Chapter 69: The Dragon Kingdom
The light in the sitting room had grown dimmer than before.
Mist pressed silently against the windows, laying a grey dampness over the hedges in the courtyard. Occasionally a breath of wind found a gap in the frame and slipped through, carrying the clean smell of rain-soaked earth and greenery, lifting the edge of the curtain for a moment before letting it fall.
Lucian sat where he was and watched Sebas settle back into the chair across from him.
He didn't rush to speak. Instead he lifted the tea, cold all the way through by now, and took a small sip. The cold liquid spread across his tongue and left a faint, slightly bitter aftertaste.
"Mr. Sebas."
Lucian set down the cup. His voice was quiet, but in the stillness of the sitting room it came through with unusual clarity.
"How much do you know about the Dragon Kingdom?"
Sebas gave a slight shake of his head. That deeply lined face held no unnecessary expression. He simply waited for Lucian to continue.
Lucian's gaze drifted to the grey mist beyond the window, as though reaching back toward something distant.
"The Dragon Kingdom lies to the southeast of this kingdom."
His voice was unhurried, the pace of someone telling a long story.
"To the north, it faces the Baharuth Empire across a mountain range and the Katz Plains. To the southwest, a large lake, and beyond it a border with the Slane Theocracy. To the east..." Lucian's brow pressed slightly. "To the east, it borders a small beastman nation."
He continued.
"The Dragon Kingdom's population is only a few million — the smallest of the surrounding nations. Its ruler is a queen of dragon lineage: Draudillon Oriculus."
He paused. A faint note of something subtle entered his voice.
"Despite her dragon blood, this queen's personal combat ability is no different from an ordinary person's. The Dragon Kingdom's only real asset is a Adamantine-ranked adventuring team called the Crystal Tears."
Outside, the mist had thickened. The shapes in the courtyard were blurring, visible now only through what felt like a half-transparent curtain of water.
"Because of unrelenting attacks from that beastman nation, the Dragon Kingdom has already lost close to half its territory."
Lucian's voice dropped.
"That beastman nation attacks the Dragon Kingdom for more than just land..."
He paused for a beat.
"They take people. The Dragon Kingdom's humans are their food."
The moment those words landed, the air in the sitting room seemed to stop moving for an instant.
Lucian didn't look at Sebas's face.
He only lowered his eyes slightly. But he could feel it.
That small shift.
Something had entered the air.
Lucian's lashes moved slightly.
He lifted the teacup and took another sip of the cold tea.
When he raised his head again, his gaze passed over Sebas's face without seeming to.
Sebas's expression was still composed. Nothing on that deeply lined face had visibly changed.
But in those pale grey eyes, there was something being held back.
Only for a moment. Then Sebas lowered his gaze and the feeling was contained.
"In fact."
Lucian's voice broke the brief silence, a note of something like bitterness in it.
"For the past several years, I've been taking the cavalry from my domain to support the Dragon Kingdom."
Sebas looked up at him.
Lucian pulled the corner of his mouth into a smile that didn't fully reach. "The incident Mr. Sebas mentioned earlier, where I used a Martial Art to kill a powerful orc fighter — that happened during one of those campaigns."
He said it lightly, the tone of someone noting something of no particular consequence. But those pale green eyes held something close to helplessness and quiet self-reproach.
"Even so."
Lucian's voice dropped.
"The beastman nation has far more powerful fighters than the Dragon Kingdom has defenders. Alone, I can't do enough. Not nearly enough to protect more of its people."
The sitting room was quiet for a moment.
The mist continued its soundless spread beyond the window, the whole world seeming to be soaking slowly in grey dampness.
Sebas spoke.
"Mr. Lucian."
His voice was steady, carrying a gentle note of reassurance.
"You have no cause for self-reproach."
Sebas looked at him, something warm and genuine in his eyes.
"Helping those who are weaker is, in itself, something worth doing. What you've chosen to do is more than enough to move anyone who hears of it."
"You're right, Mr. Sebas."
Lucian drew a slow breath, as though pressing down something that had been moving inside him. Then he raised his head again, and the expression on his face settled back into its usual ease.
"But as for the dragon intelligence Mr. Sebas is looking for..."
A note of seriousness entered his voice.
"It happens to be connected to the Dragon Kingdom."
Something moved in Sebas's eyes.
"This nation was founded two hundred years ago by a true dragon king of considerable power."
Lucian's voice was unhurried, each word clearly placed.
"And the current ruler, Queen Draudillon, carries one-eighth of a true dragon king's bloodline."
He paused and met Sebas's gaze directly.
"Some of the more hidden information I have regarding these powerful dragon kings, I came across it during my support campaigns for the Dragon Kingdom."
Outside, the mist seemed to have eased slightly. The shapes of the flowers in the courtyard were becoming distinct again, their petals holding fine beads of rain that caught what little light there was and gave it back in small glimmers.
"So."
"If Mr. Sebas is willing to lend his strength to the Dragon Kingdom, the dragon intelligence you need would follow naturally."
Lucian looked at Sebas, his expression open.
"With someone of Mr. Sebas's ability, far more of the Dragon Kingdom's people could be protected this year. Kept from ending up as food for the beastmen."
He said it with complete sincerity. Nothing in it that looked like calculation.
Sebas was quiet.
The sitting room had gone still enough to hear individual raindrops sliding from the eaves outside and striking the stone pavement below. One, then another, each landing with a small, clear sound.
Lucian didn't press him.
He knew what Sebas was working through.
A dragonoid with a karma rating of positive three hundred, who had just heard that the Dragon Kingdom's people were being taken and eaten — there was no version of events in which he was unmoved. That sympathy for the weak was etched into the deepest part of who Sebas was.
But Sebas equally could not agree on his own authority.
He was Nazarick's head butler. A decision of this magnitude had to go through Ainz Ooal Gown.
Lucian's fingers traced quietly over the edge of the teacup.
As expected.
After a moment of silence, Sebas spoke.
"My apologies, Mr. Lucian."
A trace of genuine regret had entered Sebas's voice.
"This will require my lady's approval."
Said calmly, but Lucian could hear what was underneath it.
Sebas genuinely wanted to say yes. Genuinely wanted to go and help the people being ground under by the beastmen. But his responsibilities didn't allow him to make that call alone.
Nothing on Lucian's face suggested disappointment.
He gave a slight nod, his tone carrying understanding.
"Of course. Mr. Sebas is Miss Solution's butler, after all. Something this significant naturally requires her approval."
Sebas looked at him.
"I'll do my best to persuade my lady."
Something certain had entered his voice.
"With my lady's kind nature, I believe she will agree."
Lucian smiled, and said nothing more.
Sebas rose to his feet.
"Then, Mr. Lucian, I'll take my leave."
He gave a slight incline, offering his thanks.
Lucian rose as well and returned the gesture.
"Safe travels, Mr. Sebas."
He didn't try to keep him.
Sebas turned, and walked toward the door at his characteristic steady pace.
Lucian stood where he was and watched that perfectly upright figure disappear into the shadows of the corridor.
The footsteps grew gradually fainter.
The sitting room settled into quiet.
Lucian returned to his chair and lifted the tea.
The light outside had grown a little brighter than before.
He finished the last of the cold tea. The liquid was ice-cold, carrying that faint bitter aftertaste, and it slid down his throat and left a cool space in his chest.
*
In another house on the same row.
Solution sat by the window, The Aindra Travelogue spread open in front of her.
Her fingers held the edge of a page. She turned it. The paper made a dry, soft sound.
Solution's expression was, visibly and without any effort at concealment, one of disgust.
Brow faintly knotted, the corners of her mouth turned down, those eyes moving steadily across line after line of text with the particular look of someone enduring something against their will.
Like being made to eat a dish that disagreed with them, every bite a small ordeal, and not being allowed to stop.
This was Sebas's instruction.
Before they left, the meticulous head butler of Nazarick had called her in and explained the situation in his usual composed tone. If she was to play the role of a noble young lady from the Empire who had taken an interest in Mr. Lucian's work, she needed at minimum to actually know what was in it. In case Mr. Lucian asked questions. She couldn't afford to slip up.
Solution had wanted to object on the spot. She was a Pleiades battle maid of Nazarick, a level-fifty-seven existence. Why should she spend her time reading a boring travelogue written by a human?
She agreed in the end.
For the sake of completing the task Lord Ainz had assigned. Solution Epsilon had made a sacrifice.
This did not mean she was required to enjoy it.
Solution's gaze landed on a passage describing a sunrise over a valley.
Morning light like a golden waterfall. All things awakening in radiance. In that moment, the sacred quality of life made itself felt.
She rolled her eyes.
Humans truly were tedious creatures. The sun had simply illuminated some rocks. And yet this required so many words that amounted to absolutely nothing.
If the text had been describing the sounds a person made while dying, it might at least have been somewhat interesting.
She turned the page and kept reading. The pages moved under her fingers at a steady rhythm.
She was beginning to feel like the words might swallow her entirely when footsteps sounded from the corridor.
A familiar rhythm. Steady. Carrying a particular unhurried quality that belonged to a certain old-fashioned sense of dignity.
Sebas.
Solution snapped the book shut almost before she had finished recognizing the footsteps.
The Aindra Travelogue closed with a sharp sound, the air between its pages compressed and pushed out in a small gust.
She set it on her lap, folded both hands on top of it, and rearranged her expression from undisguised revulsion to the composed look appropriate to a young noblewoman.
The door opened.
Sebas walked in.
Solution raised her gaze to her superior, her eyes carrying the unmistakable quality of someone who very much needed to hear that something was over.
The look said plainly: can we stop now?
Sebas glanced at her. His gaze rested for a moment on the book in her lap. That deeply lined face showed no particular expression.
But he gave a slight nod, as though acknowledging that she hadn't slacked off.
Then he spoke.
"Solution. Contact Lord Ainz."
The expression of relief Solution had been assembling vanished. In its place came the composed attentiveness that suited a Pleiades battle maid.
"Yes."
She produced a magic scroll and activated the [Message] spell.
A moment later, the connection opened.
Sebas inclined his head slightly and directed his awareness into the link.
"Lord Ainz."
His voice settled into that deep, inward register — respectful as it always was when addressing Lord Ainz.
"Is this regarding progress in your intelligence gathering?"
Ainz Ooal Gown's voice came from the other end, low and measured.
"Yes, Lord Ainz."
Sebas's voice was steady. He began his report, methodical and clear.
When he had finished, silence held for a moment on the other end.
Then Sebas put forward his recommendation.
"It is my assessment that accompanying Mr. Lucian to the Dragon Kingdom is the best course of action."
Another silence from the other end.
*
Great Tomb of Nazarick. The Throne Room.
Ainz Ooal Gown sat on the throne, the dark red light in his eye sockets pulsing faintly.
He raised his head and looked down from the throne.
Albedo was standing there.
The skirt of her pure white ceremonial gown lay spread like snow across the stone, catching the magical light in a soft sheen. Her hands were folded in front of her, her posture reverent, but those golden vertical pupils were fixed directly on Ainz with a devotion that made no effort to conceal itself.
She had been looking at him that way since before the [Message] arrived.
Ainz had long since grown accustomed to that gaze. Or rather — he had learned to maintain the composure appropriate to a Supreme Being while under it. But somewhere deep inside, in the part of him that was still Suzuki Satoru, that gaze occasionally produced a faint, involuntary unease.
This wasn't the moment to dwell on that.
"Regarding Sebas's [Message], Albedo. What are your thoughts?"
Ainz's voice filled the Throne Room. He had extended an open [Message] link to Albedo as well.
Albedo blinked, as though being called back from somewhere pleasant. She tilted her head slightly, and something thoughtful moved across that striking face.
After a moment she spoke.
"My thinking is that it might be simpler to have Mr. Lucian apprehended and handed over to Neuronist Painkill for an interrogation."
Neuronist Painkill.
Nazarick's Special Intelligence Extraction Officer.
Located deep within the Ice Prison on the fifth underground floor, keeper of a chamber known as the House of Truth. Its appearance was unsettling — pale, bloated skin like a waterlogged corpse, tentacles growing from its head where hair should have been, and despite all of this, a profound and seemingly genuine vanity about itself.
Total combat level: twenty-three. Race levels: Brain Eater Lv7. Class levels: Priest Lv3, Doctor Lv10, God Hand Lv3.
By the standards of Nazarick's many powerful residents, a level like that was barely worth noting.
But its methods of interrogation were something else entirely.
Inside the House of Truth, nearly every subject that had been sent in had ended by choosing death over continuing.
***
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