Her sisters were more than happy to remain where they were when the trio passed them by on exiting the house, though where Lord Ainz was taking her, Arche couldn’t even begin to guess. The long and convoluted route of halls and rooms were almost too much to believe, though Sebas and her new master took it in stride.

One thing she did notice was that there was a definite slightly downward slope to be had, nothing large, just ‘barely’ noticeable. But present.

The dark stone was inky black, though to her dismay, though the stonework appeared stacked, the floor beneath her feet was smooth as if it had been made from one solid piece. ‘Combined by magic, or joined by magic I can’t even fathom?’ She asked herself and had no answer.

It was a struggle just to keep her jaw from dropping when she found herself at a solid white double door. “Is that… wood?” She asked with uncertainty, it seemed far too smooth.

Ainz looked over his shoulder, “No, this is a kind of prismatic ore, naturally enchanted materials that this world may or may not have more of. It is ‘vastly’ stronger than adamantite and its innate magic easily modified to purpose.”

Arche felt her mind implode at the very idea, but could do nothing but accept it. “It will only open to the bearer of one of these rings.” He said, holding his hand up to show the ring she had kissed earlier.

He laid his hand against the surface, and the double doors swung open to reveal… nothing special. A magic circle of white on a black stone floor, and a small raised stone platform against a far wall with two sets of steps on either side, and an obsidian looking podium rising at the front center of the platform.

“Stand in that circle, Arche.” Ainz ordered when the door closed behind them.

With slow, fearful, small steps, she did as her master ordered, she looked up at her new lord, feeling like a little bird caught in a hurricane. She didn’t ask for mercy when she stood there, clutching her staff.

“Sebas, prepare to defend if this goes wrong, and if it does, do not let her leave this room alive.” Ainz ordered, and Arche’s face went pale.

“My lord, I won’t betray you… I swear it…” She squeaked the words, but he waved them off.

“I believe you, but this is a new experiment, and those have uncertain ends, I am cautious by nature, so please do not take offense at what I’ve said.” Ainz meant what he said, and he saw her relax at his reassurance.

Curiosity bubbled up in her when she saw him touching something on the podium, and it made her wonder if it was more, but, commanded to stand there, she obeyed.

‘Interesting.’ Ainz noted, ‘Very interesting.’ He looked down at the console screen from the game, it had remained in a functional state, and it listed the full roster of both guild members and the NPCs. Conveniently enough, as he moved his finger along the roster, he could see their statuses. And more conveniently than that, it let him sort through them alphabetically by name, by level, or by any number of other things such as specific attributes, karma ratings, and more. He chose alphabetical, and began to search the list.

‘Albedo.’ He saw the name and felt the wave of guilt again, but that vanished with the joy of success when he saw another name.

‘Arche.’ Her ‘oath’ added her to the list, and it let him see her specific statistical scores. ‘Level seventeen… level cap reached. Excess exp cannot be applied.’ Ainz tried not to smile at this success, because a pulsing glow of gold in a little white rectangle on the console was the option, ‘Increase Level Cap’.

Ainz tapped it. The words changed to the price. ‘One hundred thousand coins.’ He read, glanced up at Arche, saw her nervous look, and then went back to minding the console. ‘A hundred thousand is substantial… nothing compared to what we have on hand, but… yes. If I take over an entire country, I can funnel a part of the wealth into creating all the powerful figures I need, I’ll still have to level them up, but my experiment with Lupusregina showed that I could do that much. And there may be ‘other’ players out there to contend against. At least for now, this experiment is worth the price.’

He tapped the payment request, and looked up to watch.

Arche felt herself begin to float, her hair rising up over her head like it was caught by an upward draft, her body rising from the floor, her legs kicked out to find purchase that wasn’t available, fear began to overwhelm her. ‘Am I being punished for something?! What’s happening to me?!’ She screamed inside her own head, and gave a desperate voice to her terror, “M-Master… what’s happening… what is this… please… if I’ve done something wrong…” Then there was nothing, only darkness.

Barbro stood in the center of the village. It was as empty as he heard. “Pathetic.” He cursed. “Absolutely pathetic.”

He pointed to one of the men behind him, “Burn it down. I don’t even want to look at it.”

“But sire, more villagers will be moved in, where will they stay?” The armored soldier asked.

“Dirt staying in the dirt is fine, they can build new places here, if they want something, they should work for it, not expect us to just hand them homes they didn’t build for work they haven’t done. Is my tent set up yet?” Barbro asked the most important question and looked off toward the orange glow of the setting sun.

“Ah, yes, Sire, it is. Your entertainment is in there as well, and a cook has prepared a meal for you.” The soldier answered the unasked questions that were implied by his first one, and so he grunted out in impatience.

“Good, get this burned up already, anything you find, you can keep. Tomorrow morning when the scouts come back, we should have some idea of where the trash blew off to.” Barbro snapped at the brown bearded soldier and wheeled about to leave the center of the trash heap that was the village.

He didn’t look back to watch the sights that went with the sounds of the looting soldiers, extra food, clothing, any tools they could find, things like that always helped set soldiers at ease and it offset the overall cost of any military action to let them plunder a bit, so it didn’t matter.

He moved aside the red velvet fabric of the tent and looked around. He had an oversized cot with an actual field mattress. A bear skin that had been stuffed and sewn up tight, it was supremely comfortable on his body. It was more comfort than his entertainment had likely ever had.

‘Eight Fingers picked a good one for me this time.’ Barbro thought with some admiration for their skills. She didn’t look up at him from her place on her knees. Completely healed and bathed, one would never know she’d ever been injured. But the broken, fearful look in her pretty blue eyes when she looked up at him, spoke volumes about what lessons the world had taught to her.

Her blonde hair had been kept long, but braided like a certain sexy adventurer that shot his flirtations down like he’d shot down many a bird on the wing. The broad, powerfully built Prince gritted his teeth, the braid and look of this one had been by his express request, but that didn’t make him less resentful, as if the adamantite adventurer she was made up to look like, were actually fearful on her knees and in front of him.

‘Eight Fingers has been such a profitable partnership for me, that was the best idea I ever had, and what did it cost but a few bits of information here and there, and nobody is the wiser.’ Barbro thought, and felt his shaft harden, he unbuckled his belt.

“What’s your name, girl?” Barbro asked.

“Tuare, sir, T-Tuare.” She kept her eyes in the dirt and slowly lowered her arms away from her breasts, exposing them to his eyes.

“Tuare…” Barbro grumbled as the belt slid off from around his waist, he folded it in one hand, and then brought it down hard across her cheek when she looked up, she yelped like a wounded dog when the blow hit and snapped her face away. “Your name is what I tell you it is.”

“Yessir!” She squealed and touched the wounded cheek where a streak of blood already opened up.

“Now, what’s your name, girl?” He asked again, peeling off his clothing.

“Whateveryoutellmesir!” She whimpered, tears already formed in her eyes.

“Lakyus, your name is Lakyus. Do you understand, slut?” Barbro ground the hated name out.

“Yessir, m-my name is Lakyus.” She bit her lower lip.

“Is Lakyus a worthless little slut?” He demanded, and she nodded, watching as tears fell into the dust.

“Yessir, Lakyus is a worthless little slut who just wants to make her betters happy.” Tuare whimpered.

“Then crawl over here Lakyus, and start sucking.” Barbro laughed and watched the way the long blonde braid fell to trail in the dirt when the Eight Fingers prostitute obeyed.

He snatched up the braid and wrapped it around his hand like a leash when she rose up, and sighed as heat engulfed his member. ‘Ahhhh, yes, adamantite or not, she should have known there’d be consequences for displeasing me…’ He thought, and went on indulging in his fantasy with the substitute he’d been given.

‘It’s good to be the Prince.’ He thought, a half hour later, when he shuddered and heard one of his favorite sounds, the steady ‘gulp’ of ‘Lakyus’ from down on her knees.

“Was it really a good idea to get my brother interested in making a name for himself by chasing down peasants?” Prince Zanac asked his little sister.

“Yes, brother dear. If you want even a ‘chance’ at the throne, it is.” Princess Renner said, and looked to Marquis Raeven. The thin well dressed noble had his mouth shut and did not have the ingratiating posture most nobles wore when speaking with the royal family. As one of the few trusted members of the Royal faction, he got leeway in private that others never did. “Tell me, Marquis Raeven, what do you think that our oldest brother will do?”

“Kill peasants, burn villages, and pretend he has accomplished something, even though all he has produced is arrogance, noise, and death.” The Marquis gave the brutal assessment of the crown Prince without any hint of doubt, but it was still a shocking admission to the ears of Prince Zanac.

“You don’t think he’ll even try to find the ones actually responsible for the death?” Prince Zanac asked of the nobleman.

Raeven brushed his hair aside with one hand and slumped forward, his golden hair had a wavy look, his thin nose and slender face were accentuated by strong golden eyebrows that were naturally furrowed and gave him a fearsome, intense look. But the true power of the man, Prince Zanac and Princess Renner both knew, was that he was a canny politician, able to play both sides of the coin at once without making enemies of either.

Raeven’s one devotion, Renner knew, was to his son’s future, which as the savvy politician knew, required a strong king and a strong kingdom, and so she trusted him to back the royal faction against the divisive noble faction that wanted a weak government for their own selfish reasons.

“I think he’ll try for a week, get bored, and start killing people. When or even if he finds the right people, he might stop, but if he can’t, he’ll kill a thousand or two to avenge the trash and score a few short term political points.” Raeven said, doing his best not to spit in disgust at the pointless brutality.

“Sister, why would you…” Prince Zanac tried to wrap his head around the truth, Renner told him herself that she set him on this path, which as it was laid out by Raeven, would cost many innocent lives. But she was also the one who protested against slavery and used most of her allowance, simply giving it to the poor of the capital.

“Because, we need a bargain, here and now.” Renner’s sweet eyes were gone and in their place was fanatical will, “Brother, I do not want the throne. I want one thing and one thing only. I want my Climb. Let me marry my Climb, let me have him, and I care for nothing else.”

The younger Prince was very quiet, his first impulse, to spit out, ‘That peasant boy’ wilted on his tongue, the face before him fit with many a long heard rumor, that misfortune befell those who were cruel to her bodyguard. Her request, and her face, all but confirmed them.

“I do not love our oldest brother, he is cruel to my Climb, treats me with contempt, he is lazy, incompetent, and a coward at heart. Besides, you know he is in bed with Eight Fingers, don’t you, Zanac?” Renner asked rhetorically, she knew he knew, because the source was sitting with them both.

“Y-es. I do. He gambles, uses their whores, takes bribes for information, and more. He’s as corrupt as any of the nobility. Father doesn’t know, but if he did?” Zanac folded his hands together in his lap and looked down, “It would kill him to know the truth.”

“Now he won’t have to, I’ll do what I can, brother, you’ll have to do your part, of course, but all I want at the end is for Climb and I to be together.” Renner replied to her brother quite reasonably, “Any points he gains will be worthless very quickly, and when they are, you will be out front to inherit the throne. Our good Marquis,” she extended a hand toward the gold and white clad nobleman, “will use his connections to the noble faction to demand a successor be named, and then there can only be one answer.” She gestured with her other hand to Prince Zanac. “A few thousand peasants for a throne, that’s the way these things work, isn’t it?”

“And what if my stupid brother tries to leverage Climb’s life against you for information?” Zanac asked, his chubby face went tight at the suggestion. The Princesses had little power, and despite her beauty and reputation, even Barbro knew there was more to the woman and would use her if he could.

Princess Renner’s eyes went glassy and wide, a dreadful, insane smile spread over her face, all was twisted, warped, mad, and an air of absolute malice hovered over her like the wavering ripples in the air above a hot flame.

Her answer left no doubt about her seriousness, and all doubt was wiped away as she retorted, “Then I will make him suffer so much… so much that people will pity him for ten thousand years, and his name will be used to describe suffering for ten thousand more…”