Chapter 130

The three concubines, as well as the sons and daughters of Olasird'arc landed amidst the farms and spoke with trembling mouths, "Gather the Quagoa, all of them… our nest is lost, a demon has awakened!"

Pe Riyuro looked up at the high faces of the dragons which loomed over him in the past like the clap of doom, and now he felt none of the awe he once did for those creatures. They were trembling, shivering, they reeked of fear.

'I should be savoring this.' He thought.

But he did not.

Because he was wise.

'If something exists that can terrify even dragons, what chance do 'we' have?' The quagoa's greatest chief asked himself that question right away and the answer came to him as fast as it had been asked. 'Less than none.'

But that didn't mean there wasn't knowledge he still needed.

"What happened?! What demon?! Where is Lord Olasird'arc?!" He said it far more strongly than he should have been able to given the rising fear that set his body quivering enough, that his fur shook more than the breeze alone allowed for.

"I do not know." The eldest of the three concubines replied.

"He fled?" Pe Riyuro couldn't have accepted that. Denial rose in his gut.

The eldest son spoke up, "No. Father was defeated, and the demon threw him… very hard."

"So he hit the mountain wall and-" Pe Riyuro clapped his jaw shut when he was interrupted.

"-went through it. He was thrown so hard that he hit the wall of the mountain, crashed through the stone… he just… the demon threw my father into the air, and if he landed, I know not where."

"Where did it come from…? The Great Rift or…?" Another concubine shook her head at the question.

"No! We saw, the treasury door was open, noises were heard inside, Jaldabaoth spoke of being released from… confinement? A sealed object… something?" She shut her ice blue eyes tight, "It's all chaos now, but-"

"The treasury, something in the dwarven treasury held that… thing." Another of the concubines nodded.

"Is he coming this way, my Ladies, my Lords?" Pe Riyuro asked of them with dread. 'Something that could kill that dragon… and shatter a mountain side?'

"No. He was asking something about the dwarves and 'their quagoa' and wanting to find something that held his army." One of the… seemingly dead dragon lord's daughters said with a shudder.

"Gather your warriors, all of them. That thing hates you, and dwarves, and we do not know what else!" The eldest concubine commanded.

If there had been somewhere to go, the Quagoa Great Chief would have disobeyed her. He would have gathered his armies, his people… and simply left. But they had no other range. 'We can't fight during the day, we're blind, so we're stuck within the underground. No Kingdom would take in such numbers, we'll be slaves, 'worse' than what Olasird'arc did with us for we would have many overlords rather than merely one. We have to do something…'

So he came to the obvious conclusion. "I obey." He said and whirled on the escort with him.

"Call all our armies back together, everyone. Now!" He roared the order, and the stiff bodied functionary that had been trapped in a state of fear and awe, turned and fled to obey his chief.

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Riding into Feoh Ger was something Ainz lacked the descriptives for. The street was indeed clear, which with various dwarves 'had' been using the street only moments before, now standing well out of his way. 'I feel like I'm on a parade… but a parade that nobody expected and don't know who is parading, or why, or how they're supposed to feel about it.'

On the interesting side, it was a remarkable chance to look at how an intact and inhabited dwarven city functioned. The streets were orderly and clean, the glowstones were placed at regular intervals providing a persistent soft level of light, but what he most noticed was the pungent scent of beer.

Beer.

Beer.

And more beer.

While it was clear they had very different types, the foamy smell was everywhere and inescapable.

The dwarves themselves seemed to wear stone tones and darker shades, they had little use it seemed for forest colors or greenery, the brightest color they seemed to wear was a burgundy shade of red, and even that was comparatively scarce.

'Do they not have the dyes to do it, or does it just not fit into their culture?' The question seemed trivial, but one thing the salesman in him reminded Ainz of, was that any detail of a culture could have broad implications, far broader than recognizable to the outsider. 'You should have learned about us before coming with that offensive color…' There was nothing he could say to such an assertion.

'On the upside though, they are in a bad way with the quagoa being aggressive, if what Hejinmal said was true. This may very well be their last real stronghold.' The dwarves did seem to be somewhat more haggard than in Zenberu's memories. 'War weariness perhaps?' It seemed possible.

Riding through the city as he did, it still took quite some time to reach the center, well over an hour in fact, with crowds moving aside, but then strange as it seemed, life resuming behind him before he'd even turned another corner.

'Pragmatic, no intention of wasting time.' The inner office worker told him, and little by little the center of the dwarven government came into view.

It said something about the status of the dwarf acting as Ainz' herald, that the entire council arrayed itself on the steps, half a dozen dwarves in clothing that was slightly less work oriented than the others. At least where manual labor was concerned. They didn't wear overalls or thick, heavy boots. They were barrel chested, and in contrast to the others Ainz saw, a little fat. 'Do their women have beards too, or do they have no women at all?'

He asked the question with some sudden discomfort, Zenberu's memory of their nearly uniform appearances seemed to be more accurate than Ainz expected. Other than the colors of their beards and slight variations among the eyes, distinguishing one dwarf from the next was quite hard.

'At least their clothing is different.' Ainz thought as Hejinmal came to a stop a few paces behind their herald.

Before he could address them, a message came in.

'My Lord,' Demiurge said, 'I have taken care of the most powerful of the dragons and sent the others running, I am prepared to enact the next phase of your master plan, but… it shames me to admit this, I may need to borrow an item from the treasury.'

'Of course, Demiurge,' Ainz replied. While the thought, 'Plan?! Why do they always think I have a plan?!' ran through his mind. 'I am about to speak with the council of the dwarves, I will take lodging here for tonight, then we will speak and I will- I will permit you to explain what you have worked out.'

'Thank you! Thank you, merciful lord!' Demiurge replied with deep relief and a sigh Ainz could hear in his head before he killed the connection.

He then faced the dwarves who were shifting with visible discomfort, "I am King Ainz Ooal Gown, ruler of the Kingdom of Nazarick. I am here to negotiate."