129 Chapter 129

Chaos consumed the council chamber of Feoh Ger. "Someone flew here on a frost dragon! They can only be working with the quagoa!" The Forgemaster's meaty fist pounded on the table, his thick lips moved rapidly while he spat out the words. "We should send out guards to drive him away or kill him!"

"You say that, but he is only sitting there, outside of our reach but in sight of our city, and he's done nothing but that, maybe he wants to talk. He doesn't look like a quagoa, does he?" The far more amiable minister of finance pointed out while calmly stroking his thick dark beard.

"No…" The Minister of War admitted. "No, he doesn't. And the dragon doesn't look like one we're familiar with, Olasird'arc is supposed to be much bigger. This one, everyone says is kind of fat. This may be an opportunity instead, a chance to form an alliance with someone else. After the initial panic, everyone on the walls has said they feel nothing like hostility."

"If nothing else, we need to know how they got around the Great Rift without anyone sending word to us. What if there is a hidden passage around it now?" The very practical question had a sobering effect on those at the table.

"So we send someone out… ask questions, see what happens." This suggestion was well received at least, the dwarves nodded with sober appreciation for the needs of the moment for knowledge that they simply did not have.

"Fine, we send someone out, we talk to this one… see what happens." Their eldest member said with a grim spirited smile, "Maybe our luck is about to turn, eh? A dragon comes to Feoh Ger and we're not even frozen or destroyed the moment it does." He let out a laugh that matched the grim smile, and a few of his colleagues let out hesitant and equally dark laughs of their own.

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Ainz watched the gate slowly open in front of him, not far, but far enough for someone to come out. Only one did, a dwarf in dark clothing that seemed to be of some sort of leather manufacture, but from what source was impossible to say. 'Not a cow, that's for sure.' Ainz thought while he waited. The leather had a very fine shine to it, suggesting that he was quite an important figure. 'Or does it? How do dwarves dress?' He tried to pick through Zenberu's memories, but what people wore was especially hazy.

'The lizardmen culture wears little to nothing, I suppose this indifference to remembering how the dwarves dress is a natural result.' Ainz gave up on figuring that out, and he nearly dismounted from Hejinmal when he reminded himself, 'No, I can't do that… I have to get used to being a King.'

The dragon mount at least, had not forgotten. With the chats along the way, he knew enough of how to speak of his Master, and with his head held high and neck stiff, that he loomed over the dwarf, he spoke. "This is His Majesty, King Ainz Ooal Gown of the Kingdom of Nazarick, he has come to forge friendly relations of trade with the Kingdom of the Dwarves."

The dwarf leaned back and craned his neck upward, his beard so thick and bushy that it was only the movement of his face that made it obvious. The rest of him was essentially 'hidden'.

"I don't know that Kingdom." He said. His back was stiff, his hands were at his sides, but at a glance Ainz felt the dwarf was 'defensive'.

'Is it that he is immune to my high charisma, or instinctive fear of dragons?' Ainz wondered, and considered it was probably a combination of the circumstances plus the dragon of a known enemy acting at least as a temporary debuff.

"The Kingdom of Nazarick is…" Ainz drew himself up, clad in his white robes with their marvelous golden trim, richly dressed and bearing the aura of absolute authority practiced for so very many hours, he recognized he shouldn't say 'new'. Great kings and kingdoms always stood on a foundation of their ancient legacy.

So, he lied.

"Among the most ancient Kingdoms of the world… once, long ago, all the world knew our glory… but," he tried to think, looking away as if remembering, and his voice filled with emotion, "we put ourselves to sleep to-" He stopped, trying to think of a reason, and he plucked one from a quest in the game, "to guard against the return of great, destructive forces. We were awakened by the coming of invaders to our sacred home, and so we have rejoined the world again." He pointed down at the dwarf with a white gloved hand as if accusing him.

"But you all forgot us."

Emotion overloaded Ainz out of almost nowhere, it hit too close to home, to think of everything that he once loved in Yggdrasil, forgotten, cast aside, left to memory and dust, even the memory of his friends… and a wave of grief burst forth like a supernova.

The rumbling of majestic power from magic more powerful than the dwarf speaker had felt in all his life, was enough that he fell to his knees and felt no pain under the strain of overwhelming awe. But more than that, was the passionate grief and compassion that was carried in that nova that spread from the center of the soul of the dragon riding King.

"I've never met a King… but if you're not one, I'll eat my helmet." The dwarf whispered as the wave of compassion and grief swept over the whole of the dwarven city.

For once in his life, Ainz' confidence was as real as the heart in his chest, over his home, there was never any question, not about what he was, only whether he deserved it or could do it well. But there was no doubt of his station, the burden he bore and which grew with each step forward.

"I am a King. The King of Nazarick, and I have come with friendly terms to reestablish ancient ties with the dwarven people." He stopped and said, "But you are not doing so well these days it seems. If your nation is in need of help…"

A memory came to mind of a salesman he once knew who, on every call, pretended to be surprised to be speaking with an old friend from school, it made them instantly more friendly, they always played along even after forgetting him, and he was the only one to outsell Suzuki Satoru regularly.

"Your people were beloved of my Kingdom, once. Even if you have forgotten it," he turned his hand up so that the palm was out as if offering something to the dwarf, "I would extend that hand of friendship once again."

'I'm getting to be a better actor little by little… a few key phrases from the Draconic Queen really seem to do the trick.' Ainz mentally praised the foreign monarch while the dwarf shot to his feet.

"Please! Come with me! At once, Your Majesty!" The dwarf half shrieked the words with a mix of awe and excitement, his dour attitude completely wiped away.

The guards opened the gates which groaned from the effort, the great double wide barrier to entry became an open invitation. "Make way! Make way for the King of Nazarick!" The dwarf shouted, "Send word to the council! Have a reception prepared at once! Make way! Make way! Make… Way!"

The dwarves seemed to respect the one who shouted, scrambling to attention and following his directions, and when the dwarf shouted, "Render… Arms!" The dwarves bearing swords, spears, and crossbows snapped to attention, holding their chosen weapon vertically to the ground in front of themselves at the center of their bodies.

In this way, under honors, Ainz entered the dwarven capital.

'That went well.' Ainz thought, and kept his sigh of relief confined to his thoughts alone.