Chapter 128: Ainz's Probe
"Excellent!" Baron Chenako nodded several times. "Then I'll go back and arrange transport at once. Tomorrow morning I will be waiting at the city gate to receive Mr. Momon and Miss Nabe."
He gave his farewell bow to Momon, then turned toward Narberal, hesitated a moment, and gave her the same bow.
"Mr. Momon, Miss Nabe — until tomorrow."
The smile never left that lean, thin face. He turned and walked to the door, his steps as light as if he were walking on clouds.
The door closed softly behind him.
The footsteps faded down the corridor, echoed a few times, and disappeared in the direction of the stairs.
The meeting room went quiet.
Narberal finally pulled her gaze back in.
"Tch."
That single syllable carried unconcealed disgust.
"The Kingdom really does have no shortage of worthless nobles." Her gaze moved to Momon, a thread of irritation in those eyes. "A paramecium like that, daring to look at me that way."
Momon didn't respond.
"That baron," Narberal continued, "exudes something nauseating from head to toe. If it weren't for Ainz-sama's plan—"
"Nabe." Momon's voice cut her off.
Narberal closed her mouth, though the displeasure on her face didn't diminish in the slightest.
Momon tilted his head, the gaze beneath the full-face helmet settling on her.
"Enduring idiots is genuinely difficult." He said, offering something in the way of consolation. "But this concerns Ainz-sama's plan."
He paused.
"I hope you can bear it for now."
Narberal pressed her lips together and didn't argue.
From beginning to end, the reason the First Prince had been able to learn of the Darkness team so quickly was that the information had been deliberately fed to him by Demiurge. The result was exactly as Demiurge had predicted: the First Prince dispatched a baron to recruit them. Momon and Narberal had known the baron was coming.
Narberal was quiet for a moment. The corner of her mouth curled slightly.
"As expected."
"The only purpose of a paramecium like that is to walk into the script right on cue."
Then she turned her head toward the window.
"I'm hoping," she said, almost to herself, "to deal with some cockroaches along the way."
Momon heard it.
"About that request."
Narberal turned her head.
"I'll pass it along to Demiurge." Momon's voice was steady. "A minor matter like this shouldn't affect the overall plan."
He paused.
"Ainz-sama will agree."
Narberal's expression finally shifted, just slightly.
"Thank you."
Her voice carried a trace of genuine gratitude.
---
Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Ainz sat at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him.
Albedo stood at his side, her gaze following his movements down to the papers on the desk.
This was Ainz's ingenious scheme.
He had arranged for Nazarick's members to submit suggestions anonymously — as cover for gauging Albedo's honest opinion of his aesthetic judgment.
After all, both Demiurge and E-Rantel's citizens had found that gesture impressive. If even Albedo agreed, he could put his mind at ease entirely.
Of course, the prerequisite was that Albedo must not realize one of the proposals was his. Otherwise she would very likely endorse his proposal simply because he was the Supreme Being.
What Ainz needed was an objective assessment.
For this purpose, Ainz had gone through all the proposals in advance and copied them out in a unified hand, deliberately disrupting his own vocabulary and phrasing habits as well. He had mixed his own proposal in among the others so it wouldn't stand out.
"Now then, let's see what suggestions the members of the Great Tomb have submitted."
Ainz picked up the top sheet.
He scanned it. He had read it before and made notes on it already, but reading it again still gave him a mild headache.
He cleared his throat and read it aloud.
"It is suggested that Nazarick produce more Ainz-sama merchandise — such as mugs featuring Ainz-sama's likeness, or a life-size body pillow of Ainz-sama. Rationale: this would strengthen the Great Tomb members' loyalty and serve as a constant source of motivation in their daily work, giving them greater drive."
After the last word, Ainz propped his skull up with his hand in mild distress.
The proposal... how to put it... wasn't entirely without logic.
But a mug featuring his skull face. And a life-size body pillow. Could Nazarick's members truly drink from a skull-printed cup and sleep next to one?
"Albedo, what do you think of this—"
Ainz hadn't finished speaking before Albedo cut across him: "I think this proposal is excellent!"
Her voice was bright with excitement, those golden slit-pupils gleaming with undisguised anticipation.
Ainz's jawbone dropped open in shock.
He turned and looked at Albedo.
That flawlessly beautiful face wore a smile that was almost dreamlike — the corners of her mouth lifted, eyes curved like crescent moons, her entire bearing radiating an unmistakable energy of please just agree already.
A thought flashed through Ainz's mind.
This proposal wouldn't happen to have been written by Albedo, would it?
But the anonymous submission rule kept him from asking.
He pulled his gaze back, looked again at the paper in his hand, and found himself caught between two equally unappealing options.
Agree? Too mortifying. Refuse? That anticipatory look in Albedo's eyes made it hard to say no.
In the end, Ainz decided to meet it halfway.
"The mug is acceptable." He conceded this enormous ground with resignation. "But the life-size body pillow... no."
Albedo's eyes lit up briefly, then dimmed by a few degrees.
She lowered her head slightly, in the manner of someone bearing a painful compromise.
"As you command, Ainz-sama."
Ainz exhaled inside himself, set the first sheet aside, and picked up the second.
His finger bones tightened slightly the instant they touched the paper.
This was the one he had written himself.
"It is suggested that Nazarick design a unified uniform and salute for its members, to strengthen the Great Tomb's cohesion."
Alongside the text, the paper also thoughtfully included drawings of the uniform design and the salute.
But Ainz's drawing ability was not, by any honest measure, good. The lines were wobbly. The uniform's proportions were severely distorted. The saluting arm looked like a branch that had forced its way directly out of the shoulder.
Ainz's throat instinctively tightened.
He made every effort to keep his voice steady and read the proposal aloud.
Albedo listened in silence.
The silence stretched for several seconds.
"...What a completely low-grade idea. Who on earth came up with this?"
Albedo's voice went cold. Her expression shifted to undisguised distaste. She frowned at the drawing on the paper, regarding it the way one regards something foul.
Something inside Ainz was stabbed, quite thoroughly, by something invisible.