Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Are there any other options that don’t include using higher tier magic?” Albedo asked the rhetorical question, and Demiurge silenced his own objection as they stood near the castle.

  They were dressed not as themselves, nor even in traveling gear, they were instead dressed in the fashion of human servants. Demiurge in one of Sebas’s suits, while Albedo borrowed her outfit from Solution. ‘I do look good in this…’ She thought as she ran her hands over the fabric, ‘Perhaps if I presented myself to My Lord in this outfit…’ She recalled the lewd writings of lusty maids and lusty lords who claimed the bodies of their servants… it was a popular form of reading, one she remembered Whitebrim going on about extensively with Peroroncino. ‘I should have thought of it sooner.’ She pondered before yanking her mind away from the fantasy to focus on the task at hand.

  “Not without more time.” He finally admitted when the silence dragged out. “If only we’d known about it sooner, we could have infiltrated months ago. Or we could have found out what servants were tasked with serving the meals and replaced them with doppelgangers, intercepted my creator at the very gate… so many options… but now?” He reached down to touch the ring on his right hand, and Albedo imitated the gesture herself.

  “This is the best we can do, but the risk is minimal. Remember that Fluder Paradyne is barely a novice compared even to the Pleiades, but among humans he is a deterrent to war. If the Draconic Kingdom had anyone who could use magic high enough to pierce the veil of these items, they would have used such a person against the beastmen. The only x factor are talent holders, and those are few. We likely won’t encounter those working as mere maids and common guards.” Albedo reassured her comrade, but it wasn’t really necessary.

  He knew the same things she did… just sometimes it helped to say them out loud. The rings on their fingers were rings of Infiltration, belonging to Nishikienrai. They created the belief in others that you belonged wherever you were. Imbued with eighth tier magic, short of a talent-born resistance of some sort, there was little to fear.

  “Do you think he’ll recognize us?” Demiurge asked, his tail was invisible, his eyes and ears rendered human, and Albedo’s wings were as invisible as his tail… but otherwise, they looked perfectly like themselves.

  ‘No! Of course not! They threw us away! Abandoned us like they abandoned Lord Ainz! They care nothing for us!’ Albedo longed to scream her outrage and frustration, and she hid the twitch in her fingers by putting her hands on Demiurge’s shoulders.

  “I can’t say.” She answered, “But you deserve to be remembered. And that should be enough.” She replied, his presently human eyes revealed the conflicting well of emotions better than his crystalline ones ever did, and not for the first time, she pitied him as she pitied all the others who were foolish enough to still value their creators so.

  “Just remember to keep control of yourself when you see him, Demiurge. He may be a Supreme Being, and your creator, but our rings will do us no good if we do not keep our heads and break our roles ourselves. We can make contact with him when he is alone, if he knows us, he may make contact himself, and if we have to wipe memories, I brought scrolls for exactly that.” She squeezed his shoulders a little when she said that, a well of sadness in her heart for her closest friend in Nazarick, she had to bite back her warning of ‘Do not expect much out of him.’ And she looked away as she bit it back to hide any hint of how she felt.

  “Now, let’s go.” She said as they entered the castle looking every inch like a prim and proper butler and maid walking into the place they worked, whether from a place they lived, or from a simple errand, whatever excuse would work best in the minds of the guards, they would cling to.

  Albedo quickly realized something in the castle, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the same thoughts running through Demiurge’s head. Servants in a castle are more or less invisible.

  Nobody noticed them, not really. For Demiurge, this was more than desirable, this was ideal. The passive magic of their rings was almost pointless, and thus the risk of failure was nonexistent.

  However, in Albedo’s mind? ‘It’s like them all over again. They created us as pawns and never noticed us, they didn’t even care enough to say goodbye! We weren’t even worth a farewell in their eyes, let alone an explanation! They talked at us, not to us. Supreme Beings or no, are we not made in their image?! Even if they used our bodies as human lords used their servants, I wouldn’t have minded, then they would at least have seen us… shown that we were worthy of their touch… why is it that only one in all of their ranks saw us as we are?! Our whole purpose is to serve… that is what they made us for… didn’t they know what kind of living hell they condemned us to by leaving us behind with nothing to do and no one to serve?!’

  Every step on the cold stone floor redoubled Albedo’s loyalty to Lord Momonga, and made her curse all the more the name of the guild he’d chosen to use in place of his mighty, worthy name.

  ‘To serve him forever, to give him children, to bring him happiness, protect him from all misery and pain, that is what I live for now… if only I could have intercepted this knowledge first…’ Albedo cursed her ill luck.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  ‘If only I hadn’t been attending to matters with the Holy Kingdom, I would have learned about this first…’ She raged behind her tranquil eyes like a still sea with a violent and deadly current beneath the surface.

  She and Demiurge walked the halls of the castle with evident purpose, as if they were going somewhere specific, passing by others who moved in the same way on tasks of their own. When in truth they were learning the layout, and preparing themselves for the task ahead.

  Demiurge’s whole mind was focused on his work, ‘I will finally see him again. Finally…’

  Albedo was no less focused, as they discovered the dining hall that was being established for the welcome of the hero of the Draconic Kingdom and set themselves to assisting the other servants in laying out dishes and cups, hanging banners and lighting candles, she had one task in mind…

  ‘Just as soon as I can… I…My Lord…’ She couldn’t bring herself to think in words, and so a thousand fantasies played out in her head instead. And those thoughts were enough to put so happy a smile on her face that even Demiurge misunderstood its meaning, mistaking her motivation for his own.

  Mviren enjoyed their cheers when they were offered, but the more he thought about it, the more hollow it sounded. ‘It’s been days since then and I haven’t found a plot of land… I thought it would be cheaper, and their jokes… and questions… they hate me for my good luck, everybody hates me, but none of them know the truth…’ He finished another day’s worth of wages by pouring it down his throat.

  The cheap tavern liquor burned his throat on the way down, ‘I just need to leave, start over, where nobody knows that my good luck got my nothing, that I’m such a loser that I can’t even find a good use for a solid gold coin other than what I already use coppers for! And besides, they’ll steal it from me if I stay here for too long…’

  The cautionary words of Mviren’s father came back to his mind, ‘Never make decisions while drunk, it has to sound good both drunk and sober before you know if it’s worth doing.’

  ‘He’d be so disappointed in me right now… found work, found money, still just a worthless drunk…’

  “Heym Mviren.” The voice came from behind, and Mviren recognized it at once.

  “Senda. What?” Mviren asked.

  “Any luck finding a plot of land yet?” Senda asked, he had that same good natured voice he always did, despite his grizzled face.

  “Fuck you.” Mviren groused, and he could feel the surprise behind him.

  “I’m just asking!” Senda snapped.

  “Well don’t! It’s none of your damn business!” Mviren shouted, the rest of the tavern was looking at them both, conversations went still at the sudden noise.

  “Hey… it’s okay, I’m sorry, alright, really… let me buy you a drink to make up for it.” Senda’s calmness settled the edge on Mviren’s temper, at least for the moment… and a free drink was always welcome.

  “Yeah… yeah sure…” Mviren grumbled.

  One free drink turned to five in sullen silence before Mviren stood up on shaky legs, “Going back to my tent…” He hiccupped, drool coming out of the side of his mouth and trickling down his unkempt and growing beard.

  “Yeah… see you tomorrow.” Senda muttered. ‘What right has he to be that miserable, a solid gold coin might not get land here, but he could easily just go to the next town a few days down the road… what does he want to lord his farm over the rest of us or something?’ It rankled, thinking of that lucky find that Mviren had no business getting on his very first trip out on the water, being the sole reason he could have a place of his own, while the rest of them had to practically live on their boats and barely make ends meet.

  Just being at the same table still, it rankled.

  And so Senda rose, left the tavern behind, and turned down the alleyway he would use to get to the common quarters, just in time to see Mviren stumble and fall head first.

  “Mviren!” Senda cried, reaching out in futility as the man landed with an audible crack of his head on the stone. He rushed forward, his feet splashing through the puddles of water that lingered in the shadow between the two buildings, and crouched by his comrade.

  “Are you alright?” Senda gasped and rolled the limp form over. One look was enough to say that Mviren was anything but alright. The crown of his skull was cracked, his eyes were empty of life, and when Senda hovered his cheek over Mviren’s mouth, there was no breath.

  “Oh no… no, he’s gone…” Senda was not without pity… but death was so common in Sasbay, and all of the Draconic Kingdom, that there were no tears in him for anyone that wasn’t family.

  His eyes went straight to the pocket. When Mviren had fallen over, his left hand hadn’t even emerged from his pocket to catch his fall. And Senda knew what lay within. ‘If I just leave it there… he’s got no family, some stupid guard will take it… why leave it for them… Mviren doesn’t need it… and I can do what he was too dumb to do… just go to the next town over… get some land of my very own…’

  That sold him on it, he leaned over, reached into Mviren’s pocket, and found the little golden metal, he closed his fingers around it, and drew his hand out, just in time for someone to shout, “Murderer!”

  Senda looked up, down the alley, the direction he’d come from, a vaguely familiar face stared back at him, “You, you’re the one who was with him inside! The one asking him about money! Somebody call the guards!” The person was in a panic, with crime as it was in Sasbay, and a ‘murder’ before his eyes, fear was rampant.

  “I didn’t! I found him! I just…!” Senda tried to protest, but all at once it hit him how this had to have looked… him crouching over a dead man he’d just been seen talking about money with, whom he’d obviously been in a dispute with… ‘The whole boat heard me ask him to buy us drinks… damn it all!’ Senda shot to his feet, and ran, and ran, until his lungs burst and the voices of alarm vanished in the distance. Never once did he look behind him to see if he was being chased.

  And never once did he let go of his tight hold on the little golden coin.