Chapter 135

Ainz made the most stately walk he could manage to the far end of the room. His rich mage robes swayed around his calves until they came to a slow stop when he turned around and faced the runesmiths.

"Be seated." Ainz said to the assembled dwarves, and when they sat, he asked one straightforward question. "Does your art have a future here?"

The rumble of dwarves was like a distant thunder, their discontent obvious, their faces reddened within the open space around their many colored beards. Some of them actually shook with rage, while others had their eyes glassed over with tears of frustration or despair.

Only the fire-bearded Gondo chose to speak. "No. I've tried to make them see, tried harder than anybody knows or could even imagine." His tense body slumped in his chair, his arms fell out of his lap where they sat and hung dead at his sides like weary fish that had given up fighting the fisherman's deadly line.

"But nothing works." Gondo shook his head.

"Do you want to restore your craft again?" Ainz asked of them, "Do you want to make..." And then reaching into his pocket dimension, he drew again the sword which held them spellbound in the square, "this?"

"Ooohs" and "ahhhhs" came from the dozens of mouths beneath the dozens of eyes that looked with an almost lustful hunger. Ainz looked out over the little sea of bearded faces, and reflexively handed the Yggdrasil sword to Gondo.

"If we follow you… we get to try to rediscover the lost arts that made this thing of beauty?" Gondo asked, and every eye shifted from the blade, to Ainz himself. It was only with the greatest reluctance, and the greatest reverence, that Gondo passed the sword from one hand to another so that each smith of the dying art got to hold it.

"Yes. I will provide you with the resources, metals, food, shelter, clothing, equipment, workspace, all that you need. I've already spoken with your leaders. They are willing to accept your departure, on condition of your good treatment, but they didn't care about losing your craft." Ainz said, and with that he drove the final nail into the coffin of the dwarven runesmiths to remain in their country.

"Will you come with me?" Ainz asked when the sword made its way back to him. He took the blade and opened his dimensional storage to store it.

Gondo's eyes widened, nor were his alone in doing so. 'The sword! If I don't go with him, I'll never see it again!' The thought came not only to him, but to all the runesmiths, and before the pocket dimension closed and the hand of the King withdrew, the dwarves were on their feet again.

"I will!" They shouted with such violent, frantic enthusiasm it was as if they feared there was a time limit on his question.

The next hour to three was a whirlwind of activity as the runesmiths insisted on lining up, and one by one, kneeling before the king and swearing their loyalty.

The first among them was Gondo Firebeard. "I pledge my craft, mind, and soul to your service." He said with his head bowed low.

It was short, simple, pragmatic, and every bit what Ainz was beginning to expect out of the dwarves. He said it with such fervence that when he rose and stood aside, each dwarf after him repeated the same phrase.

When it was finally over Ainz gave them simple instructions. "Get your rest, get the things you need, and get ready to work hard for me."

"Yes, sire!" The runesmiths cried out, and finally began to filter out of his presence.

Gondo alone remained to escort Ainz to his temporary quarters. It was a luxuriously large building, at least as far as the simple, spartan dwarven architecture went. But it was furnished with fine materials, a good, broad bed with a thick mattress, blankets, a single wide black pillow, the same as the blanket.

"I will be in the room just outside your own, Your Highness." Gondo said and pointed to the door nearby.

"I should be fine, but I will call you if I need anything." Ainz said as he stood in the center of the room.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Gondo replied with a broad and greatly relieved smile spread over his face.

Ainz inclined his head in a polite nod, and the door closed behind the dwarf a moment later as Gondo left him alone.

As soon as that was the case, Ainz cast several spells in rapid succession.

[Silence of the Grave], [Hide Presence], [Conceal Greater Magic].

Each spell briefly lit the air around him, and it was done. When it was, Ainz cast [Message]. "Demiurge, I am ready for you."

The [Gate] opened, and Demiurge stepped out from the whorling void and knelt before his master.

"My Lord." He said with his head bowed, "How goes your master plan?"

'What master plan?' Ainz asked himself with annoyance. "Very well. The runesmiths are mine, and the dwarves are discussing coming over to my side."

The crystalline eyes sparkled on the face of the demon. "As expected of the Last Supreme Being. My own feeble efforts are a mere shadow of your wisdom. In accordance with my pathetic understanding of your grand design, I have…"

And then for the next two hours Demiurge explained the story of Jaldabaoth, the demon emperor, the 'ancient awakened evil', his killing of the leader of the frost dragons, and the chaos he sowed among the dwarves and the quagoa. "In fact, some of both are on the way here."

Demiurge went on to explain his 'missing army' and the clues he left in the ears of the quagoan, dragon, and dwarven witnesses.

"I had planned to use some of the pop monsters of Nazarick for that purpose, uniting all races under the mountain against the Demon Emperor, and thus, in accordance with your masterful plan, put them under you. I will have to thin their numbers of course…"

Ainz held up his hand and went to sit on the bed.

Demiurge stopped. He had a smile on his face that reminded Ainz of a child presenting a project to his parents after working hard on it. Eager for approval, eager for their pride. But to that, Ainz could say very little. 'I can't let him run wild, but I don't want to hurt him either… and if I can keep the quagoa and the dwarves in fear and awe of him, that will bind them tighter to me and prevent future deaths.' Ainz thought about that and let his hands fall limp on his lap.

He considered the former question, what he'd asked before entering the mountain, and changed it. "Demiurge… What was Ulbert to you?"