The Men of the Kingdom Part II

  Copyright

  OVERLORD, VOLUME 6

  KUGANE MARUYAMA

  Translation by Emily Balistrieri

  Cover art by so-bin

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  ©2014 KUGANE MARUYAMA

  All rights reserved.

  First published in Japan in 2014 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION ENTERBRAIN. English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION ENTERBRAIN, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2018 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen On

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  First Yen On Edition: January 2018

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Maruyama, Kugane, author. | So-bin, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator.

  Title: Overlord / Kugane Maruyama ; illustration by So-bin ; translation by Emily Balistrieri.

  Other titles: Ōbārōdo. English

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2016–

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016000142 | ISBN 9780316272247 (v. 1 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316363914 (v. 2 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316363938 (v. 3 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316397599 (v. 4 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316397612 (v. 5 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398794 (v. 6 : hardback)

  Subjects: LCSH: Alternate reality games—Fiction. | Internet games—Fiction. | Science fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.

  Classification: LCC PL873.A37 O2313 2016 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016000142

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-39879-4 (hardcover)

  978-0-316-39880-0 (ebook)

  E3-20180112-JV-PC

  Chapter 6 | Disturbance in the Royal Capital: Introduction

  1

  3 Late Fire Moon (September) 5:44 PM

  The door to the drawing room slowly opened.

  The well-oiled door should have opened smoothly, but now it moved slowly, heavily, as if against a wall of pressure. At that speed, it might well have been reading Sebas’s mind.

  If the door really knew what he was thinking, he would have rather it didn’t open at all, but it did indeed give way to reveal the drawing room.

  The parlor was the same as always, but the four grotesques waiting for him inside were not.

  One bore the appearance of a light-blue samurai. His chilly aura was deactivated, and he was at attention, silver halberd in hand.

  Another was a demon. What inner thoughts did his sarcastic expression hide?

  And in the demon’s arms was an angel resembling a fetus with wings like withered branches.

  Lastly—

  “I humbly apologize for my lateness.”

  Keeping his voice steady by sheer power of will, Sebas directed an almost religious bow at the sole seated being in the room. As both house steward and butler, Sebas held one of the highest positions among his peers—but the being that both frightened and awed him was none other than one of the Absolutes, the Forty-One Supreme Beings.

  Ainz Ooal Gown.

  He was the ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, with the greatest power at his disposal. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown in his hand was giving off a black aura.

  Hazy red lights glowed in his vacant orbits. Their gaze slid up and down over Sebas, taking him in—he could feel it despite his lowered head.

  The vibrations in the air told him that Ainz, finding this tiresome, had waved his hand dramatically.

  “…It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Sebas. That’s what I get for coming with no notice. More importantly, standing over there bowing doesn’t get us anywhere. Get in here.”

  “My lord!” Sebas raised his head in response to the dignified voice and slowly stepped forward—and a chill went up his spine. With his keen senses, he was detecting skillfully concealed hostility and murderous intent.

  He slowly shifted his gaze. The two guardians in his field of vision didn’t appear to be paying any special attention to Sebas—or so it might seem to the common observer.

  Sebas realized it well enough.

  There was nothing amicable about the tension around them. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Their vigilance was not generally found in the presence of allies.

  Sebas understood their caution, and the pressure made him wonder if everyone in the room could hear his violently pounding heart.

  “I think you should stop right there.” Demiurge’s cool voice halted Sebas in his tracks.

  The spot Demiurge indicated was slightly removed from their master. Of course, it wasn’t so far away as to make conversing difficult, and it would serve as an appropriate distance for an audience with a superior, on the whole. But normally, Ainz would have said he was too far away and asked him to approach. His silence created a sense of distance wider than the physical space, and that weighed heavily on Sebas.

  It was also the optimum range for Cocytus to attack, which made him only more anxious.

  Incidentally, Solution had entered the room along with Sebas, but she remained right next to the door.

  “Now, then…” Ainz cracked his knuckles, though it was unclear how he managed with nothing but bones for fingers. “First, I’ll ask you if I need to explain why I’ve come.”

  There could be only one reason. The circumstances alone said as much.

  “…No, that won’t be necessary.”

  “Then I’d like to hear it straight from you, Sebas. I didn’t receive a report, but apparently you recently picked up a cute little pet. Is that right?”

  I knew it.

  Sebas felt like an icicle had impaled him in the back. Immediately afterward, he realized he hadn’t replied to his master and hurried to raise his voice. “Yes, my lord!”

  “…Your response was delayed. Sebas, I’ll ask you again. Is it true you’ve picked up and are caring for a cute little pet?”

  “Yes, I am!”

  “Good. Then I’ll ask you this. Why didn’t you report it?”

  “Right…” Sebas’s shoulders trembled slightly, and he stared at the floor. What do I say to avoid the worst?

  Sebas stood there in silence, and Ainz, watching him, slowly leaned back in his chair. The abnormally loud creak filled the room. “What’s wrong, Sebas? Seems like you’re sweating bullets. If you need a handkerchief, I’ll lend you one…” Ainz theatrically drew from somewhere unknown a snow-white handkerchief between his pointer and middle fingers. He casually tossed it in Sebas’s direction. The handkerchief opened as it fluttered over the desk and down to the floor with a motion that could be described as a fwah.

  “You have my permission to use it.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Sebas took a single step toward Ainz and retrieved the fallen handkerchief. Then he hesitated.

  “…It doesn’t have your pet’s blood on it or anything. I just can’t stand to look at you with all that sweat.”

  “Oh… Apologies for my unsightly appearance.” Sebas unfolded the handkerchief and wiped the greasy moisture off his forehead. The cloth absorbed more than he expected and turned dark.

  �
��Now then, Sebas. When I dispatched you to the royal capital, I ordered you to take note of anything and everything, then send those observations to Nazarick. I did so because it’s hard to discern the valuable information from the garbage without more input. And in the documents you sent, you even wrote up things as minor as street rumors, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Then, Demiurge, just to confirm, let’s hear from you as well. I had you read the documents Sebas sent, too, right? Did he mention anything about his little pet?”

  “No, Lord Ainz. I read them over several times, but I could not find the slightest hint of such a thing.”

  “I see. So again, Sebas. I’ll ask with that in mind. Why didn’t you report it…? I want to know why you ignored my orders. Were the words of Ainz Ooal Gown not worthy enough to bind you?”

  The question rocked the room.

  Sebas answered in a desperate rush. “Of course they were, my lord. I simply did not think the matter merited a report to you.”

  Silence fell.

  It felt to Sebas like four bloodthirsty gazes were boring into him. They emanated from Cocytus, Demiurge, the angel in Demiurge’s arms, and Solution, who would undoubtedly attack him with a single word from their master.

  Sebas didn’t fear death per se. Sacrificing himself for Nazarick would be his greatest joy. But the idea of dying a traitor’s death made even the thick-skinned butler shudder.

  As a creation of one of the Forty-One Supreme Beings, he knew there was no greater humiliation than to be executed for treason.

  After a pause long enough to leave Sebas’s forehead covered in sweat, Ainz spoke. “So you’re saying…it was a silly decision on your part?”

  “Yes, just as you say, Lord Ainz. Please forgive my foolish error!”

  “…I see. Hmm… I understand.”

  Sebas heard Ainz’s voice, devoid of emotion, while his head was still lowered in apology. Since he hadn’t been immediately disposed of, the mood had lightened, if only slightly.

  But Sebas couldn’t relax—because before he could, Ainz said something that made his heart leap into his throat.

  “Solution, bring Sebas’s pet here.”

  “Understood.”

  Solution left, and the door closed quietly. Sebas’s sharp faculties sensed her receding on the other side.

  He swallowed hard.

  There were four grotesques present: Ainz, Cocytus, and Demiurge, plus the strange angel. Demiurge didn’t look much like a grotesque, but with the other three, their nature was clear at a glance.

  Are they not concealing their forms because it won’t be a problem if she sees them?

  If a member of the Great Tomb of Nazarick chose to silence someone, it was always with death.

  I should have let her go sooner.

  Sebas mentally shook his head. It was too late for such thoughts now.

  Before long, Sebas detected two presences approaching the room from a distance.

  What should I do?

  He shifted his focus and stared into space.

  If she entered the room, he would have to make a decision—and there was only one option.

  He looked to Demiurge, who continued to observe him, and then to Ainz. His gaze dropped helplessly to the floor.

  A knock sounded at the door before it opened. Unsurprisingly, two women appeared—Solution and Tsuare.

  “This is her.”

  Though he wasn’t facing her, Sebas could hear her breath catch slightly by the entrance. Was she taken aback by Demiurge’s appearance as the devil incarnate? Had she shuddered in horror at the giant light-blue insect Cocytus? Was she frightened by the disturbing infantile angel? Or awestruck by Ainz, who embodied death? Perhaps she felt all those things at once?

  The guardians’ displeasure increased with the human’s appearance. Tsuare was the physical symbol of Sebas’s crime, in a way. She trembled under the enmity directed toward her.

  The animosity of the Absolutes of this world, the Nazarick guardians, terrified all manner of weaker beings. It was a wonder she didn’t burst into tears.

  Sebas didn’t turn around, but he could still sense Tsuare’s eyes on his back. In other words, her courage stemmed from his presence.

  “Demiurge, Cocytus, knock it off. Follow Victim’s example,” Ainz said quietly, and the room’s atmosphere changed. Well, the only difference was the disappearance of the rancor directed at Tsuare. After reproving the two guardians, Ainz slowly held out his left hand in her direction. Then he turned his palm to the ceiling and unhurriedly waved her closer. “Come in, Tsuare, Sebas’s human pet.”

  As if his words compelled her, she took one trembling step, then another, into the room.

  “You must have courage if you’re not running away. Or did Solution tell you—that Sebas’s fate depends on you?”

  Tsuare, shaking, didn’t answer. Sebas felt the gaze on his back intensifying. It conveyed her thoughts louder than words could.

  Now that she was in the room, Tsuare unhesitatingly moved next to Sebas. Cocytus slowly went to stand behind her.

  She grabbed the hem of Sebas’s jacket. He suddenly remembered when she’d grabbed the cuff of his pants in that alley. At the same time, he was filled with regret—if he had only acted more intelligently, none of this would have happened.

  Demiurge looked coldly at Tsuare. “Knee—”

  A finger snapped.

  Demiurge promptly heeded his master’s will and snapped his mouth shut.

  “—It’s fine. It’s fine, Demiurge. I’ll praise her courage for not fleeing before me and forgive her rudeness.”

  “My mistake, my lord.”

  Ainz nodded benevolently in response to the apology. “Ahh.” The chair creaked as he leaned against the back. “First, I’ll tell you my name. I’m Ainz Ooal Gown—Sebas’s master.”

  That was correct.

  Ainz Ooal Gown—one of the Forty-One Supreme Beings—held absolute power over Sebas, including whether he lived or died.

  To hear such a thing from one’s unconditional ruler was the greatest joy. But for some reason, Sebas didn’t feel the gladness he usually expected; in fact, he experienced so little that he shivered in alarm. It wasn’t due to Tsuare’s presence. For just that moment, he’d practically forgotten she was there. There’s some other—

  The conversation continued while these things whirled through Sebas’s mind.

  “Oh, I—I…”

  “Never mind, Tsuare. I know about you to some degree. And I’m not interested in you beyond that. You can just keep quiet and stand there. You’ll know why I called you in a little while.”

  “O-okay.”

  “Now, then…” The red lights in his vacant eye sockets shifted. “…Sebas. I’d like to ask you something. I told you to operate without drawing attention to yourself, did I not?”

  “You did, my lord.”

  “But instead you invited trouble for the sake of this worthless woman. Am I wrong?”

  Tsuare flinched at the word worthless, but Sebas answered without reacting. “You are not, my lord.”

  “You didn’t consider that to be ignoring my orders?”

  “I deeply regret that my indiscretion has invited your displeasure, Lord Ainz. I’ll take sufficient care that this never happens aga—”

  “Very well.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, ‘Very well.’” Ainz changed posture and the chair groaned again. “Everyone makes mistakes. Sebas, I forgive your silly error.”

  “I humbly thank you, Lord Ainz.”

  “However. Mistakes must be paid for. With death. Go on.”

  The tension in the room thickened, and the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. No, that wasn’t true. Sebas was the only one affected. The other members of Nazarick were fine.

  Sebas gulped.

  Who was he supposed to kill? He didn’t have to ask. Still, though he already knew, a longing to be wrong pushed him to pose a question despite his
mouth’s unwillingness to move. “Beg your…pardon, my lord…?”

  “Mm…I mean that if you eliminate the root of your error, we can say that you never made it in the first place. If the cause of your error remains, it’ll set a difficult precedent for the others, don’t you think? You’re Nazarick’s butler—you’re supposed to be in charge. We can’t very well leave things like this.”

  Sebas exhaled. Then he took another gulp of air.

  Sebas’s breathing was always steady, even before a powerful enemy, but he was now gasping like a small animal in the face of a predator.

  “Sebas. Are you a dog who obeys m— The Forty-One Supreme Beings? Or do you abide by your own will?”

  “I—”

  “You don’t need to answer. Show me.”

  Sebas closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

  He hesitated for an instant. No, for an eternity that others might call an instant. The pause was long enough for Cocytus, Demiurge, and Solution, fanatic devotees of the Supreme Beings, to show their displeasure.

  Then, finally, he made up his mind.

  Sebas was Nazarick’s butler.

  Nothing more.

  It was his foolish indecision that had led to this. If he had sought permission sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.

  Everything had been his fault.

  A hard glint appeared in Sebas’s eyes—the sparkle of steel. Then he turned to face Tsuare.

  The fingers clinging to him retreated. They faltered briefly in the air and then dropped helplessly.

  She must have seen his face and understood his decision.

  Her eyes closed as she smiled.

  Tsuare’s expression showed neither despair nor fear. She acknowledged and accepted what was about to happen. It was the face of a martyr.

  Sebas’s movements were also calm.

  His heart was already at ease.

  Standing there was a servant with ironclad devotion to Nazarick. There was no reason for a loyal retainer to not follow his master’s absolute order.

  He had cast aside his hesitation. All that remained was earnest devotion.

  Sebas’s tightly balled fist flew at Tsuare’s head at a speed that ensured a mercifully instant death.

  And then—

  —something hard stopped it.