Legacy of the Plains: Act 2, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Tendrils of darkness disappeared into Ludmila’s outstretched hand, filling her being with a variety of vibrant and familiar sensations.

The resolve to act with violence.

The desperate struggle for survival.

The pain that came with conflict, both physical and emotional.

Even as a Human, it was all something she had long learned to harbour within herself; become accustomed to. Since childhood, she had shared in it all. The patrols that came back with casualties; the loss of friends and family; the resolve to carry on and fight until one’s dying breath. To kill or be killed.

As she took in the sensations – the emotional imprint of deaths that she had ordered in the battle of the upper reaches – Ludmila supposed she was never what one might consider a good person.

She fulfilled her duties in ways that tended to drive fear into the hearts of others. Was it a strange vice that she subconsciously enjoyed? Probably not – it was simply the way she was raised to fight. She was the product of generations of hard lessons on the frontier: where her house and its people had fought a long, unrecognized war in the shadows.

As a result, sowing death appeared to be the one thing that she excelled at above all else…and now it seemed that she could reap it.

She closed her outstretched hand, lowering it to her side. Was it even necessary? At first, she feared that the battles in the wilderness would turn the area into a wasteland filled with the Undead. Her fears were unfounded, however. Throughout the time that the Linum sisters organized anti-Undead patrols, nothing of note had been reported.

Nature was more resilient than she had given it credit for. Like the Zurrernorn members she spoke to had mentioned, it took a lot to throw off the balance. The remains of every single Demihuman camp that she had destroyed were already well on their way to being reclaimed. What she was doing now just seemed like she was expediting things rather than fixing them.

Ludmila took a deep breath, trying once again to figure out what absorbing this negative energy meant. She had been wandering up and down for days, with no discernible change to show for it.

No, that wasn’t quite right. As she made her rounds, she grew aware of something manifesting – something along the lines of an Ability or a Skill. As long as it lay within her realm of responsibility, she could sense negative energy. It didn’t matter how minute or remote it was, she could pinpoint it at any time, from any location.

Rather than anything that felt suited to one of the Undead – some dark ability that was the stuff of nightmares – it was more like the uncanny ability of her household staff to detect dust in the most obscure and hard to reach places of her manor. Rather than naming her Warden, they should have probably called her a Maid. An Undead Maid. A Death Maid.

Maybe I should report to Miss Alpha for training, she mused to herself.

Ludmila didn’t feel any particular compulsion to go after any of it, but it didn’t hurt to pick up if it was on the way.

Though her thoughts on this aspect of her new nature were decidedly casual, she was still slowly developing an appreciation for what it meant. Ilyshn’ish’s outburst during their investigation was particularly shocking – it was the closest she had ever witnessed the Frost Dragon come to expressing something like genuine concern. Even so, it felt alien to her. It was as if Ilyshn’ish was not worried for Ludmila personally, but worried about some greater thing that Ludmila had no awareness of.

For her part, Ludmila only understood that she was something of a paradox. She was an Undead being, yet unlike the naturally-manifested Undead that acted to propagate negative energy to create more Undead, she did the opposite. A walking countermeasure against the advance of negative energy ecologies. Something like a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

Did that make her the natural enemy of the Undead, despite being one of the Undead? His Majesty’s Undead servitors didn’t seem to react to her any differently than before. Though she had not visited recently, Lady Shalltear only appeared to be pleased over her new existence. Granted, Ludmila had not submitted any of her recent findings to her liege yet, but natural reactions to rivals, predators and competitors tended to be easily discernible.

Arriving at the remains of the next camp, Ludmila felt the familiar sensations suffuse into her body as she stepped into its midst.

I should formally claim this place already – I’m already taking care of it.

How would the Slane Theocracy react? Clara managed the Sorcerous Kingdom’s current standing border with their neighbour to the south, and there had been no incidents to speak of. She had an advantage in the fact that she ruled over a completely Human population that shared the same faith, however. If Ludmila extended her management over the upper reaches, her protection would extend over hundreds of Demihuman tribes.

Would the Theocracy still move to suppress nonhuman populations in their area, despite said nonhumans being members of an officially recognized state? What would she do if they did? The question left a sour taste in her mouth, one that was by far more disagreeable than absorbing the negative energy imprint of thousands of obliterated Demihumans.

She hoped that it wouldn’t happen, but each nation had its own agendas. Just as Ludmila did what she thought was best for her territory, so should the leaders of any population. The Slane Theocracy had taken on the additional burden of being caretakers of humanity and had long acted to assist the younger Human nations around it. For now, they maintained strict neutrality when it came to their relations with the Sorcerous Kingdom, but there was no telling when that might change.

The Scripture members she had encountered seemed reasonable enough – friendly even. They were more curious than fearful and empathized with many of her concerns. A part of her wanted to believe that everyone from the Theocracy was like that. According to Clara – who had been on several pilgrimages to the south – it was merely the sort of behaviour they displayed towards fellow adherents of the faith.

Once, when House Zahradnik only ruled over Humans, this would have meant the same thing to her either way. Now, she was left to puzzle out what she could do to eliminate the risk of cross-border incidents. Keeping open lines of communication seemed the surest way to prevent misunderstandings and de-escalate any situations that arose. Despite their neutral stance, however, the Slane Theocracy had not sent any ambassadors to the Sorcerous Kingdom.

It may have been because the Temples were an institution that influenced all aspects of life in the Theocracy. They may have been treating Temples in the Duchy of E-Rantel the same way. Bishop Austine didn’t have anywhere near the political or economic clout attributed to a Bishop in the Theocracy, however. He simply reported to his superiors, made recommendations where he was legally entitled, and did his best to manage the resurgent numbers of the faithful.

Perhaps Ludmila needed to set something up on her own. It was long past time for her demesne to receive temple staff. Even a local temple branch that kept couriers and pilgrims flowing over the border would be better than what she currently had access to. With the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Undead patrols, it would be safe enough.

Ludmila made her way eastwards, following the old wilderness trail that led over the southeastern pass to the Theocracy. Her senses led her towards another patch of negative energy, high above the places that the Goblin Army occupied. It was from an older conflict, its remaining vestiges already on the verge of being cleansed by nature. No physical traces of what had occurred could be detected.

The sensations that came with the residual traces of negative energy, however, were well worn and familiar.

The resolve to act with violence.

The struggle for life.

The pain of injury; the pain of loss.

No matter who they were, it seemed, the conflicts of the living left the same impressions. She wondered if the place where she stood was the site of some act of Demihuman suppression by the forces of the Theocracy. It was just the sort of thing she would now have to be wary of.

『Lady Zahradnik?』

A familiar voice sounded in her head, and Ludmila raised a hand to her ear out of habit.

『Yes?』

『This is Pestonya. I’ve called to inform you that we’re about to begin our preparations.』

『Is it that time already? I must have lost track somehow…』

『The sessions for the morning ended early. We’re at Corelyn Manor at the moment – I can open a Gate for you if you wish…wan.』

『That would be wonderful, Miss Pestonya. Thank you very much.』

It was time. Ludmila took a deep breath, trying to settle the sudden nerves that rose out of the depths of her being. A moment later, a dark line slashed across the air, expanding into the familiar portal of the Gate spell. Taking one last look around, she allowed herself a satisfied nod before stepping through.

Stamp.

Flip.

…

Stamp.

Flip.

…

Sta–huh?

Ainz Ooal Gown, the Sorcerer King, barely caught himself before stamping his desk. The crimson points of his eyes scanned the polished surface before he cleared his throat.

“Albedo.”

“Yes, Ainz-sama?”

“Today’s workload appears to be quite light.”

“Indeed, Ainz-sama,” Albedo replied serenely. “With the approach of the autumn harvest season, both city businesses and the local leaders habitually get their affairs in order. I would not say that it’s an unwelcome thing, but one would rather that they stay on top of things in a more uniform manner.”

Crunch time, eh…wait, does that mean I’ve caught up?

“I suppose things might have become onerous for you, hm?”

“Not at all, Ainz-sama! Though domestic matters have settled down somewhat, the recommendations we’ve made regarding the Imperial Legions have required a delicate balancing act.”

“I recall that Jircniv was quite shocked when you proposed them. You mentioned that they were cooperating…has something changed in the state of affairs between us?”

Though her smile remained pristine, Albedo’s voice seemed to curl into a sneer.

“Nothing of the sort, Ainz-sama,” she replied. “It’s just that Humans are such a needy and wasteful species. If it wasn’t for your intent for the Baharuth Empire to become a model protectorate, I would have simply ordered everyone involved to crawl into their holes and die. They can always breed more later.”

“Mah, we can afford a little bit of patience, no?” He made a casual sweep of his hand, “We’re trying to cultivate the best possible results here.”

“Of course. It is as you say, Ainz-sama. They are as maggots squirming helplessly in the palm of your hand.”

Don’t put maggots in my palm, please.

Despite all that had happened, it seemed that Albedo held firm to her stance against outsiders in general. There were next to none that weren’t deficient in some aspect of their personality or capability. Would it ever change? He could only hope. Never mind finding friends for his friends’ children, he couldn’t even find colleagues for this particular child.

“Speaking of cultivated results, Demiurge should be advancing on the Holy Kingdom soon, shouldn’t he?”

“Yes, Ainz-sama,” Albedo replied, “he’s truly outdone himself this time. All relevant species have been analyzed, useful ones have been set aside and prepared for integration into the Sorcerous Kingdom. Problematic races have been gathered into the Demon Emperor’s army. He has even managed to secure a plentiful and willing supply of cheap, high-quality equipment for them.”

“What of the other nations in the region?”

“There’s no indication that they suspect anything. The Elves of Evansha are preoccupied with their own matters. The Slane Theocracy has no cause to connect Jaldabaoth to us. Re-Estize remains ignorant as always. Due to Demiurge’s machinations, the Demon Emperor has been made to be an enemy of all. Everything is going according to plan.”

“Umu.”

In other words, this would be his only chance. Once Demiurge set his plan into motion, Ainz would have to begin preparing for his role in it all. He had some of his own ideas to add, as well…

“Have we learned anything of the Holy Kingdom’s Paladins?” He asked, “Demiurge indicated it highly likely that the delegation they send to us would be headed by them. Followers of the Four Elemental Gods are vehemently opposed to the Undead and their holy warriors might be particularly zealous. Enough to complicate our plans.”

Albedo snorted dismissively.

“Hmph. If those could be called ‘Paladins’, then we may as well put one of Kyouhukou’s summons on a horse and call it a Blackguard. We do have a case study on what the locals consider Paladins inbound, however. A contingent from the Slane Theocracy has been pre-approved for entry. Though they are not of the same religion, we should be able to prepare an appropriate response to the main event by using them as a rough model for our expectations.”

There’s really nothing to do, huh…then there’s nothing to do but to do it.

Ainz put his completed work aside and rose from his seat. The sentries around the room redoubled their vigilance, and the maid on duty grew sharply attentive. He mustered up an appropriately authoritative tone.

“In that case, thank you for your hard work, Albedo. Since things should be quiet for the next little while, I will be attending to a matter that I have set aside for far too long. Clear my schedule – I am not to be disturbed until I return.”

Albedo lowered her head in reverence.

“By your command, Ainz-sama.”

Ainz strode at a stately pace out of the office and through the corridor. He stopped by his bedroom to pick up several books he had left on the nightstand. Unlike the cerebral texts that he usually placed there, these were ones he had keenly perused over the last few weeks.

They were records translated from the Adventurer Guild and the Imperial Legions, as well as tales compiled from local lore. Stories of a lush and fertile land that had abruptly fallen to shadow, never to recover. The Katze Plains. The more Ainz read about it, the more he wanted to go. There were so many conflicting tales about the place that it was impossible to tell truth from fable.

Excitement over what he would discover threatened to disturb his regal gait. A few things were agreed upon by most. First was that an ancient metropolis lurked somewhere in the mists. The second was that there was an Elder Lich who captained some sort of ghost ship…something like a Flying Dutchman? If he could get his hands on that Elder Lich, he would finally have an intelligent Undead of this world to study.

He couldn’t go alone, of course, despite it being an Undead-infested area. Because it was an Undead-infested area, however, the choice of his escort was clear. Ainz cast a Message spell, raising a hand to his head.

『Shalltear.』

『A-Ainz-sama? There is something you require my assistance with?』