Magic Caster of Destroy

The only reason she was here was because one of the Four Knights had to be in the Imperial capital at all times. The one selected for that duty was “Fierce Gale”, Nimble Ark dale Anock, which was unavoidable. If “The Immovable” was still around, Nimble would be the one here instead.

“Forgive my rudeness.”

Leinas withdrew a handkerchief from a breast pocket and shifted it to the right side of her face. As it turned out, the golden cloth was actually her hair. She stuffed the handkerchief under that hair and wiped lightly.

After the brief procedure, the handkerchief turned yellow with the amount of pus it had absorbed.

“Please allow me to make my own life my top priority. I apologize if I get in your way.”

“Ahh, that’s fine, after all, that’s what we agreed to when you became one of the Four Knights ― or rather, what you contracted to.”

“I see, so everyone knows what I plan to do. Then, I will do my best to squat in a corner over there and not get in your way.”

The mood in the carriage was due for a change, so everyone laughed heartily as Roune spoke.

“Then, judging by our current speed, how long until we reach Nazarick?”

Roune, whom Jircniv was addressing, withdrew a pocket watch from his breast pocket. After he confirmed the time, he turned to Leinas, watched as she nodded, and replied.

“If everything goes according to plan, in about an hour.”

“Is that so? I look forward to it. We’ll see what Ainz Ooal Gown is trying to sell us.”

Part 2

Jircniv’s carriage slowly reduced its speed, until it finally ground to a halt. However, he still could not disembark immediately. It was troublesome, but Jircniv had to attend to his own preparations for the sake of style and security.

Normally, this task would have been performed by underlings, such as the maids in the other carriages. However, they did not have the luxury of waiting for those carriages to arrive. After all, they had come to apologize, and keeping the wronged party waiting too long was a foolish move.

After Jircniv adjusted his clothes, he fastened his cape over them. This was an extremely valuable item made from a magical beast’s skin and further treated with magic. With it on, not even the coldest temperatures outside would inconvenience him.

Then, he slid the Imperial Scepter into his belt, which completed the minimum preparations for the Emperor to appear in public.

Jircniv looked himself over one more time, to make sure that his appearance would not shame himself or the Empire.

What would follow was a negotiation with Ainz Ooal Gown, though in truth it would be closer to a war of words. In other words, his formal wear was the social equivalent of a warrior’s sword and shield. The consequences of any flaws or deficiencies in his bearing would not be limited to simple embarrassment. Although it would be good if his opponent was not observant enough to pick those flaws out, he could not count on the details of his attire being overlooked.

Jircniv nodded in satisfaction, and just at that moment, a knock rang out from the door.

“Then, I shall disembark first, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

After that short answer, Baziwood opened the carriage’s door.

It was a stately, proper exit that befitted the carriage which bore the highest authority in the Baharuth Empire. Just in case, Roune interposed himself between the Emperor and the outside as the door opened, serving as a shield for Jircniv.

They could see what lay outside, beyond Baziwood.

The first thing that came into view was the grass of the plains. After that were the royal guards, lined up opposite the carriage. Beyond them lay a hill that swelled up from the plains, and what looked like a huge lattice door that seemed to have been half-buried.

Is this the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick? It seems a little different from what I’ve beentold… well, errors like this are within acceptable ranges.

After disembarking from the carriage, Jircniv fell in step with Baziwood ―who was already in formation with the royal guards― and set forth.

Jircniv took a deep breath. The enchantment on his clothing ensured that the air which entered his lungs would be fresh and clear. Granted, it was still cold, but not uncomfortably so.

As he took his breath, he worked his jaw, and quickly glanced at the subordinates around him.

Fluder, in his long robes and holding his staff, was trailed by his acolytes.

The divine magic casters, with holy symbols pinned to their vestments ― they were knights in the imperial knight orders, although they were not warriors by profession.

The royal guards, who remained at their positions now counted among them the outriders who had been sent ahead of the carriages.

Personally, Jircniv wanted to see what those pioneers had seen, but right now, that was not an option.

It seemed the maids, who were in another carriage, had not arrived yet.