Chapter 10: The Watcher's Gambit and the Succubus's Arrival
Ainz's recovery from the Nazarick Beacon ritual was surprisingly swift. His expanded mana reserves, fueled by the potent soul of the Blackmorass guardian, now refilled with an efficiency that bordered on alarming, even to him. It was as if his human vessel, initially a restrictive dam, was rapidly adapting to the torrent of power he represented, its channels widening, its capacity burgeoning. Within a day, he felt restored, the lingering exhaustion replaced by a thrumming, eager energy.
Sebas reported that the watcher, Nyx as Demiurge had named her internally, had shown signs of agitation during the energy release of the beacon. Her observation patterns had become erratic for several hours before she resumed her usual cautious, distant surveillance. It was confirmation, however indirect, that the ritual had produced a significant, detectable output.
Ser Desmond Grell, the young Tully knight, remained blissfully unaware of these deeper currents. He attributed Lord Elian's day of seclusion to the necessary recovery from "profound scholarly endeavors" and "communing with the ancient spirits of his lineage," a narrative Maester Hannis eagerly, if nervously, supported. Ser Desmond's dispatches to Riverrun were likely painting a picture of Greywater Keep as a place of rustic simplicity punctuated by moments of terrifying, inexplicable power, its young lord an enigma wrapped in ancient mystery, guided by an advisor of preternatural wisdom.
The success of the beacon, however uncertain its reach, filled Ainz with a renewed sense of urgency. The need to find his scattered children, his loyal Guardians, burned brighter than ever.
Aboard the 'Sea Serpent,' cutting through the choppy waters of the Narrow Sea…
Albedo stood on the foredeck, a figure of impossible, devastating beauty, her black wings furled tightly beneath a heavy, high-collared traveling cloak designed to obscure her non-human features. The sea spray did little to dampen the incandescent fire in her golden eyes. Her beloved Ainz-sama was alive, he was in Westeros, and he had called for them. For her.
The mobilization from Pentos had been a masterclass in ruthless efficiency. The 'Sea Serpent,' the fastest carrack in the Pentoshi merchant fleet, had been "requisitioned" with its captain and crew, their initial protests dissolving into terrified, unquestioning obedience when Albedo had allowed a fraction of her [Command Mantra]'s aura to leak out. Gold, supplies, and a few carefully selected, magically concealed undead servitors – skeletal mages and death knights for heavy work, should it be needed – were loaded within hours. Her human agents in Pentos, now utterly fanatical after brief exposure to her true power and promises of reward in her coming new world order, had smoothed every bureaucratic wrinkle with alarming speed.
The voyage itself had been swift. A brief encounter with a pirate galley, its crew doubtless expecting easy plunder, had ended abruptly. Albedo hadn't even needed to reveal her true form. A single, targeted [Chain Dragon Lightning] spell, cast from her outstretched hand and attributed by the terrified crew to a "sudden, divine storm," had left the pirate ship a blazing, sinking wreck, its occupants screaming as they were consumed by fire and water. The captain of the 'Sea Serpent' had thereafter sailed with a new, fervent piety, ensuring his ship and crew performed flawlessly.
Albedo's thoughts were a whirlwind of ecstatic anticipation and meticulous planning. How would she find him once she made landfall? The beacon had given a direction – the Riverlands – but it was a vast territory. She would need to gather information, establish a base, and extend her senses. She considered the other Guardians. Demiurge, with his cunning, would already be formulating intricate plans. Shalltear… Albedo felt a familiar pang of jealous annoyance. The lamprey would undoubtedly try to reach Ainz-sama first. Unacceptable. Cocytus, Aura, Mare – they would be invaluable. And Sebas… a loyal butler, but perhaps too… constrained by his human guise if he had adopted one.
No matter, Albedo vowed, her grip tightening on the ornate, disguised battle-axe, Hermes Trismegistus, she carried beneath her cloak. I will be the first to kneel before him, the first to bask in his glorious presence anew. I will ensure his safety, his comfort, his absolute dominion over this primitive, pathetic world. The thought of being reunited with her beloved Ainz, of feeling his skeletal hand upon her head in praise, sent shivers of exquisite pleasure through her.
In the grim expanse of Harrenhal, Demiurge processed the latest report from Nyx. The energy spike she had described – localized, immensely powerful, yet not overtly destructive, and bearing a signature that resonated with his deepest understanding of their Master's unique magical essence – confirmed his suspicions. Lord Ainz was not merely adapting; he was actively attempting to reach out, to gather his forces.
"A beacon…" Demiurge mused, a complex array of calculations unfolding in his brilliant mind. "Audacious. Risky. And utterly characteristic of Lord Ainz's strategic boldness when the stakes are high."
He then considered the other variable: Albedo. Her devotion to Lord Ainz was a force of nature, as predictable as it was terrifying in its intensity. If she had perceived that beacon, and Demiurge had little doubt she would have the sensitivity to do so, she would already be a black-winged hurricane en route to its source. This added a new layer of complexity. Albedo's direct, often… overwhelming approach could disrupt Lord Ainz's presumably delicate maneuvering in his current 'Elian Hollow' guise.
"Nyx," he projected via the communication shard, "your previous instructions are amplified. The subject 'Hollow' is of paramount importance. His abilities, his intentions, the true nature of 'Tian' – I require comprehensive intelligence. You are authorized to take calculated risks to obtain this. Infiltration of Greywater Keep is now a primary objective, not merely an opportunity. Succeed, and your rewards will be… substantial."
Failure, Demiurge did not need to add, would have equally significant consequences.
At Greywater Keep, life settled into a new rhythm. The formal sanction from House Tully, coupled with the ever-growing legend of Lord Elian's powers, began to attract more than just awe. A neighboring hamlet, even smaller and poorer than Oakhaven, sent a delegation pleading for House Hollow's protection, offering their fealty and what little tribute they could muster. Ainz, as Elian, accepted, his domain and resources expanding slowly but steadily.
His focus, however, was now firmly on the north-east, towards the Whispering Peaks and the Dragon's Teeth Hills. Maester Hannis, with Sebas's quiet assistance, had unearthed a few more fragmented legends from dusty scrolls and local folklore. They spoke of a "Hill of Screaming Winds," a place where the dead were said to walk during winter storms, and of ancient First Men kings who had built their fortresses amongst the "Dragon's Teeth," supposedly using stones imbued with primal magic to ward off the Children of the Forest.
Ainz decided on the expedition. "We travel light and fast," he announced to Sebas. "You and I. Hal and Timms will remain to command Greywater's defense. They have proven their loyalty, and your training, Sebas, has made them… adequate."
"And Ser Desmond?" Sebas inquired.
Ainz allowed a faint smile, the Elian persona firmly in place. "Ser Desmond, a knight of his caliber, is wasted on a mere scouting mission into desolate hills. He has expressed keen interest in our methods of local governance and defense. I shall assign him the crucial task of overseeing the integration of our newest vassal hamlet, Hilltop Cross, and ensuring Lord Tully's peace is meticulously maintained in our expanded territories. He will have ample opportunity to observe and report on House Hollow's diligent administration."
Sebas inclined his head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "A most suitable deployment for the young knight, my lord." It would keep Ser Desmond occupied, happy, and safely away from their more esoteric undertakings.
The night before their planned departure for the Whispering Peaks, Nyx made her move. Demiurge's orders were clear: infiltrate, observe, report. The risks were high, but the potential rewards – and the consequences of failure – were higher.
Greywater Keep, by the standards of any true fortress, was a crumbling joke. But Nyx had learned from her distant surveillance that its defenders, while few and aging, were surprisingly alert, and the elderly 'Master Tian' moved with an unnatural awareness that set all her predatory instincts on edge.
She waited until the deepest hour of the night, when the moon was obscured by clouds and the only sounds were the hooting of owls and the rustling of wind through the keep's decaying stonework. Dressed in a shadow-skin suit that drank the light, she moved like smoke, scaling the outer wall with the aid of specialized climbing claws, bypassing the snoring sentry at the gatehouse with contemptuous ease.
Her target was twofold: observe Lord Elian Hollow in his private chambers, and if possible, gain insight into the true nature of Master Tian. She knew from her observations that Elian's chambers were in the main, dilapidated tower, while Tian quartered in a small, surprisingly well-kept room near the Maester's.
She reached the base of the tower, her movements utterly silent. The stonework was rough, offering easy purchase. Like a spider, she ascended, her senses heightened, every shadow an ally. She reached the arrow-slit window of Elian's chamber. Peering through, she saw the young lord asleep in his simple bed – or so it appeared. Ainz was, in fact, in a light meditative trance, his senses extended, probing for any lingering response to his beacon, his mind far away from his physical body.
Nyx watched for several minutes, noting the boy's stillness, the faint glow of the amulet visible beneath his tunic even in the dim light. Nothing overtly magical, beyond the amulet itself. She needed more. Perhaps Master Tian's quarters would yield more clues.
She began to descend, intending to cross the small courtyard towards the Maester's wing. As she dropped silently to a lower ledge, her foot landed on a section of loose gravel. It was a tiny sound, almost inaudible. But not to Sebas Tian.
Sebas, despite appearing to be asleep in his own chamber, was a guardian of Nazarick. His senses were always alert, his ki-awareness extending like an invisible net around the vital areas of the keep, especially around his Lord's chambers. The faint crunch of gravel, the almost imperceptible shift in air pressure as Nyx moved, was enough.
Nyx felt it a split second before it happened – a sudden, overwhelming surge of killing intent, a pressure so immense it felt like a mountain was about to fall on her. She didn't hesitate. Her training, her instincts, screamed at her to flee. She abandoned all thought of further reconnaissance, her stealth forgotten as she launched herself from the ledge towards the outer wall, pushing her half-elven agility to its absolute limit.
She heard no pursuit, saw no attacker, but she felt him – a presence of unimaginable speed and power closing the distance with terrifying rapidity. She scrambled over the wall, dropping heavily on the far side, and ran, not daring to look back, her heart hammering against her ribs, the primal fear of the hunted consuming her. She had failed to get close, failed to gain significant new intel beyond confirming the amulet's glow, and had instead triggered the keep's deadliest guardian.
Sebas stood on the battlements, a shadow amongst shadows, watching the fleeing Nyx disappear into the darkness. He made no move to pursue. Capturing her might have revealed too much, and his primary duty was the immediate protection of Lord Ainz. He had identified her general skill level, confirmed she was not of Nazarick, and driven her off. That was sufficient for now.
He returned to Ainz's chamber, entering silently. Ainz opened his eyes, his meditative trance broken. "Report, Sebas."
"An intruder, my Lord. Attempted to observe your chamber, then moved towards my own. Highly skilled in stealth. I believe it was the watcher we detected on the road from Riverrun." Sebas recounted the brief, non-confrontation. "They sensed my counter-move and disengaged with remarkable speed before I could secure them. They know now that Greywater Keep is not as unguarded as it appears."
Ainz frowned. "Persistent. And capable, if they could evade you, even when you were not intending to capture. Demiurge's hand is almost certainly behind this. He is testing us, gauging our strength." This changed things. Their "secret" was less secret than they hoped.
"Indeed, my Lord," Sebas agreed. "They will likely report their failure, or partial success. Demiurge will adjust his plans accordingly."
Ainz stood, walking to the window, looking out at the dark, sleeping lands. "This makes our expedition to the Whispering Peaks even more critical. If there are other sites of power, other potential sources of knowledge or… resources… we need to secure them before others become aware." His thoughts also turned to the beacon. Had it truly reached anyone? Was help, or at least companionship, on its way?
Days later, on a desolate, windswept beach at the mouth of the Trident, where it met the Bite…
The 'Sea Serpent,' battered by a late-season squall but otherwise intact, dropped anchor in a secluded cove. A small landing boat was lowered, and Albedo, still cloaked and hooded, was rowed ashore by a handful of her most loyal (and terrified) human crewmen. With her came her honor guard of skeletal mages and death knights, now un-glamoured and terrifyingly resplendent in their ebon armor and glowing balefire eyes, their presence alone enough to make the very sand seem to crawl.
Albedo stepped onto the muddy, unwelcoming soil of Westeros, her delicate boots sinking slightly into the muck. She cared little for the primitive squalor. Her golden eyes, blazing with an unholy light, scanned the dreary landscape.
"This is the region, then," she said, her voice a low, melodious purr that nevertheless promised untold agony for any who displeased her. "The Riverlands." She inhaled deeply, as if she could taste her beloved Ainz-sama's presence on the wind. The beacon's call had faded, but its directional imprint was burned into her very soul.
She turned to the trembling captain of the landing boat. "You have served your purpose. Return to your ship. Await my signal. If you attempt to leave this coast before I summon you, I will drag your vessel to the deepest trench of the sea and ensure your souls know an eternity of torment. Is that understood?"
The captain, white-faced and stammering, nodded vigorously.
Albedo then addressed her undead cohort. "Fan out. Secure this beachhead. Eliminate any potential threats. One of you," she singled out a skeletal mage, "find me the nearest center of human habitation. I require information. I need to know of a place called Greywater Keep, a fledgling lord named Elian Hollow, and any whispers of individuals who might be… familiar." Her lips curved into a possessive, dangerous smile. "My Ainz-sama is near. And his most devoted servant has arrived to kneel at his feet."
The conquest of this world could wait. First, the reunion. And then, together, they would bring this entire pathetic reality to heel under the glorious banner of Ainz Ooal Gown.