Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 9

Ludmila took in a lungful of air as she stirred from her oblivious state. Green, earthy odours hung in the air, suggesting that she wasn’t in the same place as before. Additionally, there were two other scents that she immediately recognised, one much stronger than the other.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“Lord Mare?”

“H-Hello.”

She looked up at the wooden ceiling for a moment before turning her attention to the rest of her surroundings. The walls, floor and furniture all appeared to be crafted out of wood and decorations suited for the daughter of a wealthy family were tastefully placed around the room.

Actually, I don’t know what half of these items are.

Ludmila sat up, finding Lord Mare seated at the end of the bed she had been lying in. He had his back against the wall and a book was open across his lap. She narrowed her eyes at the open window beyond him.

“It’s nighttime? How long have I been out for?”

“Ah, it’s not nighttime,” Lord Mare told her. “We just turned the daylight off.”

“…I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“Um…they changed the lighting from day to night because they’re doing something at the tournament festival.”

She still didn’t get it. Ludmila checked under her covers to make sure that she was decent, then decided to use the opportunity to equip her civilian garb. Once she was done, she pulled back her blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching for her boots on the floor.

“How much time has passed?” Ludmila asked, “And how did I get here? The last I remember, I was having a conversation with Lord Holenyot in his Area and then His Majesty appeared.”

She cringed at the recollection of the undoubtedly poor showing on her part. Why did she have to be so utterly hopeless in the presence of the Sorcerer King?

“Holenyot brought you over,” Lord Mare told her. “He took you to an empty cabin at first, but then some weird rumours started so I moved you to our house.”

“Is Lord Holenyot still around? I should apologise for all of the trouble that I’ve caused.”

“He went back home as soon as I picked you up,” Lord Mare said. “It’s been a few hours since then. H-How are you feeling? Holenyot said that you fainted, but is that even possible?”

Ludmila rose and stretched out of habit. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the door to the room had opened a crack and someone was peeking inside.

“Someone is looking in on us,” she said. “Is it a member of your household staff?”

“Huh? Oh. I guess? We took in three Elves a while ago and Lord Ainz gave them jobs. They’re pretty annoying…”

“Ah, them. I recall you mentioning that before.”

“Mhm.”

Ludmila took her boots over to a table near the middle of the room. She pulled out a chair and sat down, then felt an odd sensation as the piece of furniture grew to fit her.

“About my fainting,” Ludmila said as she pulled on a boot. “Are other Undead not affected by His Majesty’s presence?”

Lord Mare looked up from his book, a tiny frown crossing his lips.

“There was something that Shalltear said back when…oh. But can that make the Undead faint? I don’t remember there being any status effects like that…”

“From what I’ve seen,” Ludmila said, “different types of Undead are affected by His Majesty’s presence in different ways. The Elder Liches of the Katze Cabal, for instance, are filled with awe. Lady Shalltear’s handmaidens seem to experience something similar to their mistress. There aren’t many other examples that I know of yet, but I think that each type of Undead is affected differently.”

If she were to broadly describe it, the Undead became more ‘alive’ in the ways that suited them in the Sorcerer King’s presence, displaying reactions generally reserved for the living.

“Heh…that’s interesting,” Lord Mare said. “I should ask Yuri about it.”

Ludmila pulled on her other boot.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, my lord,” Ludmila said. “Miss Alpha is a stern woman…”

Lord Mare seemed to shrink in on himself as if imagining what the director might do to him. Ludmila had heard some stories from Liam and Saye, but, aside from nearly punching a hole in a classroom wall, nothing the Orphanage Director did seemed that extreme.

She fished a mirror out of her Infinite Haversack and placed it on the table. Strangely, her ordeals hadn’t left much of a mess aside from a bit of grime collected while making her way around the Second Floor.

“Have you heard anything from Lady Shalltear, my lord?”

“No. Want me to contact her for you?”

“…let’s not.”

Ludmila put her things away and went over to the window. They were in a meadow surrounded by tall woodland and only some of the vegetation looked familiar.

“I’ve seen some of these plants before,” she said. “Aren’t they the ones you’ve placed in Glasir’s keeping?”

“Yeah,” Lord Mare replied. “Things are going well in Warden’s Vale, so I’m hoping that we can introduce more soon.”

“Speaking of which…one of those plants ate a pair of socks the other day, are we going to have to worry about plants going into people’s dressers and eating people’s clothing?”

“They broke into someone’s house and ate their socks?”

“Not exactly, my lord,” Ludmila said. “The Linum sisters like the feel of the grass under their bare feet and one of them left their socks in the hall. We learned, too late, that at least one of those plants can devour fabric.”

“Glasir will have to speak with the plants about it,” Lord Mare told her. “They should listen to her, but let me know if they don’t.”

Outside, the starry night was abruptly replaced by a sunny day. Practically speaking, it didn’t make any difference to Ludmila, but the idea that day and night could be switched so casually was mind-boggling.

Mind-boggling and problematic. Doesn’t doing this interfere with natural cycles?

A second observer joined the first at the door. Ludmila backed away from the window.

“I shouldn’t impose on you any longer, my lord,” she said. “Out of curiosity, how far is your territory from Lady Shalltear’s?”

“Um…three floors?”

“Three floors?”

“Un. This is the Sixth Floor. Shalltear’s lowest Floor is the Third.”

Did that mean they were even deeper underground? Was the scenery outside of the window something like a highly advanced version of the underground farms she was building in her demesne? An underground forest? If so, she was falling far short of the Sorcerer King’s expectations when he had first explained the concept to her. She would have to realign her vision to more closely match what she had seen.

Another face appeared at the door. Lord Mare closed the book on his lap and tossed it on his pillow.

“We should go,” he said.

The door swung open. Three Elf women in maid uniforms rushed into the room.

“You mustn’t, Lord Mare!” The pink-haired one said.

“Humans are dangerous!” Said the blue-haired one.

“She’ll turn you into a slave!” The last, a blonde with short-cropped hair cried.

Lord Mare turned his head to look up at Ludmila.

“Y-You’re going to turn me into a slave?” He asked.

“Slavery is illegal in the Sorcerous Kingdom, my lord,” Ludmila answered.

“See? She dodged the question! We won’t let you turn Lord Mare into your toy!”

The three Elf Maids moved to interpose themselves between Lord Mare and Ludmila. Though their ire was misdirected, she felt that their desire to defend the master of their household was admirable.

“Perhaps some directions will do,” Ludmila said. “What’s the most expedient way to the surface, my lord?”

“The surface?” Lord Mare’s voice came from behind the wall of Elf Maids, “Didn’t you just arrive a few hours ago?”

“I did, but…well, I don’t really feel like talking about it right now. What are the chances of Lady Shalltear appearing around here, by the way?”

“Mmh…she should be preparing for the tournament like the others, so pretty slim until her fights are over. Lord Ainz said that everyone should enjoy the festivities, so you should take a look around.”

Admittedly, it would be an awful waste if she just left on account of a single incident. There was far too much that she might learn by staying.

“In that case,” Ludmila said, “I should take up His Majesty on his offer. Where do you suggest I go first?”

“The fighting tournament is at the arena and the festival is around there, too. It’s two kilometres north of here. You probably won’t be interested in the festival and the next set of matches is in the evening. How about we take a look at some things I was thinking of trying out in your Area?”

“I would like that, my lord,” she replied. “We’ll be attending the tournament in the evening, I presume?”

“Un,” Lord Mare nodded. “Lord Ainz will be there, so no one will miss it.”

Since it was an arena, hopefully she could sit somewhere far away from His Majesty. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she put on another shameful display in front of the Sorcerer King.

The three Elf Maids collectively glared a hole in Ludmila’s back as they made their way out of the room. Ludmila wasn’t sure why they were so antagonistic towards her and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. At the least, asking would likely trigger another wave of hatred and resentment towards her and she didn’t want to waste any time dealing with it.

They followed a tunnel-like corridor that looked like it had been bored through wood rather than constructed. Ludmila traced her fingers along the wall, feeling its grain as they descended a spiral staircase.

“This house has some very peculiar construction,” she said.

“It’s not peculiar, Human,” one of the Elf Maids jumped on her statement. “Lord Mare has one of the finest houses we’ve ever seen.”

“That’s right,” a second Elf Maid added. “It’s far more beautiful than any Human home.”

Do they intend to take issue with every other thing that I say?

If Lord Mare thought anything of their opposition to her existence, he didn’t show it. He led them through a cosy sort of drawing room with an attached kitchen, then outside through a rounded door. Ludmila was surprised to find out that the ‘building’ that they had been in was, in reality, a huge tree. The tree was wider than it was tall, and its massive boughs extended dozens of metres from its thick trunk.

“I’m amazed to see that a tree could survive such an ordeal,” Ludmila said. “What kind of techniques were used to fashion the dwelling within?”

“Um…”

“Lord Mare is a great Druid!” The blue-haired Elf said.

“Don’t underestimate him just because he’s young!” Said the blonde-haired Elf.

“In various ways,” The redhead said.

That doesn’t answer my question…

The only thing their heated defence gave away was that Druids were capable of such a feat. She knew they had magic that could shape wood, but could it be done to such an extent?

“Will Glasir be able to do something similar in the future?” Ludmila asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Lord Mare answered. “Aren’t you already using transmutation spells to reform materials in Warden’s Vale?”

“We are,” Ludmila replied, “but they’ve only been used to recycle materials. Glasir is still hesitant to use it on living things.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s afraid that she’ll hurt them.”

Lord Mare stopped and stared blankly at her for a moment.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I-It’s nothing,” Lord Mare resumed walking. “Um…you don’t think it’s silly?”

“Professionals in agriculture often guide and shape the growth of plants,” Ludmila said. “I suppose they don’t think of their work as harmful. I think Glasir is mostly worried about making a mistake with her tree, which is understandable. She is connected to it, after all.”

“Didn’t you propose that we manage the growth of Glasir’s tree, anyway?”

“Yes, the modified daisugi technique that you explained to me sounds promising, but I haven’t broached the topic with Glasir yet. I feel that we’ve built up a lot of trust, but her tree is still a sensitive subject.”

Since Glasir’s tree was supposed to grow to a colossal size, it was clear that the direction of that growth would have to be managed. The technique that Lord Mare spoke of was similar to pollarding, except it was used on a tree’s branches to create natural platforms that could be used to cultivate wood for harvesting. With some adjustments to the technique, the boughs of the tree could act as the upper layers of the city, with entire communities nestled in its leaves.

Above all else, Lord Mare was hopeful that high-tier materials would be possible to cultivate in and around the Divine Ash, including wood from the tree itself. Ludmila similarly sought to cultivate greater levels of technical expertise in her subjects so they would be able to work with those materials. Needless to say, her military training also factored this in, though since it already focused on bow and polearm mastery, it didn’t result in much of a shift from what she was already doing.

They went to the northern edge of the meadow, following a stream that flowed northwest from the clearing. As Ludmila expected, the woodland that they traversed displayed the hallmarks of a well-managed forest rather than something like the untamed wildlands around Warden’s Vale. Once in a while, she spotted dens and litters where Lady Aura’s companions made their homes.

“Is this forest capable of supporting all of Lady Aura’s companions?” She asked.

“Of course,” Lord Mare answered. “Usually, everything balances out, but our security spending has been lowered recently. We’ve been using the surplus to run a few experiments around the Floor.”

“Would this be the reason why you’re so supportive of my style of development?”

“Yes.”

After arriving in Nazarick, it slowly became apparent why the Sorcerous Kingdom’s central administration never challenged the way that Ludmila did things. Unlike Human realms, which were driven by competition over scarce resources in the pursuit of what could be broadly defined as ‘growth’, Nazarick’s territories seemed to revolve around ‘maintenance’. Industries existed to sustain operations rather than fuel expansion. The way that Ludmila managed her territory just happened to be conceptually the same as Nazarick and thus the ‘correct’ way of doing things.

“Out of curiosity,” Ludmila asked, “how would you justify this sort of economy to those who favour more…aggressive development policies?”

“Why would I need to do that?” Lord Mare asked, “Things are the way that they are because they’re supposed to be that way.”

“Let’s just say that someone confronts you over it. How would you settle your differences?”

“Um…I’d kill them?”

“…I meant in a non-violent way. I can’t exactly go around killing other Nobles for disagreeing with my policies.”

“It’s your Area. They have no right to say anything about how you manage it. I guess if they really wanted to, they could complain to Shalltear…why are you so worried about it?”

“Rather than worry,” Ludmila said, “I feel that this is something we’ll come across often in the future. Immediate survival or at least the idea of what ensures immediate survival dominates the thinking of nearly every society that I know of. If the Sorcerous Kingdom is to preside over an eternal hegemony, then we either must account for the conflicts that this sort of thinking leads to or lead the societies of our client states away from it.”

“Mmh…that’s complicated. You should ask Lord Ainz about it. He’ll definitely have a perfect answer for you.”

If I can stay in control of myself, perhaps.

Far be it for her to grasp His Majesty’s thoughts in their entirety. She simply wanted to understand her small part of things so she could serve Him well. Accomplishing just that was more than enough to make her happy.

Their stroll through the woods abruptly ended when they arrived at a circular clearing not unlike that of a frontier holding. A cluster of log cabins lay at the centre of a hodgepodge of cultivated fields. A mix of residents from several races could be seen around the buildings or out tending to the land. Ludmila examined the border of the forest and the fields with a frown.

“Was this area recently cleared for agriculture?” She asked.

“A couple of years ago,” Lord Mare answered. “Reducing security allowed us to set aside some resources for experiments with local crops. This part of the Floor is called the Green Hole. The people that live here are pretty much all from the Great Forest of Tob.”

“Lizardmen, Dryads, and…Treants? What are you having them do here?”

“They’re basically Farmers,” Lord Mare said. “We’ve split them up into different ‘tenancies’, sort of like how it’s done in your Area. Each one is monitored for improvements over time.”

“Have there been any results, my lord?”

“There have!” Lord Mare nodded, “Most of the fields display the enhancing effects of the Farmer Job Class that we’ve seen out around the Sorcerous Kingdom. They’re still cultivating mundane crops, but we’ve already had some interesting results…”

Lord Mare wandered off as he spoke, bringing them to a barren-looking field halfway along the path to the village. He gestured with his staff to the huge rosette of leaves in the centre.

“It looks like a carrot,” Ludmila said. “At least if carrots grew to that size.”

“It is a carrot,” Lord Mare told her. “At least a carrot that grew to that size.”

The Dark Elf boy shrank away slightly as Ludmila peered at him. His three Maids immediately sprang into action, forming a barrier of bodies between them.

“Don’t bully Lord Mare!”

“Such disrespect!”

“Lord Mare, please punish this insolent Human!”

Ludmila turned her gaze back to the carrot. Only its top was sticking out of the ground. Going just by what she saw, however, it was at least as large as an adult Human.

“Is this some foreign breed of carrot?” She asked, “A magical carrot, perhaps?”

“No, it’s just a regular carrot,” Lord Mare answered. “We had some of the plant-type Heteromorphs infuse the carrot with nutrients using their special abilities. After a certain point, it transformed into that carrot.”

“That’s quite impressive,” Ludmila said. “I knew that magic could stimulate plant growth, but not to that degree.”

It was by now well known amongst the Farmers of the Sorcerous Kingdom that the spells used on their crops resulted in yields that were half again that what they once considered a bumper crop, but it didn’t result in any produce even remotely approaching the scale before them.

“We’re not sure what happened, either,” Lord Mare squeezed out from between his Maids to stand beside Ludmila again. “One second, it was a regular carrot. The next, it became that thing.”

“How strange–wait, what?”

“I-I said it transformed, didn’t I?”

“I thought it was a figure of speech,” Ludmila said. “Is the carrot edible?”

“It should be,” Lord Mare replied. “They’re still performing tests on the carrot and the field that it’s in. Divination spells say that it’s just a big, high-quality carrot. It doesn’t have any magical effects and there isn’t anything toxic to Humans in it.”

“If prepared properly,” Ludmila said, “this is enough carrot for an entire village. The field that it grew in isn’t looking so great, either. How large would it be if it had good soil to grow in?”

“A-Actually, the field is like this because of the carrot.”

Ludmila examined the pitiful-looking parcel of land. It looked like the result of a foolish Farmer who didn’t rotate their crops properly out of blind greed.

“That doesn’t make any sense, my lord,” Ludmila said. “A single carrot doesn’t have such an extensive root system.”

“Yeah,” Lord Mare agreed, “that’s a part of why we’re not sure what’s going on here. This soil can’t be used again until it's been left fallow for long enough or we use magic to replenish its nutrients. The only thing I can think of that explains what’s going on is that you’re limited to a single carrot of this size per field.”

“Is it worth it?”

The Dark Elf shook his head.

“Based on what we have available to us, it’s not economically viable. You need specialists to induce the transformation of each carrot and then you need someone to restore the land. The overall mana efficiency is just bad. We’re still repeating the experiment to try and figure out the principles behind it, but the participants aren’t very well-versed in magical theory. They’re just plant Heteromorphs using their natural abilities.”

“It may be worth it if applied to a higher-tier crop,” Ludmila mused.

“I-I think so, too. It’s going to take time to find out, though. The people here aren’t skilled enough to cultivate Second-tier crops yet.”

“What level do they have to be for that?”

“As far as I know,” Lord Mare said, “they should follow the same rules as other production Job Classes. It feels really hard to level Farmers, though. It’s been two years and they still keep failing.”

“Is that something that can ‘fail’, my lord? It isn’t as if Farmers are necessary for plants to exist. So long as it has the right conditions for growth, a plant should thrive on its own. Lady Shalltear’s demesne had multiple ‘crops’ growing here and there with little in the way of supervision or expertise.”

“That’s because they were set up to grow there,” Lord Mare told her. “The Green Hole is cultivated from scratch by its tenants. You may be onto something about needing the right conditions, though. I’ll have to read up on it.”

They left the strange carrot and continued on their way to the nearby village. The residents – a few dozen Lizardmen – came out to greet Lord Mare as they stepped into the village square.

“Welcome, Lord Mare,” a dark brown male came forward with a bow, “is there something we can do for you today?”

“I’m just showing Baroness Zahradnik around,” Lord Mare replied. “How come you’re not at the festival?”

“Things wound down after the stage production,” the Lizardman said. “We figured we could take a nap or something before the fights tonight.”

“Oh. Okay. We’re going through to the other side. Bye.”

The Lizardmen bowed deeply as Lord Mare continued on his way. Several minutes of walking brought them into the orchard tended by Treants and Dryads that she had seen from a distance. The nearest Treant ambled forward to greet them with a creaky nod and the Dryad riding on his shoulder hopped down to genuflect before Lord Mare.

“Good afternoon, Lord Mare,” she said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

Ludmila noted the sterile construction of the Dryad’s greeting, wondering what it was she had actually said.

“We’re just looking around,” Lord Mare replied. “This is Baroness Ludmila Zahradnik, one of Shalltear’s new Area Guardians.”

The Dryad rose to her feet and dusted off her knee, looking up at Ludmila curiously. Much like Glasir, she had the supernatural charm of her kind, though her features were that of the Oak trees more commonly associated with Dryads in folklore.

“You look like a Human,” the Dryad said, “but…have we met before? In the Dream Between Wakings, perhaps?”

“I’m sorry,” Ludmila replied, “I don’t know what you’re referring to. Would you mind explaining what that is?”

“Oh. Uh…I’m not sure how to explain it? We Dryads awaken into existence. The time between existences is the Dream Between Wakings, I guess?”

“Are you talking about some sort of Dryad afterlife?”

“No? Well, maybe? It’s just where everyone goes between cycles of existence. It’s after one, before another, and between all of them.”

Had she tripped over some strange aspect of Dryad religion? Glasir had never mentioned anything of the sort. After a moment’s thought, Ludmila decided that it wasn’t all that strange. One could say that the world was built out of countless interrelated cycles. Druids, Rangers, and beings that were close to nature were keenly aware of those cycles, incorporating them into their activities and outlook on life in general.

“Are you saying that we persist after death and eventually awaken as a new existence?” Ludmila asked.

“Probably.”

What do you mean ‘probably’?

Ludmila sent a questioning look in Lord Mare’s direction. The Dark Elf Druid shrugged.

“It makes sense to me,” he said. “Whenever I die, I just wait for Lord Ainz to call me back. I’m not sure if anything happens ‘between’, though.”

If he put it that way, it made a bit more sense. Surshana determined the fate of one’s soul, after all.

“I didn’t know that Dryads saw things that way,” Ludmila said. “That’s very interesting, erm…”

The Dryad stared at Ludmila as her voice trailed off.

“It’s Pinison,” Lord Mare said.

“Me? Oh, yes. I am Pinison. Pinison Pol Perlia, Chief of the Green Hole.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Chief Perlia,” Ludmila replied. “Does that mean you’re the Area Guardian of the Green Hole?”

“The Green Hole isn’t an actual Area,” Lord Mare told her. “It’s technically a part of the Field of Flowers, but the Field of Flowers doesn’t have an Area Guardian. Pinison was the first person to move here, so she put herself in charge of everyone else.”

“I see…does that make her a Dryad Lord?”

“Me? A Lord? Well, there’s an Alraune Lord, so maybe there’s a Dryad Lord?”

For some reason, Chief Perlia let out an unsteady laugh. Ludmila fervently prayed that Glasir wouldn’t grow up to be like her.