Overlord

Herd of Predators

Part 1

"What kind of food is this!?"

A shrill, nigh-hysterical voice cut through the air, and then the sound of crashing cutlery echoed through the dining room.

Several people turned to look at the girl who was kicking up a fuss.

The girl was so beautiful that using the word to describe her seemed inadequate. Her looks could rival those of the Kingdom's most beautiful woman — the one with the appellation of "Golden" — and her anger only added to her charm.

In addition, every move she made was elegant and refined, even while throwing a tantrum.

She must have been nobility in some country, the heiress to a highborn family. She flicked at her long French curls in annoyance, and glared at the food before her in dissatisfaction.

All manner of dishes packed the table before her.

There were freshly-baked loaves of bread, still steaming in their basket. The plates were laden with thick, rare cuts of juicy red meat, served with sweetcorn and buttered mashed potatoes. The sight of them stimulated the appetite. The fresh vegetables which made up the salad were still crisp and soft, and their fragrant dressing filled the room with a citrus scent.

The highest-class inn in E-Rantel — the Shining Golden Pavilion — used 「Preservation」 magic to keep their ingredients fresh. Naturally, only the finest of chefs were allowed to turn said ingredients into meals.

However, despite the best efforts of the most skilled chefs that used the finest ingredients to produce culinary works of art — which only nobility, royalty, or the wealthiest of merchants would be privileged enough to taste — the girl turned her nose up at the plates before her.

It was only natural to feel shocked by her complaint, but beyond that, the people who heard her also felt curiosity about what she normally ate.

"It tastes horrible!"

The words she uttered after that were singularly inappropriate for this place, and they left everyone in the room speechless.

However, the old butler behind the girl kept his expression neutral and did not change his stance Even when the girl turned and glared at him, he remained unmoved, as though he could not make any other facial expressions.

"Ahhhh, I can't bear to stay in this run-down city any further! We're setting out now!"

"But Young Mistress, it's already evening—"

"Silence! I said we're going, so we're going, do you understand me!?"

Only after hearing the girl's childish tantrum did the butler's posture change. He lowered his head and replied:

"Understood, Young Mistress. I shall begin travel preparations immediately."

"Hmph! If you understand, then hurry up and get ready, Sebas!"

The girl tossed away the fork she was holding and rose to her feet, before flouncing out of the dining room. She was still fuming as she did so.

After the storm had passed, a solemn, dignified voice lightened the heavy mood in the room:

"I apologize to everyone for the disturbance."

The butler picked up the chair which the girl had knocked over and replaced it, then bowed deeply to everyone in the dining room as a sign of contrition. Quite a few of them accepted the old man's immaculate apology with pitying eyes.

"—Innkeeper."

"Yes."

A man who had been waiting in the wings approached the butler.

"Once again, I apologize for startling everyone. Though I know it will not excuse this offense, I hope you will allow me to pay for the meals of everyone here."

Looks of delight bloomed on the faces of several of the diners as they heard those words. A meal in a first-rate inn like this would certainly not be cheap. If this old man was willing to pay for their food, that would be a good enough reason to forgive that girl.

On the other hand, the innkeeper's face remained impassive as he bowed politely in response to the butler's proposal. That natural reaction of his was proof that scenes like this had been seen many times, ever since this pair of master and servant had taken up lodgings at the Shining Golden Pavilion.

Sebas looked toward a corner of the dining hall, at a destitute-looking man shoveling food into his mouth. As the man noticed Sebas's eyes on him, he rose to his feet and quickly walked towards Sebas.

Compared to the other guests, the man seemed completely out of place. He lacked both style and class, and so he stood out from everyone around him.

Although his clothes were no shabbier than those of the people nearby, they did not go well on him. In fact, it was quite comical — like a clown in fancy dress.

"Master Sebas."

"What is it, Zack-san?"

However, Sebas's expression remained unchanged.

"As a hired man, I have no room to propose an alternative… but would it not be better to reconsider the decision to set off immediately?"

"Are you saying you have difficulty driving a wagon at night?"

"That is one of the reasons, and… I have some… other business to take care of."

Zack scratched his head over and over again. Though his hair looked clean enough, the way he was scratching made it seem like he was going to start throwing off flakes of skin. Quite a few people's frowns deepened further. However, whether he had noticed or not, he ended up scratching even harder.

"However, the Young Mistress will most likely not accept that suggestion. Or rather, given the Young Mistress's personality, she will not change her earlier decision."

With a steely, unyielding look on his face, Sebas concluded:

"Therefore, we have no choice but to set out."

"But…"

Zack's eyes darted around, looking for some other excuse to give. However, he found none, and he grimaced.

"Of course, we will not be leaving right away. We will need some time to load the Young Mistress's luggage onto the wagon. During that time, please prepare for our departure."

Sebas noted the wily gleam in the eyes of the impoverished-looking man before him as he scrabbled for something to say. However, Sebas did not show any signs that he cared.

This was all to cover up the fact that all was going as planned.

"Then, when will we be leaving?"

"How about two, maybe three hours later? If we leave later than that, the streets will be shrouded in darkness. That is probably the limit."

That disgusting, calculative look appeared in the man's eyes again. Sebas once again pretended that he had not noticed it. After l.i.c.k.i.n.g his lips several times, Zack replied:

"Hehe, that should be fine."

"Excellent. Then, can I ask you to begin preparing right away?"

♦ ♦ ♦

As he watched Zack's retreating figure, Sebas waved his hand, as though to clear the air around him. It seemed polluted somehow, and it clung to him.

Sebas — his face a mask of neutrality — fought the urge to sigh.

Frankly speaking, Sebas had no love for such despicable characters. Perhaps his colleagues Demiurge and Shalltear could derive some minor amus.e.m.e.nt from these people by treating them like toys, but Sebas did not want to let people like that near himself.

There were some shared opinions in the Great Tomb of Nazarick, such as, "Everything which does not belong to Nazarick is an inferior lifeform," and "Other than a rare few exceptions, humans and demihumans are weaklings that must be trampled." Sebas operated by his creator's credo that "those who do not save the weak cannot call themselves strong," and thus he had his doubts about those opinions. However, he began to feel that there might be some truth to them when he met wretched individuals like Zack.

"Good grief. Humans should be an outstanding species…"

After raising his hand to stroke his neatly-trimmed moustache, he turned his thoughts to what he should do next.

The plan was going quite well. However, he still needed to confirm the details with his observer.

Just as Sebas was thinking about the direction in which he would proceed, he noticed a man approaching him.

"It must be quite hard on you to have to set out at this time."

The person addressing him was a clean-shaven man in his late forties. His black hair was streaked with white, and due to age and heavy meals, his pot belly was soft and rounded.

"Bardo-san, I presume?"

Sebas dipped his head in acknowledgement. The man (Bardo) extended a hand to stop him.

"Ah, no, no, there's no need for such formality."

The man called Bardo Lofley was a merchant, who controlled a large portion of the grain trade in this city. For some reason, he had come over and begun speaking to Sebas.

The Fortress City was a strategic location in war. Bardo was heavily involved in the food trade here, which made him quite a big figure among the city's many merchants.

Once one had a fighting force of over ten thousand men, feeding them became a task which consumed great amounts of time and manpower. Therefore, the Kingdom's policy on that matter was to march their troops to this city with minimum rations, whereupon they would resupply upon arrival. Therefore, merchants who dealt in food and weapons were quite influential in this place, unlike regular cities.

Anyone in E-Rantel with such power would never chat up someone else simply because they were eating in the same restaurant. Therefore, he must have had some motive for reaching out to Sebas.

Still, Sebas had been expecting this.

"Sebas-san, that person's not a good sort."

"Is he?"

Sebas's expression changed for the first time as he smiled while answering courteously. His response implied that he knew exactly who Bardo was referring to.

"He's not a trustworthy fellow. I have no idea why you would employ someone like him, Sebas-san."

Sebas thought quickly, looking for the answer which was most appropriate to the present circ.u.mstances.

He could not tell the other man the true reasons behind hiring Zack. However, if he said that he had hired Zack because he was a nobody, Sebas would look bad in the eyes of others and their opinions of him would suffer.

Although they had decided to leave this city, he wanted to avoid Bardo thinking poorly of him. In the future, they might need to make use of the man.

"That might be correct, but nobody has sold himself the way he does. Granted, his personality is flawed, but the Young Mistress appreciates his passion."

Bardo smiled uncomfortably, and his opinion of the young mistress in question fell by another notch.

She was there for precisely that purpose, so it could not be helped, but Sebas still found it difficult have her take the blame for this.

"I fear I have gone too far. I hope you will remove those words from your memory; though I would still suggest that you try to persuade your mistress otherwise."

"There might be merit in your words. However, when I think of the Young Mistress's father; that is to say, the kindness that he showed me, I simply cannot…"

"Of course, loyalty is important…"

Bardo's voice trailed off, and the rest was unintelligible.

"In that case, would you like me to send a few reliable men along with you?"

"There is no need for you to go to such lengths for us."

Those words may have been spoken with kindness and warmth, but they were an ironclad denial. Perhaps Bardo sensed the firm determination hidden within that reply, which was why he decided to try a different angle of approach.

"Is that so? I personally feel it would be better to be escorted by competent bodyguards. The way to the Royal Capital is long, and unlike the Empire, the roads of the Kingdom are not very safe. I could recommend some reliable mercenaries."

The security of the roads in the Kingdom fell to the nobles who owned the land through which those roads passed. In turn, they would collect a toll from travellers. This was the privilege of the nobles, but in truth, it was little more than a means of collecting a road tax, and the security of the roads was riddled through with holes in many places. It was quite common for travellers to meet brigands or sellswords who had turned to banditry while on the road.

In an effort to solve this problem, the "Golden Princess" had worked hard to have the roads patrolled by guardsmen loyal to the Crown. However, there were far too few of these patrolmen for the plan to have any effect. In addition, the nobles were worried that their privileges would be infringed upon, and worked to get in the patrolmen's way.

In the end, the situation was one where the country could not ensure the safety of its own roads.

Therefore, travelling merchants typically hired adventurers or a band of trusted mercenaries to defend themselves. A powerful and prestigious person like Bardo would surely know of well-trained and reliable mercenaries. However, Sebas could not accept his offer.

"Indeed, you might be right to say so. However, the Young Mistress does not like having people by her side, and so I am bound to comply with her requests as much as possible."

"Is that so?"

Bardo was now frowning in an exaggerated manner, a troubled expression on his face. This was how an a.d.u.l.t would react in the face of a child throwing a tantrum.

"I apologize for having to reject your kindness."

"Please don't say that. In truth, I wanted to do you a favor, with the hopes of building a stronger relationship with you."

Sebas and company had lodged in this inn under the backstory of being an heiress and her faithful butler who hailed from a city in some part of the Empire. They had then shown the ample purchasing power such a background would merit, in order to see how the people around them would react. The favor Bardo wanted to do was calculated to ingratiate himself with such wealthy people.

Sebas smiled gently at the fish which had taken the bait:

"I will relay your kindness to the Young Mistress's father (my master), Bardo-san."

A faint gleam crept into Bardo's eyes, but he swiftly concealed it. Normal people would not have perceived that momentary glittering. However, that brief exposure was more than enough for Sebas to notice it.

"Then, though I apologize for my rudeness, I must make a move first, for the Young Mistress is waiting."

Sebas took the initiative before Bardo could speak.

Bardo — who had been seen through — blinked and studied Sebas's expression briefly, before sighing:

"—Hm, it can't be helped, then. Sebas-san, when you come to this city again, please look for me. I will welcome you warmly."

"Very well. When the time comes, we will be in your care."

As he watched Bardo leave, Sebas muttered to himself:

"Humans really are a varied bunch."

Sebas could sense that Bardo's actions were not purely motivated by personal gain. He was genuinely concerned for the girl and her butler.

It was because of people like these, who wanted to help those in need, that he could not bring himself to hate humanity.

An unforced smile bloomed on Sebas's face.

♦ ♦ ♦

Sebas knocked several times, announced himself, and then entered the room.

"Forgive my unsightly conduct from earlier, Sebas-sama."

As Sebas closed the door after himself, a bowing girl greeted him. Anyone who had witnessed the scene in the dining room from earlier would probably be stunned, because the girl who greeted him was the selfish, temperamental, tantrum-throwing heiress from just now.

She had a serious expression on her face, as though her hysterics from just now had been nothing more than an act.

Her attitude was one which a subordinate would use to greet a superior.

Her clothes and her face were the same, but it seemed as though she were a completely different person.

Another thing was that she had one eye — her left eye — closed. She had not closed that eye while she was in the dining hall.

"There is no need to apologize. You were simply doing your job."

Sebas looked around the luxurious suite. Of course, it was hardly impressive to Sebas, who was in charge of the Ninth Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. His lack of surprise was simply because it was a poor choice for comparison.

From what he could see, there were stacks of luggage in the corner of the room. They were packed and ready for travel, and not by Sebas. The preparations had been completed by the only other person in the room.

"I'll tidy up the rest."

"What are you saying, Sebas-sama? How could I possibly inconvenience you any further?"

The girl who raised her head to answer him was one of the battle maids (Pleiades) — Solution Epsilon.

"Really now? But I am playing the role of your butler now, am I not?"

There was a mischievous grin on Sebas's wrinkled face.

After seeing Sebas's smile, Solution's face changed for the first time, to an uncomfortable smile.

"Indeed, you are my butler for now. However, I am also your subordinate, Sebas-sama."

"…Well, that's true, then, as your superior, I shall issue an order to you: your tasks are complete, and it is my turn to work. Rest here until we set out."

"…Yes. Thank you."

"Then, I shall go meet Shalltear-sama on the coach and inform her when we are leaving. She must be getting tired of waiting."

Sebas easily lifted up one of the biggest pieces of luggage before suddenly speaking, as though he had just thought of something.

"Speaking of which, is he moving as we expected?"

"Yes, all is proceeding as predicted."

Solution pressed the skin which covered her tightly-shut eye.

"That's good to hear. Then, what's his situation?"

"Yes — currently, he is meeting with a dishevelled-looking man. Do you wish to hear what they are saying?"

"There is no need for that. I'll be moving the luggage, so give me a summary report afterwards."

"Understood."

Solution's face suddenly twisted.

The corners of her eyes dropped while her mouth curved upwards. While it vaguely resembled a smile, the contortions required to produce such an expression would be impossible for a human being to achieve. Perhaps it would be better to describe it as a distorted face made of clay.

"—Ah, that's right. Sebas-sama, please permit me to change the topic."

"What is it, Solution?"

"…After all this is over, may I dispose of that man?"

Sebas freed up a hand to stroke his moustache and considered the matter.

"—Only with Shalltear-sama's permission. However, if she allows it, you may do as you please."

Solution's forehead furrowed slightly, the disappointment on her face speaking for herself. As though to comfort her, Sebas continued speaking:

"It'll be fine. Giving you one human should not be a problem."

"Is that so? I understand. Then, please tell Shalltear-sama that I would like that man, if possible."

Solution was all smiles. That sunny, cheerful expression would entrance anyone who saw it.

Sebas simultaneously pitied and wanted to know more about the man who could put a look like that on Solution's face. Therefore, he asked her:

"What did that man say?"

"Oh, something about 'I can't wait to have fun with her,' so since these chances are hard to come by, I intend to have fun with him as well."

Solution's smile beamed ever brighter.

That smile — as innocent as a child's — looked forward to what would come next.

Part 2

A pitiful life.

As Zack moved with hurried steps, he thought about how pitiful his life had been.

He had been born to a farmer's family in a village of the Kingdom. It could not be considered a happy life by any stretch of the word.

The fruits of their hard labor were taken away by the lord of the land. If he took sixty percent of their harvest, it might still be bearable. They could still live on the remaining forty percent, albeit in poverty.

However, if he took eighty percent of their harvest, they would be in big trouble. It was hard enough to survive on forty percent of the crops. If they only had twenty percent left, their lives would be extremely difficult.

During that year when they had only been allowed to keep twenty percent of their harvest, Zack returned home, exhausted from a day of hard fieldwork, and found that his little sister was missing.

At that time, Zack was young and did not know what was going on. His beloved little sister had disappeared, yet his parents had not gone looking for her. Zack understood now that she had probably been sold off. Slavery was now outlawed through the efforts of the "Golden Princess," but at that time it had been quite widespread throughout the Kingdom.

Therefore, whenever Zack went whoring and passed a hooker, he could not help but look at the girl's face. Of course, he did not think he would actually be able to find his little sister, and even if he did find her, he did not know what he would say to her. Even so, he could not help but keep looking.

And amidst this miserable life of poverty, he had been conscripted.

The Kingdom periodically mobilized its armies against the Empire, and when it did so, the Kingdom would round up all the able-bodied men in the villages and send them to the battlefield. The absence of their strong young men for a month had dire consequences for the villages. However, some people were grateful for this conscription.

After all, the less mouths to feed, the less food the families would need. In addition, the young conscripts would be fed by the Kingdom. For some, it might be the first time they had ever eaten their fill.

Still, that was all the merit that situation held. No matter how hard a man fought, he would not be rewarded unless he had made outstanding accomplishments. No, sometimes these men would not be rewarded no matter what they did. Only the lucky would be rewarded. Then, when they returned to their villages, they still had to face the despondent reality that the harvest was poor, because there had been too few hands to take it in.

Zack had been conscripted twice, but his third tour of duty had seen his fortunes change.

That war had been the same as all the others, ending after a few minor skirmishes. Zack, who had held onto his life, was about to head home when he stopped. He looked at the weapon in his hand, and it was as though he had received a sign from the heavens.

Instead of returning to his village, would it not be better to choose a different way of life?

Still, Zack was a mere farmer with just a bit of basic training. He had little choice in what sort of new life he could lead.

He did not possess exceptional physical abilities, nor did he possess a talent, a special ability that was only possessed by a few special people. His learning was largely related to farming — when to sow which seeds and so on.

What Zack decided to do pertained to the sole trump card he possessed; in other words, running away with the weapon that the Kingdom had temporarily issued him. He had not considered the difficulties it would cause for his parents because they had sold off his little sister — even if it was to keep the rest of the family alive — and thus he did not love his parents.

But how could someone who did not know the land or have any backers desert so easily? In the end, he managed to find people to help him, which was fortunate, in a sense.

The people who aided him in deserting were a band of sellswords.

Of course, a farmer like Zack was hardly of any use to a mercenary band. However, the band had lost many of its members during the war, and their aim was to replenish their numbers as soon as possible.

This was the reason why the mercenary band let him join so easily. However, they were not a proper, law-abiding organization. While they fought as mercenaries in wartime, during peacetime they were essentially bandits.

After that, Zack led a life filled with unspeakable deeds.

Having was better than not having. Taking was better than being taken from. Making others weep was better than weeping himself

This was the life Zack lived.

He did not feel it was wrong, nor did he regret it.

His faith in that grew ever deeper every time he heard the wails of the oppressed.

♦ ♦ ♦

Zack ran through the pauper's district. He ran toward a world that was a deeper red than the setting sun.

Having run continuously ever since leaving the inn, he was panting heavily and his forehead was covered in sweat. His building fatigue made him want to stop, and he wondered if he should take a break. However, time was tight, and so Zack spurred his tired body forward and continued running.

Just then, as Zack took a sharp turn—

"That was close~" mumbled the figure on the other side of the corner as it somersaulted away, accompanied by the clattering of metal.

A startled Zack looked at the black shape which had leapt clear.

She was a pretty girl. She wore a black cape which made her seem to blend into the shadows, but her shiny purple eyes, filled with curiosity, were looking straight at Zack.

Tired and out of patience, Zack yelled at her.

"That's my line! It's dangerous! Watch where you're going!"

The girl did not seem afraid of Zack's ranting. Instead, she smiled coldly.

That spine-chilling smile made Zack retreat instinctively, without the courage to so much as draw his weapon. It was like a lion glaring at a mouse.

Perhaps the sound of metal he heard when the girl had leapt back came from the armor she was wearing.

An armed and armored girl — perhaps she was an adventurer.

He had picked the wrong person to antagonize.

Danger sirens blared through Zack's head, and at the same time he thought of something.

He did not look down on her as weak because she was a woman. Zack knew that there was an adventurer team composed purely of strong women. The strongest man in the mercenary band he belonged to had brought it up once.

On the other hand, Zack might have been a mercenary, but he was one of the weakest members of their fighting men. This was why he had been given a job like this.

He was covered in sweat from running, and as Zack began regretting what he had done, it quickly became another type of sweat altogether.

Just as a look of fear completely covered Zack's face, the girl's smile lost its frightening quality.

"Hm~ Ah well, forget it. I don't have time for this. Still, if I run into you again, you're going to have a bad time~"

The girl went around him, leaving those words behind. Interested, Zack turned to watch as she left. He mused that the place in front of him was an uninhabited part of the pauper's district.

What was a beautiful woman doing out here so late? The thought piqued his curiosity, but he had something more important waiting for him, so he cut his introspection short and moved on.

Soon, he arrived in the pauper's district, at a corner which was filled with many run-down houses. He looked around to see if anyone was following him.

The sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, painting the world in shades of black, so Zack focused on whether anyone was hiding in dark corners. He had already checked several times before now, but just to be safe, he took one last look.

Zack nodded in satisfaction, and as he got his breathing under control, he knocked thrice on a door. After waiting five seconds, he knocked four more times.

After giving the prearranged signal, he received an immediate response. The creaking of wood came from the other side of the door, and the wooden shutter which blocked the peephole slid out of the way. Zack could see a man's eyes on the other side of the door, looking him up and down and verifying his identity.

"It's you. Ah, wait a minute."

Without waiting for Zack's reply, the man slid the peephole shut, and that sound was followed by that of a heavy lock disengaging. The door cracked open slightly.

"Come in."

There was a faint scent of rot coming from within the room, which was as far removed from the place Zack had been as the heavens were from the earth. Hoping that his nose could get used to the smell, Zack nimbly wriggled into the room.

Once the door shut, he saw that the interior was tiny and dark.

The door led directly to the kitchen and dining room, which was furnished with a table. There was a candle on the table, whose feeble light somewhat dispelled the darkness of the room.

A filthy man who looked like he dealt in violence for a living pulled up a nearby chair and took a seat. The chair creaked as he sat on it, as though m.o.a.ning in pain. The man was heavily muscled and had a barrel c.h.e.s.t, and the exposed parts of his arms and his face were lightly scarred. The chair looked like it was going to give way under his weight.

"Oh, Zack. What's wrong, what happened?"

"There's been a change in the situation… The prey is preparing to move."

"Ah — so we'll have to make our move as well."

Zack nodded silently. The man quietly grumbled, "Why now… can't they think of us a little?" as he reached up to scratch his messy hair.

"Can't you delay them somehow?"

"That'll be difficult, because it was that woman's request."

The man had already heard Zack talk about that woman several times, and he frowned deeply.

"That old man should use his brains a little and try to talk her down. The roads at night are nasty places to be, with scary bandits showing up and all. Give me a break… even an idiot knows about that sort of thing. Ah, how about sabotaging a coach wheel and dragging out the departure until tomorrow?"

"That won't work — he's already loading the luggage. It would be better to act quickly, right?"

"Mm, that's true…"

The man stared into the air as he thought.

"Then, when are they moving out?"

"In about two hours."

"That'll be cutting it really close. Ah — what should I do. I'll need to contact the others after this… with only two hours… it'll be hard, but they're prize catches…"

The man twiddled his thumbs as he considered how much time the entire process would take. Zack simply listened to his musings in silence, looking down at his hands.

"Rich people like that piss you off, right…"

Zack thought of the delicate, dainty hands of the girl who was addressed as the Young Mistress.

Nobody who worked on a farm would have hands as pretty as that. Their skin was split from icy water and thickened by swinging a hoe, and even their nails grew gnarled. A farmer's hands were like that.

He knew well that the world was unfair. However—

The corner of Zack's mouth twisted up in a l.e.w.d smile that bared his teeth.

"Can I have some fun with that woman?"

"You'll have to wait for us to finish first, and since we're going to ransom her off, you can't go too far! Don't hurt her too badly."

The man sneered in lasciviously. Perhaps it was because of his rising d.e.s.i.r.e, but he suddenly got to his feet.

"All right, we'll do it. I'll contact the chief."

"Got it."

"We'll send about ten guys ahead to the usual place to ambush them. You should move too and get them there in about four hour's time. If you haven't arrived by then, we'll make the first move. So keep the prey obedient and lower their guard."

Part 3

A stagecoach galloped away from the Fortress City.

It was a large vehicle that could comfortably seat six people, pulled by a quartet of horses.

The disc of the full moon shone in the night sky, illuminating the land with surprising brightness. That said, racing at full speed through the night was still a foolish course of action. The wisest course of action would have been to pitch tents, light lanterns, and post sentries while they spent the night here.

The world at night was not under mankind's control. No, that would not be entirely accurate — no place without light could be considered part of humanity's world. The night concealed all manner of animals, demihumans, and monsters. Many creatures possessed the gift of darkvision, and these creatures often attacked humanity.

Still, the passengers in the stagecoach barely felt their vehicle galloping through the perilous night.

This was not because of good shock absorbers or the like, but because the coach was travelling along a cobblestoned road.

The paving of roads had begun after the suggestion of the "Golden Princess," but the only places where it had been completed were in those demesnes held by the Crown and by Marquis Raeven, one of the Six Great Nobles. This was because the other nobles protested this gesture, feeling that such roads would only benefit the Empire when they attacked the Kingdom.

The maintenance costs for those roads had also sparked much debate. The reason why Princess Renner had reached out to traders to foot the bill was because the nobles in charge of the areas through which the roads passed were dragging their feet on the matter. Thus, the paving work was in this a sad state of affairs.

Since this region was not too far from E-Rantel — which was administered by the Crown — the work here was of quite a high standard.

Still, it was not perfect. The wagon wobbled a little as it travelled along the street, and some faint vibrations made their way to the passengers.

These tremors terminated the conversation between the occupants of the vehicle.

Among these occupants were Sebas, with Solution by his side. Opposite him was Shalltear, flanked by two of the Vampire Brides who were her minions-c.u.m-concubines. Zack was obviously driving the wagon from the driver's seat.

A brief silence filled the air inside the wagon, and then at great length, Sebas spoke to break it:

"There is one thing I have been meaning to ask you for a while."

"Mm? What do you have in mind?"

"I noticed that you and Aura-sama do not get along very well. Is there any particular reason for that?"

"…Actually, I feel we do get along quite well."

As Shalltear answered quietly, she stared at the nail of her pinky finger, as though bored.

The pearly-white fingernail was about two centimeters long. Although she had a file in hand, the nail looked quite neatly trimmed, so there was no need to work further on it. Shalltear also felt that further action was unnecessary, so she tossed the file to one of the Vampire Brides by her side.

After that, she made to grope the b.r.e.a.s.ts of the vampires beside her with her now-empty hands. However, when she noticed the expressions on the two people in front of her, she retracted her hands, a somewhat embarrassed look on her face.

"It does not seem that way," Sebas continued. Shalltear's face wrinkled up, like she had eaten something bitter, and then she replied:

"I… I think we do get along. I simply tease her a little because my creator, Peroroncino-sama, designed me to feud with her. Still, there is no real enmity there. Perhaps Bukubukuchagama-sama designed that girl to not get along with me as well."

Shalltear waved her hand, as though she were very bored, and then met Sebas's gaze for the first time.

"Speaking of which, my creator Peroroncino-sama and that girl's creator — Bukubukuchagama-sama — were elder sister and younger brother. So in that sense, she and I are also sisters."

"A sibling relationship — I see!"

"In the past, Peroroncino-sama discussed the matter with other Supreme Beings — Luci★Fer-sama and Nishiki Enrai-sama — when they came to my domain."

A look of reverence crept into Shalltear's eyes as she recounted her memories of accompanying these exalted personages.

"Peroroncino-sama once mentioned that Bukubukuchagama had the profession of a seiyuu. So popular was she that she even lent her talents to things called 'aerogays,' so whenever he purchased a game he eagerly anticipated, he would end up thinking of his sister's face and he would lose his motivation."

Shalltear added that she did not know what he meant by that. A somewhat baffled Sebas tilted his head and said:

"A seiyuu… I remember that seems to be a line of work which involves the use of sound. It seems they are skilled in singing, so perhaps it should be similar to a bard."

After hearing Sebas's answer, Shalltear laughed, like the tinkling of silver bells, and replied in the negative:

"That is not the case."

"It is not? How so?"

"I once heard Bukubukuchagama-sama say that being a seiyuu meant giving a soul through sound. In other words, a seiyuu is a job which creates life."

"Ohhh! I see. It seems I was laboring under a grave misconception. Thank you very much for your correction, Shalltear-sama."

Sebas and all the others created by the Supreme Beings were infused with knowledge upon their creation, but that was all they had. Because they did not know real life, amusing mishaps sometimes occurred; like say, making a mistake about their revered masters' jobs.

Feeling terribly uncomfortable, Sebas muttered to himself, engraving the meaning of being a seiyuu into his heart so he would not make the same mistake again.

"There's no need to take it to heart… ah, right, Sebas, since we are fellow travellers, there's no need to be so formal."

"Is that so, Shalltear-sama?"

"Don't address me as -sama… we are all servants of the Supreme Beings. They may have handed down our positions and set some of us over others, but the truth is that we're all basically the same."

She had the right of it. Solution was only obeying Sebas because she had been ordered to do so. Originally, she and Sebas were of the same status.

"I understand, Shalltear. Then, I shall address you in this way from now on."

"That's good to hear. Come to think of it, you don't get along with Demiurge either, do you?"

Sebas remained silent. Shalltear narrowed her eyes, like a playful child, and continued asking:

"The Supreme Beings did not design you that way, so why is that?"

"…I wonder. The truth is, I don't know why that is the case as well. It must be some sort of instinct that makes me dislike him. However the same should apply to him as well."

"Hmm — it doesn't seem that way to me… still, it might be because the feelings of our creators, the Supreme Beings, were deeply engraved within our hearts."

"That is very likely to be the case."

Shalltear carefully studied Sebas, who nodded to her. Then, after considering his position, Shalltear felt that he would know the answer to the question which had long hidden in her heart:

"What kind of people are found in the Eighth Floor? I know about Victim, but who else is there besides him?"

Sebas frowned at the sudden query. He looked at Shalltear, a stern expression on his face, trying to discern what she was up to. From where she was seated to the side, Solution's expression changed as well, though it was subtle enough that the others did not notice.

"…In the past, there were fools who defied the Supreme Beings and invaded Nazarick, breaching the defenses of the Seventh Floor. However, they did not reach the Ninth Floor, where the Supreme Beings resided. That being the case, they must have been stopped at the Eighth Floor, right? Though I do not have any recollection of the event, the opposition must have brought fearsome fighting power with them to make it that far in, so I believe they were halted with equally extraordinary might. However, I have no idea who intercepted the intruders. No, Albedo should know. After all, she is the Guardian Overseer of Nazarick. It would be strange if she did not know that."

As though ignoring the silent Sebas, Shalltear continued asking:

"…It's kind of annoying to hear she's one step ahead of me. What sort of mysterious beings are found on the Eighth Floor? Characters personally crafted by Ainz-sama, perhaps?"

Sebas was made by Touch Me. Demiurge was made by Ulbert Alain Odle. Cocytus was made by Warrior Takemikazuchi. However, even Shalltear did not know what sort of NPC that Ainz — or Momonga, the highest-ranked of the Forty One Supreme Beings — had created.

Surely he had created somebody, right?