As the scribe lowered his head, Jircniv suddenly felt the weight sliding off his shoulders.
“…We’ve done a bad thing to the people we brought along, haven’t we?”
That was why he had only just now started to mention the girls who had not been released ever since they had been packed into the carriages.
Originally, the girls were to be offered to Ainz Ooal Gown in order to tie him to the Empire.
Sex was a universal weapon in any place or era. Perhaps the Imperial intelligence agencies should have prepared professional honeytraps, but since the use of magic could potentially complicate things, they had instead selected pure, innocent girls instead.
“Although I think this is disrespectful to the courage they gathered up to bid farewell to their family, don’t you think they should be happy now?”
“Maybe? Being able to gain that monster’s love is a pretty impressive thing.”
“A woman who would gladly make love to such a monster would be very brave.”
Although Baziwood shook his head and said no such people existed, that was a naïve way of thinking. Jircniv could attest to that, being thoroughly familiar with the secret battles that women fought, with his mother poisoning her own husband as an example.
“Women are braver than men think, and they act for passion and gain. There should be no shortage of women out there who are willing to offer their bodies to that skeleton king. In that sense, we’re the ones who should be happy now. After all, one of them might tell Ainz Ooal Gown that we threatened to kill her and her family.”
Although the only response to his words were bitter smiles, Jircniv believed that might actually happen.
Jircniv’s revolution, pushed through with autocratic power and force of arms, had made him a lot of enemies in the nobles he had displaced. Of course, there were some people who approved, but in truth, the people he could really trust were only a few of his close aides and his mentor, Fluder―
Suddenly, a question struck him like a falling feather.
It was about Fluder.
Not only was Fluder his mentor, but he was also a pillar of the Empire and its trump card. He was a man that even Jircniv revered as the highest hero of the Empire. Jircniv was keenly aware that beneath his sage-like face was a near-fanatical desire to explore the depths of magic. It was because of that desire that he had his doubts.
―It was too out of character for Fluder.
Ainz Ooal Gown was a great magic caster that far surpassed Fluder. He could effortlessly create the Death Knights that Fluder could not even control. Then, why had he said nothing and left the tomb with him?
If it were Gramps, he would probably beg that wicked monster for magical knowledge, right? He would genuflect before him and offer everything―
That was a very practical way of thinking.
Everyone had knelt before Demiurge back then. However, it might have just been a distraction to focus their attention on that bizarre situation while he used the opportunity to perform some sort of mind control on Fluder.
He could not imagine Ainz Ooal Gown wanting to take Fluder as a minion. Although Fluder was the Empire’s trump card, when compared to that monster’s power, he was little more than a speck of dust.
However, Fluder’s accumulated knowledge was valuable in and of itself. In addition, if he could take control of Fluder, the Empire’s military power would plummet, and they would lose their finest weapon against Ainz Ooal Gown.
It would be like putting a collar on a slave.
Is this what they’re aiming at? What else is there? Gramps didn’t give any reasons… was it because he already knew? Did he know about Ainz Ooal Gown’s power beforehand?
―In that moment, shock ran through him like a lightning strike.
His sweat flowed like a river.
“You Majesty? Your Majesty? Are you alright? Shall we call a priest―”
“…N-no. No need for that.”
“Eh?”
“I said, there is no need. That’s right… no need.”
Jircniv glanced at his panicked subordinates, and he was once more consumed in a maelstrom of contemplation.
Am I afraid? Me?
His mind was a chaotic mess, and he couldn’t link one thought to another. Or rather, it was more like he didn’t want to link those thoughts together and deliberately avoided them.
No! If I run away from this now, it will only invite disaster upon us! Calm down. I have to calm down. I have to calm down and think.
As his minions’ curious looks focused on him, Jircniv continued to ponder the question.
For starters, let’s consider Gramps. Assuming Gramps already knew about Ainz Ooal Gown’s power… no, if he did know about his power, then his weird actions could be easily explained. So Gramps has some kind of deal going on with that monster ― impossible! Unless…
Jircniv did not have the luxury to worry about the shocked looks on his subordinate’s faces.
No, that’s not right, Jircniv. When Gramps saw the Death Knight, that fear on his face was genuine.
Which is proof that he didn’t know about Ainz Ooal Gown’s power… or not. Maybe, what Gra…
Fluder was not aware of, was that fellow’s ability to control Death Knights. He probably knew about Ainz Ooal Gown ―that incredible magic caster― from the beginning.
It was like putting the pieces of a jigsaw together, to reveal a beautiful ―or horrifying― picture.
So, Fluder knows that monster. From how long ago were they in cahoots? From the beginning?
That’s right. Fluder was involved with every step of this mess, from the discovery of the tomb to the dispatch of the workers.
He had finally made a connection between all the scattered pieces of the puzzle.
When one thought about it that way, most of the mysteries could be brought to light.
“Treachery, is it? Treachery. He’s sold us out.”
The words were spoken like a bitter grudge… or perhaps, like a child crying.
Jircniv slowly turned back to his subordinates. They knew they were not permitted to ask questions, and thus remained silent.
“Fluder Paradyne has betrayed us all. That being the case, what damage will this do to the Empire?
Can we put him in a sinecure and place him under house arrest?”
Everyone could not help but stare at that unbelievable statement.
“How, how is that possible, Your Majesty? This is too much for a joke.”
Uncontrollable anger burned in Jircniv as the acolyte spoke. He wanted to shout, “That’s not what I want to hear” but he held his tongue. The reason he could do that was also because a young Jircniv was saying in his head that he didn’t want to accept those words either.
Jircniv had grown up watching the brutal politics of the dark side of noble society. With that, the adult Jircniv took a deep breath and exhaled the blazing heat in his chest and the burning emotions in his heart.