At the top of the Theocracy military stood the generalissimo and directly
beneath him—two marshals, Valerian Ein Aubigne and Gael Lazerus
Bulgari. The former was in charge of the campaign against the elves.
Central command was run out of a tent quite close to the elf capital, and
Valerian was seated within, accompanied by six strategists. While he was in
his fifties, all of them were still in their twenties.
Age was hardly a reliable indicator of strength, but in a position
requiring intelligence and experience, it could serve as a sort of benchmark.
By that logic, these strategists were arguably far too young.
Each had deep circles below their eyes and furrowed brows. They wore
the faces of men who'd long labored under a heavy psychological burden.
Valerian ran his eyes over documents that were the most likely causes of
their fatigue.
These were the casualty reports stemming from the elves' night raid.
Considering the early-morning hour, the attack had happened mere hours
ago.
" That's a lot."
He'd expected it, but no other words came to mind.
Still, the Theocracy had far more faith casters than other countries, so
any casualties who still lived and could be recovered, even the critically
injured, could be made whole. As a result, the killed column was a far
smaller figure than the wounded. And the majority of those wounded were
currently getting treatment.
But the number of elf dead left on their side was even less than the
Theocracy.
It seemed unlikely they'd recovered the bodies and retreated while
conducting a night raid. Thus, the reported fatality count was likely
accurate.
An extremely poor kill ratio.
"Yes. This close to the elf capital, they're clearly sending in their
strongest; these casualties are the result." The speaker was the man who'd
drawn up the figures. "But the enemy seems to be operating with a smaller,
more elite force, so we believe even these losses are significant."
One hero was worth a thousand soldiers. On the other hand, the loss of
even one hero was painful. The raw number of dead didn't reflect the true
impact on military capability.
That was the strategist's point, but this was hardly a comfort.
"I can already imagine how the troops will look at us now," another one
muttered.
"It's only natural for them to hold a grudge." Valerian sighed. "They've
all lost friends."
Everyone wanted people to like them, and a commander who lost the
faith of their troops was at a major disadvantage. For those with a
commanding class like Valerian, their support power functioned only if the
troops were following them willingly.
"We've been fending off their night raids thus far, so the issue is less
with our defensive formations than the simple fact that if they send in their
elites, we need comparable defenders to counter them."
"Exactly. Our side has a number of powerful soldiers, but the bulk of
them are faith casters. If the classes are different—you need a more
substantial power differential."
In a frontal assault, those faith casters would be a huge asset. But in a
night raid, ranger skills had the clear advantage. They didn't need to look
any further than these casualty counts for proof of that.
"What we need to do is increase our defenses so that no additional night
raids can occur. Anyone have any ideas?"
The raid itself must have put that idea in their heads; the strategists all
had proposals ready.
Valerian had thought of several himself, and they had some that hadn't
occurred to him. If they could incorporate all of these, the result would be a
substantially stronger defensive position. Problem was, doing so would
require significant labor, resources, and time. They would have to prioritize
the most efficient measures and discard the others.
Worse—
"Sir, defenses are all well and good, but is there actually a point in
spending the time to stay and fight here?"
That was the obvious question.
"The top brass have sent their orders." He looked around the table.
"You've all read them. They need us to stand our ground a while longer.
Understood?"
No one disagreed. But their silence was not acceptance.
He had not expected them to be on board. He knew exactly how each of
them felt, and despite his many years, he knew he could not dismiss this as
the folly of youth.
Frankly, they were entirely justified.
The lives lost in last night's attacks had simply been wasted. These
losses had been entirely avoidable.
The Theocracy armies had placed their camp close to the capital,
virtually on the front lines. It could be argued that this meant information
reached them quickly and they could respond to enemy actions promptly—
but it also carried the risk of their headquarters falling if a particularly
strong elf made a suicidal charge directly at them. The elves were on the
ropes and increasingly likely to employ such tactics. No question about it—
the Theocracy should be launching their full assault as soon as possible.
Simply put, if the enemy's most powerful fighters were forced to take up
defensive positions, the risk of the Theocracy headquarters falling was
significantly diminished.
But the leadership had ordered them to sit here and merely probe the
enemy lines. They must have been aware that would lead to elven night
raids.
Certainly, the collapse of their front could lead to evacuations or
desertions, and orders to park themselves close by and swiftly move to
prevent that made a certain amount of sense. Valerian was even on board
with the idea of dangling bait before the elven elite or the elf king—who
had barely shown himself. But those strategies were contingent on the
participation of the Firestorm Scripture.
Why were they not here, helping?
Certainly not because their subleader had perished at the hands of the elf
king.
Supreme command had sent word that the Firestorm Scripture were
busy with another mission, but nobody here took that at face value.
Valerian knew the truth, and though young, these strategists were all
brilliant and knew exactly what the top brass were thinking.
Withholding the Firestorm Scripture had several effects.
First, experience.
For humans used to city life, survival in this forest was much harder
than they'd imagined. A far cry from the safety of home, here they always
had to be on the lookout.
This battle was one big lesson.
Elves had merely taken the place of forest beasts.
If there were future opportunities to gain similar experience, they likely
wouldn't bother—but it also wasn't something you wanted happening often.
But that goal did not require actual losses.
If experience was the only goal, they need merely train somewhere safe.
They could have the Firestorm Scripture fill the same roles as the elves.
Obviously, high command knew that, too. So why take this approach? Did
they not care about the losses it incurred?
No—
It's all about their state of mind.
If a soldier was to protect anyone, they needed techniques used by
hunters and rangers.
By going up against creatures who excelled at forest combat—like the
elves—the rank and file learned ways to fight in this environment. Some
might learn enough to acquire the ranger class. And fatalities were a real
incentive. The more friends they lost, the more threatened the survivors felt.
For that reason, command had refused to send in the six scriptures—
especially the Firestorm—on the grounds that they would make short work
of the elves.
The very thought of this cold logic made Valerian want to grimace.
He understood why. But that didn't mean he liked it.
"Sir, a proposal."
The strategist's tone was pretty stiff. He was the youngest man here.
This war had gathered the youngest strategists together—for the goal of
fundamentally changing how they think.
Valerian urged him to continue.
"Naturally, we expected all of this. But the death toll has reached the
absolute limit. Under these circumstances, even if we attack the enemy
stronghold, actually seizing it will be extremely difficult. Since we haven't
killed all the elves from that night raid, we can expect fierce resistance from
them. I cannot accept incurring further losses. Can you please ask the
higher-ups to change strategies?"
He knew this was impossible. But seeing men die before his very eyes
had weakened his spirit.
Valerian suppressed the urge to sigh. He got what this man was going
through. Every officer had to work through it at some point.
Life—here defined as that of your countryman—was precious.
That was, perhaps, a flaw in the Theocracy.
By itself, that could hardly be considered a bad thing. It was, in fact,
unquestionably good. Faced with the choice between a country that valued
its citizens' lives and one that did not, anyone would pick the former.
Arguably, the Theocracy armed forces had grown soft under the
protection of their heroes, but the desire to minimize losses was not morally
wrong. But that was the logic of those without weapons. It was a soldier's
job to kill or be killed. Could the members of the military afford to think
like that?
Inevitably, there would come a time when victory could not be obtained
without sacrifices.
A time when they would have to fight without the six scriptures backing
them.
If overvaluing life made them timid and unable to act decisively, that
was a fatal flaw.
Valerian did not want them to treat soldiers as disposable commodities.
He wanted them to know the pain of command—pain Valerian and his
superiors grappled with—and learn to deal with it.
All of them were wrestling with this pain, making it their own. And the
results were showing on every gathered face.
Presumably, none of them had enjoyed a good night's sleep. It would be
hard to while the suffering of the soldiers filled their ears.
Valerian did feel a modicum of pity.
If they had not been forced into this tactical situation abruptly, it would
have been possible to ease them into it. That would have taken far less toll
on their spirits.
But circumstances didn't allow for such leisurely approaches. They not
only had to whip each soldier into shape, they needed their commanding
officers at the top of their game. The troops needed to be strong, and their
officers needed to be stern enough to order them to their deaths.
We'll be challenging the Nation of Darkness in due time, and countless
soldiers will die in those battles to come. We expect there to be casualties
among the civilian population, too. That's why the brass want them to
familiarize themselves with death here. As cruel as that may be.
"I feel your pain," he said. Every officer here did. "But we cannot stop
now. Look not at the present but at the future."
"............…"
The youngest strategist hung his head, then looked up at Valerian once
more, desperation in his eyes.
"…At least, at the very least, when we do attack the elves' capital, let it
be a full-scale assault. Our strongest spells, destroying the enemy's outer
perimeters. If we're forbidden the use of not only catapults and siege
engines but even fire arrows—far more soldiers will die."
" That, too, I cannot permit. And you can imagine why."
These were the finest minds their country had to offer. They knew where
the Theocracy stood and could surmise the reasons for their orders. Valerian
felt spelling it out for them would be redundant, but perhaps it was worth
stating in so many words.
"We cannot avoid a conflict with the vile Nation of Darkness. If this city
is in our hands, intact—then we might have the option of evacuating our
people here. That is why we stopped felling the trees in our path. That is
why we are not allowed to do significant damage to the city itself.
Understood?"
"I thought so. Every choice the higher-ups are making is to lay the
groundwork for the next war. But the elves made this city with their spells.
Even if we raze portions of it to the ground, I believe our prisoners could
restore it. Is that not an option?"
This came from a different strategist, and Valerian nodded.
"They could," he said. "Several people have proposed as much. Others
suggested those elves could rebuild elsewhere. But given the time frame
we're working with, those plans are untenable."
They did have plans for any elves they captured. It was not difficult to
force them to cooperate using Charm or similar spells. But using mindcontrol magic repeatedly in a short time frame made it easy for them to
build up resistance to it.
They had already performed some experiments and found that while the
elves' magic worked on trees, it took ages to grow one from scratch. No
one knew when war with the Nation of Darkness would begin, but the math
suggested they'd never complete a city capable of housing a whole
country's worth of evacuees in time.
They would have to use what already existed and could not afford to
waste a thing.
"Our sole course of action is to force our way through their last lines of
defense, despite the casualties that will occur. Obviously, nobody wants this
loss of life. We'll need every fighting body we can get in the war against the
Nation of Darkness. We can't waste them here."
What command wanted was truly a paradox.
Valerian was conscious of the contradiction. But he also knew it plagued
his superiors.
"…Sir, more than that, those who survive certain death come back
stronger."
"Yes…true words. They will do that."
This came from the strategist ranked second only to Valerian himself in
the commander class. Valerian agreed entirely.
The Theocracy had long held that a single hero was worth a thousand
soldiers. But that would no longer be enough. They had to make each
soldier stronger—thus, the cruelty of this campaign.
Everything was to prepare for the coming war with the Nation.
A conflict that most certainly would come to pass.
"I know it's hard for all of you, but wring out your brains and do
whatever you must to ensure your troops live to walk on Theocracy soil
once more."
Valerian bowed his head, and all responded favorably.
This was not all.
There was another reason to dawdle here.
An individual no one but Valerian knew about—had been allowed to
know about. They were waiting for her arrival.
The elf king was a powerful foe. Strong enough to slaughter veritable
heroes in a single blow. Yet, the Theocracy had a card capable of beating
him.
Using it was strategically sound. Champion against champion, hero
against hero, and for those who surpassed that—
But the Theocracy leadership was hell-bent on pitting her against the elf
king, for reasons beyond the mere militaristic advantage.
He did not know why.
But Valerian waited.
Waited for the final card to arrive.
As he did, a messenger interrupted the meeting. An urgent look on their
face, they came up to Valerian, whispering, "Sir, reinforcements from
home."
"Ah, at last," Valerian said and rose to his feet. The strategists looked
up, and he said, "Men, we no longer need defensive measures. Throw all
troops assigned there to the front lines. Prepare for the main assault."
The long campaign was approaching its end. The battle was entering its
final stage.
Why are they fighting like this? Does the Theocracy have no concern for
losses?
A week after they'd left the dark elf village, Ainz was observing the
Theocracy assault on the elf capital and musing to himself.
They'd made wall-like structures from wood and were pushing those
ahead of them as they advanced. He knew this was an attempt to shield
themselves from the elf archers' uncanny accuracy, but it felt extremely
inefficient.
And they didn't even have anything overhead so were unable to block
skilled shots that arced over their mobile cover. There weren't all that many
of these, so perhaps the losses were acceptable, but still—
" The Theocracy has a lot of faith casters. Why aren't they just
flinging out AOE spells? As it is, the elves have the terrain advantage. To
counter that, they could just summon angels or the like and have them
attack from above. Or smarter still, simply burn them out of their homes.
There's no shortage of wood to make siege engines from. They could easily
set the place ablaze from a distance."
Trees that size might not burn that easily, but the smaller branches and
leaves certainly would. The smoke from that would harm the elves and
impair the aim of their archers. The Theocracy's failure to do so struck Ainz
as downright unnatural.
Why not send in their champions? If they had high-level units like
Fluder or Gazef, they could cast larger spells, attack in force, help the
troops break through. I see no reason to hold them in reserve.
"Hmm, it makes no sense to me. Have either of you spotted anything in
their movements? Any insights to offer?"
The twins were watching the same thing he was. After a pause, Mare
answered.
"Er, um…maybe they just aren't thinking?"
"Please, that can't be true. An army this size has any number of
commanders and strategists. I find it hard to believe none of them has a
plan. There must be a specific reason for this."
But Ainz literally couldn't think of one. It was certainly possible that an
idiot had been placed in charge for political reasons and was ignoring the
advice of his strategists, but given the sensible measures they'd taken on the
advance to this location—felling the trees, etc.—it didn't feel like the right
answer.
"Hmm, they're attacking from other directions, too, but the methods
they're using don't seem much different."
They had the elf capital half surrounded and a number of units stationed
on the far shore of the lake behind the city.
"They don't seem to be placing any POWs on the front lines… Are the
soldiers leading the advance disposable? Does the Theocracy have a slave
caste?"
"No, they've been known to sell elves as slaves, but I haven't heard
anything about human warrior slaves. We've got a solid grasp on their
political structures, but…it's not like we know everything. Still…I doubt
that's it."
"C-could those soldiers have been s-summoned?"
"Those hit by arrows are still lying there, so probably not."
Other soldiers were dragging the fallen to the rear—to the Theocracy
base camp. That suggested they weren't expected to die on the front lines.
So why let them? Why not do everything possible to avoid that?
Ainz racked his brain, found something that seemed plausible, and
voiced it.
"Maybe—just maybe—they've realized we're here? And that's why
they're fighting like this?"
"Huh?"
"B-but that's…"
"No, we can't say it's us. But if they're trying to make enemy countries
or groups think they're fools or pulling some subterfuge to hide the
presence of their champions—it might look like this."
The Nation of Darkness might not be the only target of a potential
misinformation campaign. The Theocracy might have other enemies Ainz
was unaware of, leading to what they were seeing.
Nazarick had done similar things in the past, so it stood to reason their
enemies might, too.
The Theocracy has some history behind it. That creates enemies. Is that
what this is? But I can't think of any other reason to hold the champions
back. In which case…could it be that place north of the Nation and
kingdom? The Council State? The Theocracy are human supremacists, so
there's no way they get along with that melting-pot country. Hmm, then
perhaps we should ally ourselves—No, Albedo and Demiurge would have
considered that already. Still, if I leave everything to them, I can hardly call
myself their boss. I'll have to broach the subject.
Toward the end of the war with the kingdom, a mysterious being calling
himself Rik Aganeia had appeared—and their speculation suggested he
might be related to the Council State's Platinum Dragonlord.
This was based solely on the color of his armor, but in that case, allying
with the Theocracy against the Council State might work. Or they could do
the opposite, allying with the Council State against the Theocracy and using
that as an excuse to find out how they operated.
Either way, perhaps they should do something before those two
countries teamed up against the Nation. Still, if this had occurred to Ainz,
odds were those two great minds of Nazarick had long since thought of it.
…Hmm. If they have laid the groundwork for an alliance, we should take
care to not let the Theocracy find out we're here. Kill any witnesses.
"Lord Ainz, should we infiltrate the Theocracy camp and steal
information?" Aura suggested.
"No, absolutely not," he said, shaking his head. He explained his idea.
"See…assume an entity comparable to me was opposed to us. Do you think
they could sneak into Nazarick and make off with the information they
wanted?"
"Yes, absolutely!"
"I think so, too. If someone as incredible as you actually existed, Lord
Ainz, then they can do anything."
"Oh, um…"
They seemed confident. Mare uncharacteristically so. But this was not
what Ainz had wanted to hear.
"Um, forget that question. Um, instead, say, Shall—"
No!
He already knew that answer.
If he suggested someone equivalent to Shalltear, Aura would insist it
was impossible. Certainly, that was the answer Ainz was looking for, but he
didn't want what led to that answer. Not at all.
So who? he wondered.
Pandora's Actor…can transform into any guild member, so they might
think it possible. Then Demiurge…? Hmm, he does seem like he could steal
anything. Aura…or Mare are bad choices here. Then…
"Same basic question, but let's say instead that a being equivalent to
Albedo was hostile to Nazarick. Do you think they could steal all the
information Nazarick has?"
"Um, Albedo…?"
"Er, um…do you suspect something?"
"N-no! I don't imagine she'd ever betray us!" He was a bit flustered by
that response. "This is a hypothetical, an imaginary someone of similar
abilities. Merely for comparison's sake."
The twins glanced at each other, like they weren't buying it. Finally,
Aura spoke for both of them.
"I think even Albedo couldn't manage it. She hasn't raised her stealth
skills, and I've not heard of her having any equipment with effects like
that."
"Yeah…that's true…Albedo's a tank. No relevant skills." Once again,
Ainz had chosen a bad example. "Let's put skills aside for the moment. Do
you think it's impossible even with her brilliance?"
"S-still impossible."
Fine. He couldn't think of any better names. Offering a silent apology to
Albedo, he decided to move on.
"Mm, yes. I agree it's impossible. Nazarick has many defensive
measures, and those are beyond what any one person could handle. In
which case—are there not other places like that?"
"I doubt it! The Great Tomb of Nazarick was designed by the Supreme
Beings themselves. It's very…special. I don't think anywhere else is like
it."
Mare was so firm on this, Ainz nearly agreed with him.
He himself had helped create Nazarick, so Mare's faith pleased him, but
that was not the point he was trying to make here. And he couldn't exactly
say, Take a hint and guess what your boss wants.
He decided to just ignore Mare.
"Um, so this is how I view things. If we could pull it off with Nazarick,
it makes sense people could pull it off elsewhere."
Ainz wouldn't be able to pilfer Nazarick's secrets if he was working
alone. Was it wrong to believe that other players' homes would be just as
difficult to infiltrate?
He didn't think so.
If they could keep information from their foes, their foes could keep
information from them. Only a fool would act without that assumption in
place.
This was why Ainz had not dispatched spies to the Theocracy—a place
where multiple clues hinted at a player's presence. This country had existed
for a long time. If a player lived there, then those years would give them a
serious advantage.
As it was, they'd developed spells he didn't know—like the one that
killed you after you answered three questions.
"Naturally, there are times when we must take a risk despite the dangers.
But that leaves the question—is that time now? Aura, Mare?"
""Yes,"" they chorused.
"The Great Tomb of Nazarick—we are strong. But we may not be
unrivaled. Never underestimate your foes. Never neglect to gather
information."
Both agreed, and he nodded.
"Okay! In that case, let's watch a while longer. As it stands, we can't
achieve our goal."
They were here for a kill steal. Well, technically, they were here for
something else.
A kill was considered stolen if you spotted someone else fighting a
monster and you jumped in and slew that monster yourself, making off with
all the experience. To do that here, they'd have to attack either the elves or
the Theocracy and do significant damage.
But that was not what Ainz was after.
He was targeting the magic items in the elf castle.
Any half-decent royalty likely had a sizable collection of valuable magic
items. And those could be powerful indeed. In this case, he really meant
that they'd be swooping to grab the treasure while everyone else was busy
fighting.
If the Theocracy had advanced this far, odds were they'd win. The elves'
magic items would fall into Theocracy hands if Ainz did nothing. The last
thing he wanted to do was give a potential enemy any advantages. So
before they got to any hoard of magical items, he planned to rob the elves
first.
One other advantage of this strategy was that he would not be directly
opposing the Theocracy. Certainly, if he was caught, they would
vehemently reproach him for it. But since they weren't the Theocracy's
possessions yet, he could make excuses.
So this was less a kill steal and more simple looting.
Ainz had done much the same thing several times in Yggdrasil. He could
recall laughing at the sight of an attacking guild occupying the enemy base
only to discover the treasury was already empty. That's why the idea had
come readily this time.
Just one problem.
He had no idea what sort of magic items the elf country or castle
contained. He should not just assume they had some. They might not! In
which case, he was taking a risk for nothing and possibly worsening
relations with the Theocracy in the bargain. He would have preferred to
gather information before acting.
Even if the elf king did have a collection of magic items, there was a
solid chance they weren't stuck in the treasury during what was essentially
their last stand. It would make perfect sense to use them against the
invading Theocracy forces. Or even sent off to some other place for
safekeeping.
But they didn't have much time to investigate.
"…Let's watch a bit longer, then head into the palace. I don't want them
removing the magic items."
"If they do, I can track 'em."
"Yes, right. I'm sure you can…but no guarantee they don't have
Forestwalk or the like. Best if we get our hands on them before that
happens. Hmm, we'll have to locate them, too…so perhaps sooner is
better."
"Th-then…?"
"Yes, let's go now."
Ainz glanced at the invasion once more.
It had been a week now, so depending on discussions with the other
villagers, the dark elves might already be here, fighting.
Part of him wanted to know if they were and where they were posted,
but he had just regretted acting inappropriately for his role as ruler of
Nazarick. He should focus purely on what they stood to gain from all this.
He turned from the palace to Mare.
"Mare, if the need arises, we might station you on the front line as our
tank. Do you mind?"
Best to make sure.
"N-no, I can handle it. Like the village, it, um…the elf capital counts as
nature, so there's no issue. I'll do my best!"
Neither Aura nor Mare was dressed in their usual equipment. The armor
in particular was quite different. Aura was in archer gear, and Mare had
switched to a defense set.
These outfits were not provided by Ainz but from the stash
BubblingTeapot had left them. They weren't quite as good as their typical
equipment. But they'd been tailored specifically for the twins, so their
overall abilities hadn't taken a major hit.
Still, this was a stealth mission. It would probably be best if Ainz
changed up his gear, wearing items called secret shoes like they both were
and all three wearing masks. But he had done no such thing.
The main reason was that despite being the most recognizable of them,
he'd decided to go with his usual equipment. This was because the two of
them had changed their gear and were a bit weaker than usual. If Ainz also
changed his and was similarly weakened, that would be too big a risk.
He thought for a long while and eventually settled on the superreductive idea of just killing any and all witnesses. That eliminated the need
for any disguises.
The twins' armor choices were a lesser motivation.
For backup gear, they had decent stats for one reason—they used data
crystals that raised the armor's total parameters but eliminated gear slots at
specific locations. In Mare's case, he was unable to equip anything to his
face, so he couldn't wear a mask in this armor.
As for the armor itself…
...This is definitely another gender-swapped arrangement.
That was hardly the only eyebrow-raising element.
The only reasonable response was, What the hell kinda armor is that?
Especially Mare's.
It put the dress in dress armor, and the very eye-catching, skin-flaunting
design left his entire midriff exposed.
Yggdrasil armor derived their defensive ratings from three values: the
quality of the metal used, the quantity of the metal used, and the data
crystal. So it wasn't like Mare's torso was actually unprotected; the data
crystal portion did provide some coverage there. Essentially a magical
defense aura.
It was likely none of the regular soldiers fighting here could even
scratch him. But back in Yggdrasil, these exposed points had been designed
to make critical hits easier to land.
This was not exactly gear for a tank.
Tanks should be wearing bulky armor like Albedo's.
BubblingTeapot's racial weakness in Yggdrasil was an inability to equip
armor, but she'd carried a shield in each hand and had a skill that hardened
her ooze.
She was a tank herself, so what had she been thinking when she picked
this gear for Mare?
She most likely hadn't been thinking at all.
On second thought, Ainz realized she'd probably put a lot of thought
into it. Just…based on her personal predilections rather than combat
potential.
Like brother, like sister was what Ainz instinctively thought, but he
fought off that impulse, rising to their defense. Mare had originally just
been an NPC and was not capable of changing his own gear.
In other words, what he had on now had simply been an alternate skin,
just some variety in his wardrobe. Most players likely wouldn't have
bothered making actually viable equipment. That BubblingTeapot had was
likely to her credit. This was purely a fashion statement, but the stats were
still solid.
Ainz could just see her beautiful smile—not that she had a face—and
her brother's look of horror.