Valkyrie's Shadow

Winter's Crown: Act 8, Chapter 24

Winter's Crown: Act 8, Chapter 24

Chapter 24

A bit down the road from E-Rantel’s south gate, Ainz was led to a raised platform built to face the city. Standing atop it were Aura and Mare, who brightened at his appearance.

“Ainz-sama!” Aura called down cheerfully while waving a hand over her head.

He joined them on the platform, and a row of figures seated along the back rose to their feet. Aside from Cocytus, at least one of them looked familiar: the Commander-in-Chief of the Dwarf army. Upon recognizing him, he thought he remembered the others as well. Behind them stood the members of Nazarick that functioned as support staff in the city. Several guild masters from the city were in attendance as well.

Many visibly tensed at his appearance. Veiled looks of grave concern were cast in his direction as he knelt down and patted the brightly smiling twins on the head.

Yes, look at me: I’m your friendly neighbourhood Sorcerer King. Even children love me…

He rose once again, surreptitiously gauging the delegation’s reactions as he approached their seats. As adorable as it was, this ‘act’ was not effective on the citizens, who were well aware of Aura and Mare’s association with him. Ainz waited patiently to try it with the children of his subjects, who were able to adapt to their new circumstances with the flexibility that children had, but their parents kept ushering them away before he could get close.

“Your majesty,” the Cabinet Secretary greeted him. “It’s an honour to meet you again on such an auspicious day.”

Ainz wasn’t sure what was so auspicious about it, but he returned the Cabinet Secretary’s greeting with his painstakingly practised air of regal dignity. As he did so, he noticed a line of wagons forming on the road.

Eh…they’re blocking traffic for this? Is this my fault? Because I take my walks at this time of day?

The salaryman within him wanted to run over and apologize profusely for the inconvenience that he had caused. He understood that it was an official function between the Sorcerous Kingdom and a friendly nation, but he didn’t think there was a need for everything to revolve around his daily schedule. What were they presenting him with, anyway? He wracked his memory for the paperwork from last week that Pandora’s Actor had mentioned, but came up empty. It definitely existed somewhere; the event wouldn’t have been organized without him putting his seal of approval on it.

Ainz took his seat and leaned over towards Pandora’s Actor.

“We appear to be missing a few officials,” he said in a low voice.

“Minister Bloodfallen is on the other side, overseeing the delivery of the tribute. Demiurge is away as usual. The Prime Minister is…” Pandora’s Actor chuckled, “well, let’s just say the entire affair has ignited the fires of competition within her.”

Unable to ask without appearing ignorant of the matter at hand, Ainz turned his attention forward to look at the city gate for any clues as to what was going on.

Were those there before?

Two stone mounds had been raised and levelled off to either side of the gate. His mind recalled the designated locations where Demihuman tribes placed their tributes – consisting of flowers, fruits, meat, simple crafts, unrefined precious metals and stones – and imagined giant piles of them stacked at the gate.

No, Dwarves aren’t Demihumans…since it’s a collaborative effort, maybe it’s a fusion of some sort?

The Dwarf Kingdom’s Cabinet Secretary launched himself into a droning speech extolling the virtues of the Sorcerer King. As he went on about friendship, prosperity and a bright future between their two nations, the vision of an archway came to Ainz’s mind. That might make sense. A finely sculpted stone archway that symbolized the good relations that the Sorcerous Kingdom had with its neighbours. He added flowers to it for good measure.

“Your majesty.”

Ainz looked away from the gate, towards the Cabinet Minister who was inviting him to the front of the platform. The assembled dignitaries stood as he made his way. He watched the city gate intently, curious over what would be presented.

A black line appeared in the middle of the road leading through the city entrance, which widened to span the entire gatehouse. It continued to grow, blocking off the entire view of the southern wall.

A Gate? Why is it so big? Are they using Gargantua to move something…no, it’s too short for Gargantua to fit through.

As wide as it was, the Gate was only half again as tall as E-Rantel’s outer wall. A number of Dwarves came through, and Mare hopped down to join them. A crimson figure flew out of the Gate: Shalltear in her armour. She circled the area twice before coming to hover in front of the portal, and the people below cleared away.

Six massive beings slowly made their way out of the Gate, and Ainz could feel their shuddering steps all the way from the platform.

Frost Giants, hm…

He had seen them before. Too many times, in fact. This was, however, in Yggdrasil, where they existed in the same region as Ice Dragons: a popular farming target for high-level players. While this was not Yggdrasil, the Frost Giants in the Azerlisia Mountains looked very much the same, barring their shoddy-looking equipment. It was perhaps due to Ainz’s perception of Frost Giants in Yggdrasil – basically a nuisance trash mob that distracted one from the Ice Dragons that were the main target – that he had not given their presence much thought during his visit to the region.

The Giants came forward, gripping metal poles in either hand. A stone base appeared.

Ah, so this must be the…eh?

Voices of admiration rose around him, but Ainz was overwhelmed in his effort to process what he saw.

W-w-w-w-what the hell is this?! These aren’t pillars for an arch, these are…me? They made statues of me? No, nonononono! Why are they so huge? And the details…they look even better than I do! Do I have a stalker?

It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping open as he gripped the railing of the platform. The Frost Giants continued forward, joined by more who supported the two statues from the sides and the rear. The Gate closed once they cleared it, and they set the statues down on the mounds fashioned for them. Mare pattered forward, using magic to fuse the base of each statue to its foundations.

Applause filled the air. Ainz could only stand stock still as his mortification was suppressed over and over again. What happened to the archway? The flowers? What would people think of a ruler who put such ludicrously large statues of himself in front of the nation’s capital?

No, this isn’t my fault! I didn’t ask…

Shalltear alighted before him, lowering her head in reverence.

“Ainz-sama,” she said. “The representative from the Frost Giant tribes would like to come and pay his respects, arinsu.”

“O-oh…” Ainz cleared his throat, “Very well. Bring him before me.”

Shalltear turned and nodded towards the Frost Giants, who had lined up before the two statues. One that stood a head above the rest came forward. He was clad in midnight black armour that gleamed in the noonday sun. In his hand was a massive, two-handed axe that appeared to be fashioned out of crystalline ice. The Giant smoothly went to a knee, long hair falling about his shoulders as he bowed his head. Even so, he was of a height with the four-metre tall platform.

“Your majesty,” his voice boomed against the walls, “I am Sigurd, son of Sigmund – Champion of the Frostreaver Tribe. On this day, we have come to offer you this tribute…and the eternal loyalty of our people!”

Eh…he has the same name as that quest NPC. I wonder if there’s any connection…

“Umu,” Ainz nodded regally, “That your people have come under my reign pleases me. Tell me, Sigurd, son of Sigmund: what is it that you desire for your people?”

“Glory.”

Ainz’s eyes flared.

“Glory,” Sigurd’s voice rose. “To reclaim the lost strength of our ancestors; to take our rightful place in this world! We will sail every sea; conquer every glacier and berg in your name. Our warriors will flock to your banner in war to bring wrath and ruin to your enemies! We are your servants: from now until the end of days.”

“Hoh…”

After months of cringing, reserved interactions, and fearful reverence, Sigurd’s boldness was a breath of fresh air. It was not the self-serving greed of a petty despot. It was the brilliant ambition of a man reaching out for the glories of the past so they would shine once again in the present and the future.

“Cocytus.”

“Hah.”

“I believe Sigurd and his people are right up your alley.”

Cocytus bent at the waist, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“By your will, Ainz-sama,” he said. “They will be excellent. For the army. Hm…the navy?”

“I will leave that to your discretion,” Ainz said with a wave of his hand, “though we do indeed lack a navy. Spare no effort to develop the capabilities of our armed forces.”

“Hah!”

Following the closing statements of the presentation, Ainz found himself in the company of the Guardians and the Dwarven dignitaries. After another glance at the statues, he addressed the Cabinet Secretary.

“These statues are quite grand,” he said. “While I appreciate the gesture from the Dwarf Kingdom, I hope that resources were not diverted from your ongoing restoration efforts.”

“Ah, no, your majesty,” the Cabinet Secretary replied. “It’d be improper to delay our appreciation for the aid that you so graciously offered us. We were more than happy to get to work on it, and the addition of the Frost Giant artisans moved our schedule forward considerably, as well.”

It didn’t sound like they had used any Undead labour for the project. That was a shame; new applications for the Sorcerous Kingdom’s labour exports would have been welcome for their marketing efforts.

“By the way,” Ainz asked. “Out of all the different possibilities for this monument, was there a reason why you settled on the statues?”

“That’s, erm…at first we thought about making an archway for the city entrance, but Lord Cocytus mentioned something about a statue.”

Huh?

“Mm. Shalltear – she spoke of a statue.”

“I heard it from Momon.”

Ainz’s head snapped over to face Pandora’s Actor.

“…did your majesty not mention something about a modest statue?” The Dark Warrior looked back at him.

Eh? I did? This is my fault? No, wait – how is this ‘modest’?

Something else tugged at him.

“You mentioned the ‘fires of competition’ and the Prime Minister…”

“Yes, your majesty. She’s thrown herself into planning the next set of statues – I hear they’re to be ten times larger.”

Did E-Rantel even have room for multiple one-hundred-metre statues? It was a fortress city – not some sprawling metropolis like the cities of Earth’s past.

“Hmph, she’s just jealous that someone else has made such an excellent tribute ahead of her,” Shalltear placed a hand lightly over her breastplate. “Albedo plans on trying to overwhelm our heartfelt offering, but she won’t deceive anyone with those monstrosities of hers.”

What…what were we talking about again?

“Ah, Ainz-sama,” Shalltear spoke up again. “Before you return, there’s someone I would like to introduce you to, arinsu…ara? Where did she go?”

“Oi~ I found her!”

In a field outside of E-Rantel, Shalltear brushed back the strands of her silver hair being tousled by the wind.

“Where is she?”

“She’s at the grove outside the Adventurer Training Area,” Aura told her.

“Did something happen, arinsu?” Shalltear asked, “To disappear like that is completely unlike her, arinsu.”

“Mmh…you should probably go see for yourself,” Aura turned a suspicious eye on her. “You…you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

“Me? I haven’t forced her to do anything! She’s been depressed beyond measure recently, and it’s a real turn-off. I’m supposed to be the one that–”

“Hoookay, I don’t need to hear that! Anyways, it doesn’t look like she’s going to move from there, so…”

Aura let out a sigh, and Shalltear frowned to herself as she flew off towards the Adventurer Training Area.

Since Baroness Zahradnik’s mysterious and unexpected race change, the once-stoic and intrepid noblewoman had withdrawn into herself. Rather than rejoicing over her newfound immortality as many mortals might, she lamented her lost humanity. She became a quivering ball of uncertainty, remaining almost exclusively within the borders of her demesne. Desperately afraid of what others would think of her, she begged Shalltear not to let anyone know.

What’s so bad about being Undead, anyways? Shalltear huffed.

By and large, the Undead were superior to their mortal counterparts. They weren’t bound by the needs of the living. They didn’t get tired or wear out. Ludmila would no longer physically age and had transitioned into her new existence right as she fully bloomed into adulthood.

Outwardly, the young baroness appeared to perfectly mimic a Human, much to Shalltear’s delight. Like a Vampire, Ludmila’s race enjoyed all of the pleasures that life offered and perhaps, like a Vampire, taste new pleasures unknown to the living. As long as Ludmila didn’t receive any clear and visible injuries and didn’t give away her Undead capabilities, it was impossible to tell the difference.

That was as far as Shalltear could tell so far, anyway. Her once-Human vassal did not match any Undead that she knew of, nor did any racial entry in Peroroncino-sama’s encyclopedia exist that matched beyond some cursory similarities. She had started making an entry of her own, somewhat proud of the idea that she was continuing her creator’s work.

Shalltear landed at the edge of the grove surrounding the Adventurer Training area. It did not take long to find her vassal: she was sitting between the roots of a tree, face buried in her knees.

“Ludmila?” She called out as she approached, “Ludmila? Why did you disappear like that? I thought you were looking forward to finally meeting Ainz-sama in person…”

She knelt and placed a hand on Ludmila’s shoulder, then her eyes widened when she looked up to face her.

“I-I’m sorry, my lady,” a tear rolled down Ludmila’s cheek. “I’m so sorry...”

Her face was flushed, her pupils widened to dark pools within her brown irises. Through her thumb, lightly laid over the side of Ludmila’s neck, Shalltear could feel her warm pulse hammering away. Despite the signs of her excitement, she looked utterly miserable.

Ah–

Ainz-sama almost always wore a Ring of Non-detection to prevent scrying and other attempts at divination, as well as to conceal his overwhelming presence and power from the inhabitants of this world. Unfortunately for Ludmila, the magic item was powerless against her Talent.

Shalltear closed her eyes, recalling her Master’s obsidian radiance – the overflowing font of dark energy that flowed forth from her beloved. There was no way that even a Level 100 Undead being like Shalltear could resist. Her lips turned up slightly, and she gave Ludmila’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“It’s alright,” she said in reassuring tones. “Anyone who doesn’t get wet from that must have something wrong with their heads.”

Night fell over Warden’s Vale, though Ludmila had retired to her home long before the sun lowered itself over the western ridge. She was curled up in bed, lying motionless as she stared at nothing in particular.

She was frightened and confused over her situation, uncertain over what it entailed or what it meant. Even the question of who she was plagued her. Was she Ludmila Zahradnik, or did Ludmila Zahradnik meet her end in the Azerlisia Mountains? If so, was she some sort of impostor? Was there some nefarious reason behind her existence? The weeks that had passed since she discovered her Undead state were mostly uneventful, but they also did nothing to lay any of her worries to rest.

That she didn’t even know what she was frightened her and what the answers might be frightened her all the more. Would she one day lose control of herself to some Undead impulse and indiscriminately attack her own subjects? Would people slowly sicken and grow weaker the longer they remained nearby? Would the life that had come before fade away to be replaced by the being that she now was?

Though she had learned much about the Undead in the past few months, she did not know what being Undead meant. She only realized what changes had occurred over time, and worried over what else she might find out.

One of the first things that Ludmila came to understand was that she had gained some sort of additional sense for negative energy. This sense was far stronger than any feel for the Undead and their environs that regular Humans possessed. She wasn’t sure if it was unique to her or if it was something all Undead had. She could feel other Undead working nearby, as well as the occasional patches of negative energy over the land. This sense appeared to be inexorably tied to her other senses, and she eventually realized why Lady Shalltear appeared as she did after Ludmila became Undead.

The greater the presence of ambient negative energy, the more evident it was in the scenery. The more powerful an Undead being, the greater the ‘aura’ it presented to her senses. It did not obscure her regular eyesight: as with her Truesight, it was simply something she understood was there at the same time.

This brought her to her current crisis. For the first time, she was presented with the opportunity for an audience with the Sorcerer King. The dark radiance that flowed from him was overwhelming, and Ludmila had fled lest she be overwhelmed by the sensations that assailed her.

Awe. Adoration. Arousal.

That last was the worst, and she hated herself for it. Though Lady Shalltear had assured her that it couldn’t be helped, it still felt like a vile betrayal to Ludmila. It would be better if she never saw him again.

With a frustrated noise, she rolled around on her bed. She hid her face in a pillow, trying to exorcise the memory of the Sorcerer King from her mind. It was futile. How could an insignificant individual such as herself push away the existence of an Undead god? A sigh drifted out, and Ludmila turned her head to absently eye the texts arranged on her bed stand.

An Undead god…

Lady Shalltear all but worshipped him, and speculated over whether Ludmila’s current state was due to the Sorcerer King. The Demihuman tribes built altars and made offerings in his name. The Lizardmen called him the god of death. A deity that had descended upon a troubled land, offering the people inviolable sanctuary.

A tear rolled over the bridge of her nose as she wrestled with her feelings, but what she had experienced could not be denied. At the end of it all, she was left with a single, haunting question.

Human souls were the purview of the god of death. If she was indeed still herself, and her soul had been allowed to manifest in its new existence, did that make Ainz Ooal Gown, the Sorcerer King…Surshana?