should I know?

Indeed, if Gazef could give an answer like that, it would make him feel a lot better.

Just as the court was about to fall into squabbling due to Gazef’s silence, a voice of aid rang out from Ritton’s side.

“That mad magic caster is irrelevant! What we need to decide on is how to respond to the false Emperor, isn’t that so, your Majesty?”

“It is as Marquis Bowlorobe says. We need to decide what the Kingdom’s answer will be.”

“I beg your permission to speak,” Marquis Pespeya said as he advanced. “Accepting the Emperor’s terms will be very difficult. Our only recourse is war.”

The mention of war sparked activity amongst the serried ranks of the nobility.

“Oh! Now is the time to crush them once and for all, and then take the fight to the Empire’s doorstep.”

“You’re absolutely right, I’m tired of the constant Imperial invasions.”

“It’s time to let the fools in the Empire know how fearsome we can be!”

“Exactly, just as the Marquis says.”

These words, sandwiched by scattered laughter and repeated throughout the throng of nobles, grated unbearably on Gazef’s ears.

The last few years, they had regularly met the Empire on the field of battle at Katze Plains.

For the most part, they had simply drawn up battle lines and confronted each other, or skirmished briefly with minor losses to the Kingdom. This year would probably be more of the same, and the nobles took on an air of laxity as they imagined the same old events playing out again.

However, Gazef spoke out, spurred by the cry of his warrior’s instincts.

“Don’t think that this battle will end in a small skirmish like it always has!”

The nobles looked like they had been splashed with a basin of cold water, and turned reproachful looks on him.

“I see. This is what our Warrior-Captain actually believes. Can you give us a reason for that?”

“Yes, your Majesty, that is―”

The image of a certain person set alarm bells ringing through his heart.

“―That is to say, it is because of that magic caster, Ainz Ooal Gown.”

“That being the case, the only one of us who has actually seen him face to face would be you, Warrior-Captain. That means we must give some weight to your words. Can you tell us what makes you say that?”

Gazef was a loss for words. He could not give a good answer. He did not know how to explain it, but his warrior’s instinct was telling him that making a poor decision about this war would be extremely dangerous.

“My King, could you not hand over the outskirts of E-Rantel to the Empire, no, to that magic caster?”

After a moment’s silence, angry shouts flew through the air..

“You craven coward! How shameless can you get, you chicken-heart?!”

Those shouts came from the nobles of the Royal faction.

“After his Majesty showed you such kindness, you turn around and tell him to surrender his demesne to outsiders? When did you start serving the false Emperor?! Not to mention, you haven’t even answered his Majesty’s question!”

In the face of such deserved castigation, Gazef could not answer. Had he been in their position, he would probably have done the same thing.

“Enough.”

It was Gazef’s King who reached a helping hand out to him in his hour of need.

“But, your Majesty!”

“I am deeply grateful that my subjects would be so moved on my behalf. It is because of that reason that I ask you to remember that my Warrior-Captain would never betray me. He has fearlessly thrust himself into danger countless times for me. Someone like that would never do anything which would harm me.”

The nobles who had shouted at Gazef bowed to the King. While he acknowledged this fact, he continued speaking to Gazef.

“Warrior-Captain, whom I trust like my right hand. Even if you are the one who puts forth that proposal, I cannot agree to it. Giving up one’s domain without a fight is not befitting of a ruler. Such an act cannot be allowed for the sake of those who live upon it. It would ruin their peaceful lives”

Handing land over while moving all the residents off without harming them was nothing more than a fairytale. Even if it was possible, there would be no way to allow the displaced residents to live like they used to, and in the end their lives would be worse off for it.

“That is undoubtedly so, your Majesty, and I hope you will forgive me for my foolish words.”

Gazef lowered his head as his King, who loved the people so dearly, spoke to him. If he was a foolish noble ― a landlord who simply saw his people as a means of making money, the King would not have said what he did. It was because of the King’s compassion that Gazef was willing to pledge his life to him.

He recalled the words he spoke to his vice-captain half a year ago.

“When you seek help, the ones who will come are the nobles. The strong will bring aid.”

“Those are the ones who will come to the aid of the weak, regardless of the danger.”

The Gazef from before he had entered the grand martial tournament would never have said such things. Much like his vice-captain, he would have thought that there were no nobles who would risk themselves for the commoners.

After he began serving the King, however, Gazef realized for the first time that such nobles existed. Regretfully, said nobles lacked power.

There had been many lives that he could not save, and just as many incidents where the nobles’ pointless pride had led them to throw obstacles in his way.

Even so, the man he served had not given up. He had continued working toward building a kingdom where its people would be able to live better lives day by day.

Gazef was proud of his King, Ranpossa III. If that was not the case, he would have defected to the Empire when the Emperor himself (Jircniv) had tried to win him over on the battlefield.

But it was precisely because he was such a man that dark clouds loomed heavy over his heart.

What the King spoke was the truth, and he had the right view of things. The King had always been full of compassion, but Gazef knew the reason why the King had taken such a harsh tone.

After the demonic disturbance, the balance of power between the two factions had shifted greatly.

For a long time, the Kingdom had been divided into two factions that had been largely even until recently, but now the Royal faction had expanded, while the Noble faction had shrunk.

Because the King had boldly ridden forth and driven Jaldabaoth back, he was seen by the people as a strong ruler, and a fair number of nobles had thrown their support behind the King. Thus, the King could not afford to show weakness here. However, saying that would mean―

“Still, the Warrior-Captain has a point, no? We can avoid a war by handing over a single city. A king also has a duty to prevent undue suffering to his people. Would not a true king be willing to rend his own body for the sake of the people?”

The one who spoke was from the Noble faction. The words were pretty, but they were calculated to reduce the amount of land controlled by the King, and as such, the Royal faction instantly rebutted them.

“That land is the demesne of the King! If you would give up land to the enemy, why not surrender yours first?!”

The reply came just as swiftly

“What nonsense is that?! The Empire asked for E-Rantel and its surroundings! Do you really believe they’d accept my land from the other side of the Kingdom? Why don’t you think before you speak?!”

The Royal faction had grown stronger, while the Noble faction had gotten weaker. That simply made the Noble faction even more desperate to hamstring the King.

The upset balance between the two factions was the source of Gazef’s unease. Once the balance between factions crumbled, the Noble faction’s efforts to weaken the King would only intensify. That might lead to the Kingdom splitting down the middle in the near future.

That being the case, the King would have to show off his strength to quell any attempts at revolt from the potential rebels. However―

Was the inability to admit weakness not a dangerous thing in itself?

***

Lost in his thoughts, Gazef only snapped back to reality after several hard stares from members of the Royal faction. They must have thought he had secretly gone over to the Noble faction because he had suggested handing over the Kingdom’s territory. At the same time, they were looks of reproach for Gazef, for being an upjumped peasant who had forgotten the King’s largesse.

“Hmph! Then, why don’t you ask the King to exchange of your lands with the region around E-Rantel, and then hand it over?!”

“As though land could be so easily traded! You fools!”

“You are the fools here!”

The flames of this childish squabbling engulfed the entire meeting hall. In the past, disputes like this would have ended in a stalemate due to the even balance of power, but now the voices of the Royal faction were louder than those of the Noble faction.

Normally, the King would have stopped this. He did not seem inclined to do so now, probably because the Royals had the advantage.

Just about any human being would find it hard to put an end to circumstances which favored themselves. The King must also have wanted to vent his frustrations with the Noble faction.

It’s like he’s drunk a sweet poison...

Slowly, Gazef began to feel a cold, black conviction in the eyes of the Noble faction. A chill flowed down his spine

The attack of the archdemon (Jaldabaoth) had been the cause of everything.

At that time, the king’s decision to lead his men into battle was arguably the best one. Without his help, the battle lines might have broken and the adventurers would have been overrun. If Blue Rose had gone down with them, the Kingdom would have been in a great predicament.

However, as Gazef looked at the scene unfolding in front of him, he could not help but wonder if they should have done something else instead.

What would this court session have been like if the standings of both factions had been even?

I don’t know, but... ah, that’s right, what if we lost this war with the Empire? Would we continue resisting to the end? Would we not? The Royal faction would lose a great deal of its strength instantly, while that of the Noble faction would go up. Would we return to the days when both sides were evenly matched after such a great realignment? Or would the balance of power crumble completely and plunge the country into civil war? Would that be all right?

He disliked this feeling, the feeling that despite making his own choices, he was ultimately still dancing to the tune of someone else.

Could it be that all this had been planned from the moment I met Gown-dono? No, I don’t want to think that might be the case. We only spoke to each other briefly, but he didn’t feel like such a person to me.

From the way Gazef addressed him with honorifics even in his speech ― and his thoughts ― it was clear that he bore no ill-will toward the magic caster Ainz Ooal Gown, even though he was now an enemy.

...Maybe he could peacefully take control of... ah, no, if I continue thinking like this it’ll be treason.

“I think it’s about time we stopped this petty squabbling.”

A deep male voice cut through the commotion ― everyone fell silent as they tried to find its source.

Gazef bit his lip as someone else usurped the role the King was supposed to play.

That victory was like sweet honey...

He did not think it was a big deal. However, would the King forget himself in that sweetness? Would the King that Gazef was so proud of disappear? He could not erase such thoughts from his mind.

“Your Majesty, if the Empire’s invasion is a foregone conclusion, then we must prepare ourselves.”

“Marquis Raeven, it is his Majesty alone―”

Marquis Raeven interrupted those words from the Noble faction.

“―A moment, please. If his Majesty’s troops are defeated, who knows where the Empire will attack next? Therefore, I will cooperate fully with his Majesty for the sake of protecting my domain.”

Silence fell.

The Kingdom’s troops were conscripted civilians. There was no way they were a match for the professional troops of the Empire’s knights. The only way to defeat the Empire’s advantage in troop quality was with overwhelming numbers. That had been the way things had gone the past few years. If they could not even muster up sufficient troops to match the Empire’s, then the outcome of the war was already a foregone conclusion.

After hearing Raeven’s words, the members of the Noble faction imagined the Imperial knights ravaging their lands as well.

The first to announce their support for the King were the nobles who held land between the capital and E-Rantel, followed by the nobles who held close ties to the first group, and in the end, all the nobles pledged their support.

“All right. Then, we shall delay our reply to the Empire, and gather our troops at the usual place before we declare war. Naturally, I will be going as well.”

“Please let me join you on the battlefield, father!”

The one shouting was Prince Barbro, who had been waiting silently at the side until now.

“...No, no. There’s no need to trouble you ― as the first in line to succeed the throne ― to take the field. I will go this time, ani-ue.”

First Prince Barbro turned to the person who had spoken from beside him, the Second Prince Zanack. Barbro’s answer was short and to the point.

“No need?!”

His retort was filled with hostility.

Zanack’s proposal was a reasonable one. Since the king was already headed to the battlefield, it would be far too dangerous to bring his eldest son along with him. Barbro understood this, but even so, his refusal came from his hatred of Zanack.

That too had stemmed from the demonic disturbance.

During the demonic disturbance, Zanack had patrolled the capital and earned the praise of many citizens. Barbro, on the other hand, hid inside the palace. As a result, the number of nobles supporting Zanack had sharply increased as well.

At a glance, Zanack did not look particularly heroic, and the contrast between his looks and his brave deeds made him stand out. Conversely, Barbro looked impressive, but his inaction made him appear cowardly. In order to erase this shame, Barbro wanted to go to the battlefield to show his martial valor.

The First Prince (Barbro) was a reasonably talented warrior, in keeping with his appearance. That said, he had still led a sheltered lifestyle, and he was not strong enough to beat someone like Princess Renner’s bodyguard Climb, who had trained himself until he had thrown up blood.

Even so, he could still be said to be the strongest fighter of the royal family. Someone like him could not endure losing to Zanack, whose weight meant that he could barely keep his balance after swinging a sword once. Although Marquis Raeven had once said, “What good is a king’s swordplay?”, Barbro knew that he was Zanack’s intellectual inferior, and as such, he was even more determined not to lose out in his chosen specialty.

No matter what, one could not keep trailing behind one’s opponent in the game of thrones.

Gazef’s gut ached as he considered the potential crises hiding within the Kingdom.

Although he wanted to resign his commission after the King abdicated and dedicate himself to protecting Ranpossa III, realistically speaking, it would probably be very difficult to do that.

In addition, he would probably not qualify as a loyal subject if he did not work as the Warrior-Captain to save lives which could be saved. The King might not even allow him to do so in the first place.

If there was someone on his level who could replace him as Warrior-Captain, then he would gladly hand his position over. However,he could not think of any such people. There was one person who was as strong as Gazef, but that person would never agree to become the Warrior-Captain in his place.

What’s Brain planning to do in the future? Does he have something in mind?

Although Brain had become Princess Renner’s direct subordinate, Gazef had a feeling that he would leave soon. If he did vanish, it would probably be to hone his sword skills. As a man bound to the courts, Gazef could not help but admire that lifestyle.

He recalled Brain’s polished swordsmanship.

After the demonic disturbance, Gazef and Brain had exchanged blows in a friendly spar.

Although Gazef had triumphed in that serious match, he could feel the hours Brain had put into his sword work as the wind of his sword’s passage blew through his hair.

For all he knew, Brain might end up becoming stronger than himself in a few years’ time.

If Brain agreed to take my place as the next Warrior-Captain, I’d focus my energy into training the next generation, so the Kingdom would have its share of skilled warriors in the future.

“I certainly agree!”

Marquis Bowlorobe’s voice interrupted Gazef’s thoughts. Now was not the time to worry about the distant future.

“If you will permit me, I would gladly contribute my strongest troops to the effort and to the protection of his Majesty’s person. How about that, your Majesty?”

“Umu. Warrior-Captain, what do you think?”

He could not pretend that he had not heard it. That would be a lie. Gazef put on a show of earnest consideration, while ignoring the twitch of Raeven’s eyebrow.

The suggestion for Barbro to fight at the front had probably come from Bowlorobe, who supported Barbro for the next king. However, Gazef had no proof of this, so there was only one answer he could give.

“I believe it all depends on his Majesty’s opinion.”

The King nodded deeply, and Gazef suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

“Is that so... well, if that’s the case... then you shall come along as well.”

“Yes! Allow me to present the false emperor’s head to you, Father!”

As he listened to Barbro’s enthusiastic reply, Gazef could only hope that the impending preparations would blow away the clouds of unease forming over his heart.

♦ ♦ ♦

Marquis Raeven’s political ability was second to none among the Six Great Nobles, so one would expect that the office where he showed his abilities would be an impressive one. Yet, this was not the case. Many would be surprised if they knew the exact number of decisions which affected the future of the Kingdom that had been drafted in such a humble, cramped place.

The room’s interior was filled with bookshelves, and the books and labelled scrolls were neatly arranged in a way that hinted at their owner’s personality. However, it was not because of these things that the room was so small, although they were part of the reason for it.

The greatest reason could not be seen by the naked eye.

Raeven’s manor home was built of bricks coated in stucco. This was customary when it came to the construction of a noble home, and Raeven’s office was no exception.

However, the interior of those walls were coated with copper sheets that enveloped the entire room.

This was done to interfere with spells used to eavesdrop, observe or detect his location.

The windowless room felt a little claustrophobic, but from a cost-effectiveness point of view, it was practical and had to be endured.

Upon returning from Valencia Palace, Raeven had made a beeline for this office, which was proofed against magic. He crossed to the other side of his sturdy working desk before flopping down onto his chair, in a way that suggested that he had completely run out of energy.

Then, he covered his face with his hands. Anyone who saw him would not think of a great noble who commanded unrivalled power and privilege in the Kingdom, only a middle-aged man who had been worn down by the weight of stress and responsibility.

He brought up the limp strands of his blonde hair in his fingers, combing them back up and leaning back in his seat as his face twisted.

Perhaps it was because he was relaxed now, but the stress accumulated during the court session turned to anger, which filled his heart. Within moments, it had surpassed his ability to contain and exploded into the air with a mighty shout.

“Idiots, each and every one of them!”

Nobody understood what was going on. No, if someone had understood and was taking advantage of the situation, they would be masterful schemers indeed.

Right now, the Kingdom was in great peril.

The Empire’s frequent sabre-rattling led to severe problems such as food shortages, and then there were other issues that were starting to precipitate. The only reason why no cracks in the Kingdom had appeared so far was because the nobles honestly believed “we just need to hold on a bit longer until the other faction collapses first”.

The Empire employed professional warriors known as knights, but the Kingdom had no equivalent soldiers among their ranks. To resist the Imperial invasions, they needed to conscript peasants in their levies. The result of that was villages everywhere running short of manpower for a period of time.

The Empire had a firm grasp of the Kingdom’s practice of conscription, and thus they declared war during the harvest season.

During the busiest season of a farming village, the impact of their adult males ― the most important source of labor ― going missing for one month could not be overstated. Of course, the idea of simply not conscripting as many people had come to mind, but in the face of the Empire’s military, who were far better trained and armed, the Kingdom could not muster any resistance without the weight of numbers on their side.

There had been one occasion when a lack of conscripts had resulted in tremendous casualties for the Kingdom. Fortunately, the counterattack led by Gazef had succeeded, killing two of the original Four Knights and putting an end to the war, since both sides had won and lost. However, the truth was that the Kingdom had been weakened, and in light of the many citizens lost, the Kingdom had come out on the losing side of the equation.

And even during these circumstances...

“That traitorous filth! This foolish power struggle! Those idiots, fighting over a stupid seat!”

Marquis Brumerush, one of the Six Great Nobles, had betrayed the Kingdom by selling its information to the Empire. The nobles had split into two factions and were struggling for dominance. Both princes were eying the succession like dogs feuding over a bone.

Marquis Raeven pounded on his desk repeatedly, venting his anger.

“The King’s no better either! He’s no fool and he’s not drunk on power, but he isn’t thinking at all! If he doesn’t give up his seat soon, it’ll only make the succession crisis worse! Princess Renner gave him a good opportunity by making things favorable for the Royal faction, so he should hurry up and transfer power to the next generation already!”

During the demonic disturbance, the one who had encouraged the king to take the field personally was Princess Renner.

Because of that, the Royal faction’s influence had increased greatly, and they should have been able to put Prince Zanack on the throne if they had advocated it then and there. However―

“Things ended up like this because he pitied his first son. It’s not like I don’t understand his feelings, but nobody’s thinking about what’s important! Nobody at all!”

Strictly speaking, this was not true.Unfortunately most of them were in Raeven’s camp.

He should not have concentrated them all under his wing. Instead, he should have carefully disseminated them throughout the other factions and had them influence the leaders from the inside. However, his irritation was not aimed at himself for not doing this earlier, but at the members of the other factions, whose brainlessness was giving him headaches.

“Idiots, each and every one of them!”

Raeven shouted in frustration as he thought of these Goblin-brained simpletons who could only see the bait in front of them.

“―Even so, what should I do? Think, Raeven, think!”

Raeven’s frustration grew as his breathing calmed.

He had to think of how to keep the Kingdom going, even in the face of the dangers ahead.

“To begin with, this war with the Empire is dangerous, especially if that Ainz Ooal Gown commands great power. I should start by assuming he can cause over 10’000 casualties by himself before I begin strategic planning. Then at the same time, I’ll push for the prince to be the next king... Will that be too difficult? ”

Raeven spoke the words on his mind out loud while he organized his thoughts. Honestly, he wanted to share this matter with someone and discuss it with them. That was why Raeven supported Prince Zanack.

The Second Prince was his only ally ―though there was now another person, Princess Renner― amongst the royals. Both of them understood the danger which the Kingdom faced, and he considered her a comrade in arms when it came to planning for the future.

If only he could ascend to the throne, it would take a weight off his right shoulder.

“...I don’t think he was joking when he promised to make me the Prime Minister. Though I can’t relieve the burden on my left shoulder, at the very least it would improve the Kingdom’s condition.”

Raeven’s current objective was to place Prince Zanack on the throne. If he failed in that, the country would take another step toward ruin.

“With Princess Renner’s help, my job would be easier, at least.”

Raeven sighed heavily as he gave voice to his thoughts and future plans.

Even he had days when he wanted to just put everything down and walk away.

Sometimes, the excessive worrying had even made him contemplate destroying the Kingdom with his own hands, although that particular thought had only come up once or twice.

It was like he was trying to build a sandcastle, surrounded by little brats trying to kick it down. At times, he felt like destroying the sandcastle himself, just to deny them the satisfaction. Still, he had a reason for ignoring those destructive impulses and carrying on like he did.

There was a knocking on the door.

The sound seemed to come from a lower position than usual. For a moment, Raeven displayed an expression that was unlike his normal self. Perhaps you could say his expression melted; his eyebrows were drooping, and even the corner of his mouth was uncharacteristically relaxed.

“Oh, that’s not good. I can’t make a face like this.”

Raeven lightly smacked his face, since his willpower was insufficient to restore the proper dignity to it. After tidying up his wild hair, he turned to the metal door and spoke so the person on the other side could hear. Though his voice was loud, it contained a surprising gentleness that indicated that he was not angry.

“Come in.”

The speed with which the heavy door opened indicated how much the other party had been looking forward to it.

On the other side of the door was a boy.

The boy’s innocent, adorable face was colored with a slight blush on the pale skin of his cheeks. He looked to be around five years old, and he padded across the floor, stopping at Raeven’s knee.

“Now now, you know you shouldn’t be running indoors, it’s hardly refined.”

A female voice followed the boy over to Raeven.

She was a woman with a pretty face that was shadowed by gloominess. She did not seem like a happy woman. Her clothes were of exquisite make, but their colors were muted.

The woman bowed primly to Raeven, and then she smiled.

With a hint of embarrassment, Raeven returned the smile.

When had his wife started smiling?

Suddenly, the memories of those days came unbidden to Marquis Raeven.

When Marquis Raeven had been a younger man, his heart brimmed with the ambition and drive that was the hallmark of youth. And the target of his ambition was the throne.

Aspiring to the throne was a treasonous dream.

The young Marquis Raeven, filled with confidence in his abilities, probably felt that he had no other goal that was worthy of being his lifelong objective. Toward that end, he had worked quietly, expanded his influence, accumulated wealth, expanded his connections, crushed his political enemies―

Taking a wife was nothing more than a part of his plan. As long as he could sell off the position of marchioness at a high price, he did not care what kind of woman he ended up with. As it turned out she was a beautiful, yet gloomy woman, but Raeven did not mind. After all, the important thing was the connections he made with his wife’s family.

Their home life was ordinary.

No, that was just how Raeven felt it was. He cared for the woman he married as a tool, but there was no love between them.

As fate would have it, it was a tiny thing indeed that changed Raeven.

He turned his eyes to the boy in front of him.

The first thing he thought when he learned he had a son was that he had another tool to use. However, as the newborn boy clutched his finger with his tiny hands, something broke inside Marquis Raeven.

This was his soft, squishy son, who seemed as much a monkey as a human being. He certainly did not think that he was adorable. Yet, when he felt the warmth that radiated from his finger, everything else suddenly seemed silly.

The throne felt like garbage to him.

The man driven by ambition had passed away at some point.

Then, when Raeven smiled in thanks to his wife that had just given birth to his son, he vividly remembered the expression on her face. It was a funny one, even if he would never say that out loud. He remembered that it seemed to ask, “Who is this person?”

Of course, his wife had thought that this was just a temporary change caused by learning that he had an heir. However, Raeven continued changing after this, and it made his wife wonder if there was something wrong with him.

In the end, when his wife considered her husband before and after his change, she came to the conclusion that she preferred the new Raeven, and her attitude shifted as well. The two of them were, at long last, a normal married couple.

Raeven reached down and lifted up his son, who was trying to scale his kneecap.

The boy gurgled in delight as he was placed on Raeven’s thigh. He could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, and the familiar weight felt comfortable. A warm, steady satisfaction filled his chest.

Now, Raeven had only one objective.

“I want to leave a well-kept domain to my son.” It was a goal that any noble father would have.

Raeven looked warmly to the boy on his leg, and spoke to him.

“What’s the matter-chu? Rii-tan? Chuchu~”

Only two people in the world would ever see a Great Noble puckering his lips and going “~chu”.

One of them, the boy, gurgled in delight.

“...Darling, babytalking him will spoil his grammar.”

“Hmph! Nonsense, that’s nothing more than a baseless rumor.”

That said, Raeven reflected that it would be bad if he raised his son poorly.

Since he was his son, that meant that he must have some measure of talent. Or rather, it was fine even if he was not talented, but as his parents, they had an obligation to discover or cultivate their child’s abilities. As such, it would be bad if they negatively influenced him. Even so, he refused to give up the loving nicknames for him.

Love was the best teacher, after all.

“Isn’t that right, Rii-tan? What’s the matter? Do you want to tell Papa something?”

Raeven ignored his wife’s perturbed expression and asked again.

“Ehehehe, well~”

He looked like he wanted to share a secret of some sort, judging from the way he covered his mouth with his little hands. As he saw that movement, Raeven’s heart melted, the corners of hsi eyes drooped, and he made a face one would never expect of the man who had been referred to as a snake.

“Well, what is it? Can you tell Papa~n? Uwah~ what is it?”

“Tonight’s dinner~”

“Mm, mm!”

“It’s Papa’s favorite!”

“Uwah! Papa~n will be very happy! What’s for dinner tonight?”

“It’s Gabra fish à la meuniere.”

“Is that so― What’s wrong!? Rii-tan?”

Raeven saw the unhappy expression on his son’s face and frantically followed up with a question.

“I wanted to say it!”

Lightning seemed to flash behind Raeven’s back.

“Is that ~chu er, I mean, is that true? Well, then it’s Papa~n’s fault. Please forgive me. Rii-tan, do you want to tell me anything?”

As Raeven looked at her with furrowed brows, his wife, not knowing what to do, covered her face.

“Rii-tan, why don’t you tell Papa~n?”

With a hmph of annoyance, the boy jerked his head aside. Raeven looked like he had just experienced a tremendous shock, so despondent that he wanted to die.

“I’m really sorry, Rii-tan, Papa~n is a moron and forgot everything~ Therefore, could you tell me?”

His son glanced at him from the corner of his eye. It would seem he was almost there.

“Not telling Papa~n? Papa~n’s going to cry~”

“That ― well, it’s Papa’s favorite fish~”

“Really now! Papa is so happy to hear that!”

Raeven could not help kissing his son’s pink cheeks over and over. It tickled, and so the boy laughed innocently.

“All right, then let’s go have dinner!”

“―-I don’t think it’s ready yet.”

“―Really now.”

It felt like a basin of cold water had been dumped over his head, and an annoyed expression spread over Raeven’s face,. It would have been an easy matter to order the chefs to hurry up, but they still needed to follow the appropriate steps to do their work, and those steps had to be executed with specific timing. Thus, if he selfishly disrupted their routine, the food would not be as good as it could be.

This was why Raeven did not give those orders, even if he was not happy about the wait. It was also because he wanted his son to have the best meal possible.

“All right, your father is in the middle of work. Let’s go.”

“Kay~”

Raeven could not hide his loneliness he felt as he heard his son’s lively reply.

“Ahem! Wait, actually, I’m done with work.”

“Really?”

“Umu. I really am done with work.”

“...Is that so? Are you just planning to put it off until tomorrow?”

“...”

Even if his wife was rolling her eyes at him, Raeven would not let his son down from his knee. He clutched the boy tightly, and sighed as he felt the heat from his son’s hot body flow into him.

“...Well, I was already at a dead end anyway,” he muttered. “Not like I could finish it in a day.”

This was not an excuse. The fact was that he did not have anything urgent to take care of.

His wife seemed to realize this and nodded several times.

“I understand, but still... it seems really troublesome.”

“That’s what I said. I don’t need more arms or legs to do my work, just good heads.”

“How about my brother?”

“He’s talented, but given that running your family’s estate is taxing enough as it is, I don’t think I could throw more work at him. Do you know anyone else who can be trusted?”

Raeven had already asked this question several times, and his wife had given him the same answer; there’s no noble who can work on the same level as you.

The truth was that if someone else was like that, his life would not have been as difficult as it was now. In the end, all that he could do was to look among the commoners. If this was a place like the Empire, where there was a national system of education that trained people up for public service, it would have been fine, but in the Kingdom, looking for hidden talents was like finding a needle in a haystack. All he could do was listen to rumors of talented people and recruit them.

As he thought of how much time and effort this would need, Raeven’s heart sank. At this moment, his son had a good idea and spoke up.

“Papa~n, I want to help you to work too~”

“Uwah~ Rii-tan, thank you very much! I love ~chu most of all!”

Raeven did not stop kissing his son as he continued his baby talk. This was without doubt the happiest moment of his life.

He could forget the stress of his daily life and achieve a small measure of peace.

Even if I have to sacrifice myself, I will protect all of this, Raeven vowed in his heart.

Part 2

It had been two months since the Empire’s declaration of war, and now it was the season which turned one’s exhaled breath white.

In villages all over the Kingdom, the bulk of the work had transited from outdoors to indoors. Few people ventured outside now. Not many people were still working. This was true even for the adventurers, who gave the impression of working all year round.

Although there were cases where hungry monsters suddenly appeared in villages and there were emergency requests to fill, there was less to do for the most part. Stepping into uncharted territory was more dangerous during this time, be it to explore ruins or unknown lands during this period. Because of that, adventurers considered this something like a season of rest, and channelled their energies into training, recreation or their side businesses.

That said, the Fortress City of E-Rantel was not like that at present. It was filled with life and activity.

This commotion, however, was somewhat different from that of the other cities in the Kingdom. The activity here was not born of the usual energy of city life.

The source of this activity came from the outermost sector of the three walls.

The countless people gathered here were shabbily dressed. Most of them were commoners. But their numbers were astonishing ― there were around 250’000 of them. Of course, E-Rantel did not always have so many people in it.

It was true that E-Rantel was the nexus of trade and traffic between three kingdoms, with people, money, goods and other things flowing freely through it. Because of that, the city was a large one.

However, that by itself was not enough reason for just one sector to be packed with 250’000 people.

In that case, why were there so many people here?

The ones who could best shed light on this was a group of young men.

Carrying bladeless spears ―more like sticks, really― many young men stabbed and thrust at dummies made of wood and straw, clad in rusted armor and shields.

This was combat training. Yes ― the people gathered here today, all 250’000 of them, had been gathered for the battle against the Empire.

Loud battle-cries rang out everywhere. Of course, few of them were actually shouted in earnest. Most of them were gripped by the fear of the coming battle, and they trained to distract themselves from the nagging worry that they would not be going home after this.

Even so, not all of them were practicing in earnest.

The wars with the Empire were a yearly occurrence. As a result, many people had been broken down by them. There were those who lay down in unobtrusive niches. There were those who vented their frustrations to those around them. There were those who sat down and hugged their knees.

The older they were, the more likely they were to do this.

They had no fighting spirit at all and only wanted to return home alive.

This was the true face of the Royal Army. Yet, it could not be helped. To begin with, they had been rounded up by force. Then they were told that they would have to risk their lives in bloody battle for no gain to themselves. Even if they managed to return alive, they would return to a wasted harvest, and their lives would be very difficult, like a noose slowly strangling them.

This was no different from a drawn-out execution.

The wagons rode past the soldiers. Their beds bulged with vast quantities of foodstuffs.

Logically speaking, it would be difficult to house and feed 3% of the Kingdom’s population within a single city. However, E-Rantel was the frontline of the wars with the Empire, and had been designed to accommodate the Kingdom’s military might.

After several battles with the Empire, the city had been prepared to handle 250’000 people with ease. Their storehouses were massive, and were probably the largest buildings in the city.

The supplies kept pouring into those storehouses.

The unmotivated people looked fearfully at those wagons. It was as though they were staring at Death slowly creeping towards them.

Everyone knew what was going to happen next.

This was a large-scale transfer of rations.

That meant the war with the Empire was going to begin.

♦ ♦ ♦

This was the innermost sector of the E-Rantel’s triple walls.

In the center of the city was the mansion of the mayor of E-Rantel, Panasolei Guruze Dale Rettonmai. Although it was a luxurious home worthy of the city’s leader, it still paled in comparison to the building beside it.

That building was the most impressive in the city ― the VIP villa. It was typically sealed up, and only the royal family or those close to them would be permitted to use it.

And now, in a room within that villa, several men were gathered around King Ranpossa III and the Great Nobles.

Gazef stood silently beside the King, who sat upon a crude throne.

A large table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by nobles, who were studying the large map that had been rolled out upon it. There were several troop position markers on the map, an around it were countless scattered documents, nominal rolls, reconnaissance reports, combat logs, monster appearance reports and the like. Although there were waterbearers behind them, there was little water left.

It was testament to the intensity of the debates that had taken place here.

The truth was that fatigue was starting to appear on the distinguished, pedigreed faces of the Great Nobles. As one’s forces grew larger, there were more things which had to be discussed, and more decisions that had to be made. While low-level issues could be delegated to subordinates, they had to coordinate the matters of the nobles within their factions personally.

As nobles with their pride on the line, they could not afford to embarrass themselves before others, which only added to their workload.

However, that was over now.

Marquis Raeven, who looked the least exhausted of everyone here, opened his mouth to speak.

No, it was better to say that he was always the first to speak. He might have been slighted as a “bat,” but nobody doubted his intelligence. Having him chair these cross-factional meetings was the fastest way to get things done.

“Thank you all for your hard work. For the most part, I believe we’ve finished our preparations within the deadline. From now on we will begin discussing the strategy for the upcoming war against the Empire.”

Raeven’s gaze swept across everyone present, and he held up a parchment for all to see.

“This is a declaration from the Empire that arrived several days ago. It states the proposed site of the battlefield.”

The concept of proposed battlefield locations stemmed from the fact that battlefields invariably became cursed locations which spawned the undead. Therefore, when battles were to be waged between members of fellow species, they would designate specific locations where they would fight. Assuming both sides agreed, they could do battle there without harming each others’ countries.

Of course, not all wars were fought like that. Or rather, it was rare for such agreements to be made. However the Kingdom and Empire had fought on designated battlefields for the past few years.

Even if they took new land, it would be more trouble than it was worth if it spawned undead nearby, and there was no point in defending land from invaders if it ended up cursed and uninhabitable anyway. Both sides shared the same point of view, hence the agreements.

For that reason, someone sighed in relief as Raeven announced the missive. That noble must have thought this war would be the same as any other, given the familiar nature of the declaration.

“Then, the battlefield will be―”

“Isn’t it the same old place, Marquis Raeven? Where else could it be?”

“Indeed. As Marquis Bowlorobe says, the battlefield is the same place as all these years. That cursed land enveloped by mist, the Katze Plains. Specifically, the northwest region.”

“Since it’s the same place, does that mean the Empire’s invasion will be the same as always?”

Although the Empire claimed to be helping the magic caster Ainz Ooal Gown reclaim his rightful territory, most of the nobles felt that this was merely a casus belli for them to declare war like they always did.

If that was all, Gazef would have agreed, but Raeven shook his head.

“Unfortunately, Marquis Brumerush, that does not seem to be the case. According to my sources, the Empire has mobilized a great deal of military power for this engagement. I sent my subordinates ― a team of formerly orichalcum-ranked adventurers ― out to follow up on this, and while they aren’t sure of the exact figure, judging by the insignia and badges of the activated units, the Empire has fielded six full legions.”

“Six?!”

Consternation rippled through the gathered nobles.

The Empire had eight legions of knights, but up to now, the most they had ever committed four to the field at any one time. But this time, they had brought out one and a half times that amount.

“Are they... serious?”

The question came from a noble with an uneasy expression on his face.

The six legions of the Empire contained 60’000 men. The Kingdom had 250’000 men, but although they had the advantage in numbers, the reverse was true in terms of troop quality.

“I’m not too sure, but we may need to consider that this may not end in a simple skirmish.”

In the battles to date, where the Empire’s 40’000 men went up against the Kingdom’s 200’000, the Empire would launch an attack, which the Kingdom would weather, and that would be the end of it. The Empire’s objective was to slowly exhaust the Kingdom and waste their stocks of food, so just forcing the Kingdom to take the field would accomplish one of their objectives.

If they were planning on doing the same thing, there would be no need to mobilize 60’000 men. That meant they had another motive for doing this, Raeven thought.

“It seems increasing the levy was the right decision to make.”

However, the increased costs of fielding more soldiers were also a headache.

In the past, their battles had been fought during the harvest season of autumn. This war would be fought in winter, requiring expenditures for things like firewood, warm clothing and so on which had never been needed before.

This war was financed by the King. If the Royal faction’s power had not increased, it would have been hard for the King to gather funds, and the King’s own power would have sharply declined.

“Still, Marquis Raeven. Don’t you think they’ve mobilize more men then usual in order to impress that magic caster calling himself a king which they allied with, or just putting on a show? After all, not raising a large army against us would result in them losing face in front of their allies.”

“I believe that is very likely. In truth, given that we’ve received no communication from this Ainz Ooal Gown, I suspect that this incident may have been masterminded by the Empire and this Ainz Ooal Gown is only a bystander who was drawn into this. He might not even be participating in this of his own free will.”

Personally, Gazef felt that it would be wonderful if that were really the case. That way they would not truly need to make an enemy of that mighty magic caster, and how many people would that save? However, that might be too optimistic.

Gazef opened his hitherto tightly shut mouth.

“May I speak?”

“Granted.”

With the King’s permission, Gazef began unburdening himself of his doubts.

“I do not think that is the case. Much like with that document from the Slaine Theocracy, I do not think this declaration of war is a mere sham.”

Displeasure was clearly evident on the nobles’ faces.

E-Rantel and its surroundings was the meeting point of three nations. Every time the Kingdom and the Empire had their little wars, the Theocracy would make its opinion known. “To begin with,” they would say, “E-Rantel and its surroundings originally belonged to the Slaine Theocracy. The Kingdom has taken control of it unlawfully and they are obliged to return it to its rightful owners. It is deeply regretful that such improperly appropriated territory should become the object of a power struggle,” and so on.

When they heard this, both countries wanted to tell them to stop cutting in from the side, but to date the Theocracy had never mobilized their troops, so they believed that their disagreement was purely verbal.

This time, however, the tone they had taken was very different.

“The Theocracy has no records of him and cannot make a ruling on the matter, but if this land rightfully belongs to AInz Ooal Gown, then we will acknowledge the legitimacy of his claim.”

That was what their communique had said.

The nobles of the Kingdom were furious at this statement, which sounded like the Theocracy was spouting utter rubbish out of nowhere. However, there were those who understood the true meaning behind the document.

The Slaine Theocracy was saying, “We have no intention of antagonizing Ainz Ooal Gown” on a national level.

That implied that the Slaine Theocracy, the strongest nation in the region, was not willing to risk a confrontation with a single magic caster.

But that was understandable, Gazef thought.

“He easily wiped out one of the Six Scriptures... and although he said he didn’t kill them, the Slaine Theocracy feels that it would be a bad idea to make an enemy of someone with such power. If Ainz Ooal Gown was pulled into this war by the Empire, they wouldn’t need to roll over like this.”

“Hmph. So what if they have one more magic caster? Aren’t we the ones with 250’000 people?”

Count Ritton laughed in the face of Gazef’s caution, the mockery evident in his voice.

Gazef fought the urge to furrow his brows. Although he understood the shocking power of a great magic caster, he also understood where Ritton was coming from.

If he knew nothing else, he would have thought the same way too.

For example, there was the famed magic caster of the Empire, Fluder Paradyne. His name was known in distant countries. He was rumored to be able to use magic of the 5th or 6th tier, but to be honest, nobody knew how powerful he really was.

That was because he had never taken part in the Empire’s wars, nor had he used his magic to rout the armies of the Kingdom.

While the 6th tier of magic was impressive, exactly how impressive it was remained to be seen.

Even Gazef, someone who had survived countless battles as the Kingdom’s Warrior-Captain, felt that way.

The nobles were not magic casters, but had probably only been told about magic as part of their education. Many of the Kingdom’s nobles thought little of Fluder, thinking of him as nothing more than a posterboy for the Empire’s propaganda. The nobles who had little contact with magic-users like adventurers were even more likely to think that way.

Count Ritton was one of them. To him, magic casters were little more than stage magicians. Of course, the priests he turned to when he was sick or injured were a different matter.

“...I don’t think that’s quite right. They can be quite hard to deal with if they use flying magic and attack with area-effect spells. Long-ranged attacks can be quite damaging. Of course, professional magic casters won’t do things which don’t benefit them. Still, the Empire’s treatment of Ainz Ooal Gown is just too strange. They wouldn’t go this far if he was a simple magic caster, so we had better stay on our guard.”

Those severe words were spoken by Margrave Urovarna, whose head of white hair and wrinkled face conveyed the stern dignity of a senior individual. As the oldest of the six Great Nobles