Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 10

The orchards in the Green Hole weren’t arranged in the same way as any orchard one would find in the Human-inhabited lands above the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Rather than being planted in parallel rows, the fruit trees radiated from a set of central points. At each of those central points was the home tree of one of the resident Dryads. Ludmila could only presume that the orchard took this form because the range of their caretakers was limited.

“Does the distance that a Dryad can be from their home tree increase as they age?” Ludmila asked.

For some reason, Chief Perlia shuddered like a lone sapling in the autumn wind. Her oaken leaves trembled and one of them even fell to the grass. Ludmila’s gaze went from the fallen leaf to Lord Mare.

“Is she dying?” She asked.

“I’m not dying!” The Dryad screeched, “When we came here, they ran all sorts of ‘experiments’ on us. Some of them…”

Chief Perlia clutched her head, a low moan escaping from her wooden lips.

“They weren’t that bad,” Lord Mare said. “We needed to figure out how to design the Green Hole. Knowing how far the Dryads could be from their trees was a part of that. All we did was have them stand further and further away. Then, when they showed signs of stress from being too far from their trees, we tried to figure out how long they could survive and whether getting further made things worse.”

“It was horrible!” Chief Perlia continued to moan, “I could feel my life ebbing away from me. I got so tired…cold…but they only kept asking more and more questions!”

“They don’t lose health during the process,” Lord Mare said, “so healing magic doesn’t counteract the effect. Neither do spells that restore stamina or remove debuffs.”

“I was dying,” the Dryad cried, hugging herself anxiously. “They wouldn’t let me go back to my tree – Lady Aura just held onto me until I collapsed! I know you guys are all world-ending threats that don’t die even when you’re killed, but I’m just a poor little Dryad! I don’t know what you expected out of me.”

“Didn’t we conduct a similar experiment in Warden’s Vale?” Ludmila asked.

Chief Perlia backed away, looking fearfully at Ludmila. She let out a startled cry when her shoulders bumped into her home tree. A moment later, she phased into it.

“Un,” Lord Mare nodded. “Glasir didn’t complain, though. She just told us how she was feeling.”

“I-I did, too!” Chief Perlia said, “I–wait, Glasir?”

The Dryad’s head popped out of the trunk of her oak with an entirely different expression from before.

“Do you know of her?” Ludmila asked.

“Do I ever!” The Dryad huffed, “That woman’s been the source of all of my troubles recently!”

A furrow crossed Ludmila’s brow. Glasir always had her tree with her so she could theoretically go anywhere she wanted, but, as far as Ludmila knew, she had never left the boundaries of her territory.

“Glasir is causing you trouble?” Ludmila said, “How so?”

“How?” Chief Perlia stepped out of her tree again, placing her hands on her hips, “I’ll tell you how! Many sunrises ago, Lady Aura appeared after returning from the surface and had us Dryads gather before her. Then, she said ‘Alright’ and started whipping us! We tried to run, but we obviously couldn’t get far, so all we could do was cry and wonder if she was going to turn us into kindling. The more we cried, the angrier she got, so I eventually thought to at least ask why she was attacking us before we died. Apparently, she met a ‘superior’ Dryad named ‘Glasir’ somewhere and she wanted us all to be like her!”

Ludmila’s lip twitched at the feeling that stirred within her. Was this how parents felt when their children performed well?

“Glasir has been working hard every day,” Ludmila said. “Isn’t self-improvement something that everyone should strive for?”

“No?” Chief Perlia looked at her strangely, “Why would I want to do that? Soaking up sunlight and absorbing the delicious dirt here is good enough.”

Sinner.

A sinner stood before her, brazenly displaying her sinful nature for all to see. It was no wonder that Lady Aura had resorted to whipping her.

“I thought that Dryads had a natural desire to protect their trees,” Ludmila said. “Wouldn’t you want to train to do at least that?”

“Th-That’s right,” Lord Mare said. “Glasir’s not only been learning how to use her natural strengths as a Dryad, but she’s training to become a Druid, as well! Didn’t you say that you liked the magic I used to enchant the soil? You could learn it too…”

“But you can already cast it,” Chief Perlia said.

Ludmila’s hand itched to slap Pinison. As far as personalities went, hers was the type that she despised the most. A shield of civil conduct allowed them to do as they pleased, but, when their families and communities pooled resources to pull through a crisis, it was revealed that people such as Pinison had little to offer. Her interactions with the residents of Lady Shalltear’s domain led her to believe that all of Nazarick’s denizens possessed a similar sense of diligence, but that clearly wasn’t the case.

“In that case,” Ludmila said, “what is it that you do here?”

“I’m the Chief of the Green Hole,” the Dryad replied matter of factly.

“Yes, but what does that entail?”

“Being a boss,” Chief Perlia crossed her arms with an authoritative look. “I’m in charge of collecting tributes to Ainz Ooal Gown, as well.”

The Dryad gestured to several crates of produce placed on a stone slab nearby. As far as Ludmila could tell, all of the fruits and vegetables were unblemished and high quality, but ultimately mundane.

“A Dryad can’t stray too far from her tree,” Ludmila said. “So how did you collect the tribute?”

“Everyone else brought it in.”

“…so what part did you play?”

“I managed them,” Chief Perlia raised her chin proudly. “It’s a tough job, but I’m not the Chief for nothing!”

The self-proclaimed chief seemed entirely serious in her statement. Ludmila held back the mountain of things that she had to say, as it probably wouldn’t lead anywhere if the Dryad displayed no fear of the consequences of behaving as she did in Lord Mare’s presence.

“Does this tribute serve any specific purpose?” Ludmila decided to divert to a different line of discourse, “For instance, being sent to the treasury to help finance Nazarick’s operations?”

“Um…sure!” Chief Perlia nodded, “Yes, that’s exactly what happens. Isn’t it great?”

“I-It actually goes to the Ninth Floor,” Lord Mare said. “The kitchen staff uses it to make dishes for the cafeteria buffet.”

What is the point of this person?

Ludmila’s gaze went from the Dryad – who pointedly looked away – to Lord Mare. She reached out to draw Lord Mare into a private discussion, but one of his Elf Maids slapped her hand away.

『My lord, is it acceptable to have someone like this as a Chief? Even an uneducated girl from a farming village could do better than her.』

Lord Mare stared at her. Had she violated an unspoken point of etiquette by using an ability to speak directly with him?

“The Green Hole is one big experiment,” he replied after a moment, “so the result is the result.”

She couldn’t help but wonder if ‘Chief’ Perlia was at least a part of the reason why the administration’s Elder Liches seemed to look down on everyone. Hopefully, the Nobles and their magistrates in the Sorcerous Kingdom had clearly shown the difference between an official administrator and the lazy Dryad standing in front of her.

“A-Anyway,” Lord Mare said, “we should keep going. Past this orchard is the meadow where most of the plant-type Heteromorphs live.”

Ludmila fell into step beside Lord Mare – or at least as close as she could get with the three Maids ‘protecting’ him. The other Dryads working in their respective parts of the orchard watched them curiously as they passed, but didn’t approach them.

“Is there any particular reason why you’re keeping the resident races separate, my lord?” Ludmila asked.

“The residents of the Green Hole are mostly from the Great Forest of Tob,” the Dark Elf answered. “They didn’t know how to live with other races before we brought them here. We had to be extra careful of the plant-type Heteromorphs since they’re powerful and dangerous relative to races like Lizardmen.”

Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t think of any plant-type Heteromorphs that weren’t predatory or parasitic. Pretty much any living thing could be food or rendered into fertiliser. Not only were they incentivised to attack animals that wandered too close, but they also had the tools to capture and kill their prey. Even as a ‘newborn’ Dryad, Glasir had potent natural weapons and was far stronger than the average Beastman who had invaded the Draconic Kingdom.

“Have there been any incidents?”

“No. Everyone keeps to themselves unless someone brings them together for something. Trying to get different races to live in harmony is pretty hard when they stick to their respective ‘territories’. Everyone just has a preferred habitat and each race’s instincts make them wary of one another. The Lizardmen, for instance, are averse to forests, so they won’t even enter the orchard. They don’t like farming in the fields, either.”

“Could it be that the farming experiments haven’t gotten very far because the races involved don’t have any aptitude for it?”

“Aptitude? Mmh…from what I’ve read, the races here don’t have any restrictions on production-type Job Classes. Some of them are showing production bonuses from getting Job Class Levels, so it isn’t as if they aren’t getting anywhere at all. Since the average Human Farmer in the region doesn’t seem to be doing much better, I figured it’s just something that takes time.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

It was difficult to prove, either way. Farming in the region was as mundane as mundane could be. No one ever spoke of prodigy Farmers like one might speak of prodigy Adventurers or even a renowned artisan. In fact, no Farmer ever gained much more fame than raising a prize hog or growing the largest pumpkin at the local harvest fair, which was usually forgotten by the time the next fair rolled around.

This was decidedly strange considering that Farming households made up over ninety per cent of the population. One would think that there would be plenty of examples by virtue of having the largest sample size. Instead, Farming was considered a provincial occupation with absolutely no expectation of anything out of the ordinary attached.

“Have you considered the next step for the Farmers in Warden’s Vale?” Ludmila asked.

“There’s actually a problem with that…”

“Have they not shown sufficient progress in their Job Class growth, my lord?”

“You’d know better than me about that,” Lord Mare replied. “What I was referring to was a problem on our end. None of the Second-tier plants that we have are suited for large-scale agriculture.”

Lord Mare stopped at the edge of the orchard, scanning a flowering meadow that stretched to the fringes of the Green Hole. After a moment, he walked through the grass and stopped in front of a low-lying shrub. It appeared to be a species of low-growing juniper aside from the fact that it was bright pink instead of the usual blue-green.

“This is Maiden’s Fancy,” Lord Mare told her. “It produces Second-tier berries that can be harvested once an hour.”

“…once an hour, my lord?”

“Un. Most people would probably think it’s a miracle plant and do what they can to raise crops of it, but the problem is that it only grows in certain spots. You may have noticed other plants around the Green Hole that sort of stick out like this.”

Ludmila nodded. The forest that once stood where the Green Hole was had been cut down, but eye-catching plants that weren’t part of the new crops could still be seen here and there.

“That’s because the Green Hole used to be a forest. Those plants were ‘resource nodes’ within that forest. I-I think you’ve seen similar things in the wilderness?”

“There are specific locations where special plants may be harvested,” Ludmila replied, “but my lord is the first person I’ve ever heard refer to them as ‘resource nodes’. And they certainly cannot be harvested once an hour. At best, it’s once a week for the more prolific plants.”

As if on cue, the bunches of green berries on the plant turned a bright shade of indigo. Ludmila backed away as a familiar-looking being ambled over on a carriage of vines and roots.

“An Alraune?”

“We have a colony of them from the Great Forest of Tob,” Lord Mare nodded.

Sitting atop her huge red blossom, the Alraune lowered herself to pick the berries from the Maiden’s Fancy and placed them into a woven basket. The plant-type Hetermorph was about half the size of the one she had killed in The Blister, but it would likely be seen by the neighbouring countries as a deadly monster that required a Gold-rank Adventurer team to dispatch. This one, however, paid neither Lord Mare nor Ludmila any mind as she slowly went about her work.

“What happens if you plant the seeds from this plant?” Ludmila asked.

“They don’t germinate unless they’re sown in the same spots,” Lord Mare answered. “I tried to grow seeds from every plant here in a few dozen locations around the Sorcerous Kingdom and none of them would sprout. It was pretty disappointing – when I saw that we could raise plants from the outside in here, I thought we might be able to do it the other way around.”

“If that’s the case,” Ludmila said, “what about those plants you’re having Glasir take care of? And there’s Glasir’s tree, for that matter…”

The Alraune finished harvesting and moved on. Lord Mare led them back to the dirt path crossing the meadow.

“After my first few tries failed,” Lord Mare said, “I did some research in Ashurbanipal and decided to try making cuttings, instead. They looked like they were doing fine at first, but then they all stopped growing at around the same size. The tree that I put in Warden’s Vale is the only one that kept growing. The same thing happened with the other cuttings – you’ve seen the plants that I put on top of Corelyn Castle, right?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lord Mare had put a great deal of thought into designing Clara’s rooftop garden, but none of the plants that he transplanted seemed to grow. At first, Ludmila figured that they needed to adapt to their new environment, but it had been months since then.

“The only ‘rule’ that I’ve figured out for sure so far is that those plants will die if they aren’t around a Divine Ash,” Lord Mare said.

“Have you asked anyone else about it?”

“Eh…big sis and I are supposed to be the experts on this kind of stuff. I have some theories, but I’m still trying to think of ways to test them.”

“What are they?”

“The first is that it has to do with Glasir. She’s the obvious difference between her tree and the rest of the cuttings, after all. I know Pinison and the others seem pretty lazy, but they do have the means to tend to their trees. Glasir might be so diligent because she has to work extra hard to make her tree grow. She might be ‘levelling’ the tree by levelling herself.”

As far as theories went, it started reasonably enough, but, by the end of it, she wasn’t sure what to think. Glasir didn’t seem to pay any special attention to her tree. If anything, the Death Knight carrying it around kept a closer eye on it.

“Even if that was the case,” Ludmila noted, “it doesn’t explain how she was born in the first place.”

“Yeah, which brings us to another theory: the high positive energy state of your Area is making the growth of the tree possible. The excess positive energy seems to infuse all of the living things there and that seems to influence their health and growth. The cutting’s growth could have been induced by the same process…or maybe it’s like a supplement? It could even be that it isn’t the same tree as the one that I brought in anymore. Like a magical mutation or something.”

Could trees do that? Nothing indicated that they could, but a powerful Druid would know better than she did.

“What does that mean, my lord?” She asked, “Practically speaking.”

“Dunno,” Lord Mare shrugged. “All I know is that it looked like there was a set of rules regarding all of the different Divine Ash cuttings, but Glasir’s tree broke the rules. It could mean some promising things, but it’s too soon to tell. Anyway, one of the things I want to try is–”

A strange chime sounded from the skies above, followed by the voice of Lady Aura.

“Ah…ah…testing? The Nazarick Grand Tournament will resume in thirty minutes. For those who are attending the matches, please enter the arena in an orderly manner. No fighting over seats!”

The announcement ended with an audible click.

“I guess we’ll have to continue later,” Lord Mare said.

“Thank you for taking the time to entertain me so far, my lord,” Ludmila replied. “Where is the arena that Lady Aura mentioned?”

Lord Mare pointed with his staff.

“Those tower-like things sticking up above the trees over there are a part of it,” he told her. “If we fly, it should take less than five minutes to get there.”

A chorus of dismayed voices accompanied them as they rose into the air. Lord Mare had cast flight magic on himself, but hadn’t done the same for his Maids.

“Please take care of yourself, Lord Mare!”

“Don’t let the Human ambush you on the way!”

“If she attacks you, run away as fast as you can and call for help!”

Just what do they expect me to do with him?

“If you don’t mind my asking, Lord Mare,” Ludmila said as they skimmed over the treetops, “why are your Maids so hostile against Humans?”

“Probably because they were once slaves to a Human,” Lord Mare replied. “They didn’t seem to enjoy the experience.”

“Where were they originally from?”

“The Great Forest of Evasha.”

They were prisoners of war taken by the Theocracy…

Alessia framed things as if the Elves had been the instigators of the war between the Elven Kingdom in Evasha and the Slane Theocracy, but Ludmila supposed that the underlying reasons for the conflict wouldn’t offer any consolation to the former slaves. It was a shame that such a valuable source of information about the lands to the south was seemingly closed off to her.

“Have they spoken much about their homes?” Ludmila asked, “They must have expressed at least some interest in returning after the conflict between the Elf Kingdom and the Theocracy is settled.”

Of course, if the war resulted in the annexation of the Elf Kingdom, that was a different story.

“They don’t talk about their homes at all,” Lord Mare answered. “All they seem to do is try to take care of me and big sis. They aren’t very good at it.”

“What did they do before?”

“The one with blue hair is a Cleric, the blonde is a Druid, and the pink-haired one is Ranger. The Worker who owned them dragged them around to use as support casters and sex slaves.”

Ludmila grimaced at his response. Never mind being a source of general information about the Elf Kingdom, they were also windows on its religion, culture, and ecology. If they had been soldiers, there was also an opportunity to collect military intelligence.

“They seem like a wellspring of information about our neighbours in the south,” Ludmila said.

“N-Neighbours?”

“The Great Forest of Evasha is on the southern border of the Abelion Wilderness, isn’t it?”

“I thought it was on the Theocracy border…”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t border both, my lord. Anyway, what I meant was that they’re potentially a good source of useful information now that we’ve expanded our sphere of influence in that direction.”

“I-I guess? I haven’t asked, though.”

She frowned slightly at the Dark Elf’s response. Was it simply due to the mentality of people who lived underground? It was evident in the early defensive doctrines of the Sorcerous Kingdom, as well. At the same time, it was hardly Lady Aura or Lord Mare’s realm of responsibility. Foreign Affairs would probably know better. She would have to ask Florine about it when she had the chance.

As the towers loomed closer, the forest gave way to a clearing where stands with festive displays formed a single lane leading to the arena. There were neither stand operators nor festival-goers present, so Ludmila could only assume that everyone had gone to spectate the tournament.

“So these three Elves battle slaves, or something like that?” Ludmila asked, “Why become regular Maids, if so? Surely they would serve better in other capacities…”

“We told them that they didn’t need to,” Lord Mare answered, “but they insisted on becoming our personal servants. It’s almost as if they think their survival depends on it. They’ve probably messed up their builds with Maid levels by now.”

“Aren’t Maids rather versatile? Those in His Majesty’s household boast a wide variety of specialisations.”

“Um…”

Ludmila waited for him to elaborate, but they arrived at their destination before he did. The horn-like structures that Lord Mare had pointed out back at the Field of Flowers loomed high overhead, but didn’t seem to serve any particular purpose. Below them, an arena not unlike the Grand Arena in Arwintar hosted a multitude of races excitedly awaiting the main event.

Lord Mare circled the edge of the arena partway before alighting on the topmost level of seating. They made their way down the nearest set of stairs and a queasy feeling came over her as they approached a grand pavilion flanked by members of the Sorcerer King’s household. She eyed the seating on the opposite side of the field.

“Lord Mare,” she said, “I should find a place more suited to my station.”

“Eh? But…”

Someone bumped into her from the side. She froze as she felt an arm hook itself around hers, followed by the press of an amply-padded bosom.

“I was wondering when you would show up.”

Lady Shalltear’s voice rose from beside her. Ludmila’s immediate discomfort mingled with the feeling already present within her, creating a sensation she couldn’t quite describe.

“Did you have fun with Holenyot?” Her liege smiled up at her.

“Lord Holenyot was a most gracious host, my lady. If possible, I would like to personally convey my thanks for his hospitality.”

“He was that good, huh? I knew that sort of thing was right up your alley.”

She tested Lady Shalltear’s hold on her. The Freedom effect from her ring didn’t immediately recognise it as a movement-impairing effect, so it didn’t seem that her liege was trying to keep her from getting away.

“My lady, I was just about to find a seat for myself. Please do enjoy your time with His Majesty.”

“Nonsense!” Lady Shalltear gave her arm a squeeze, “While Lord Ainz may have appreciated your…enthusiasm earlier today, you should really offer a proper greeting, don’t you think?”

And, just like that, she was trapped. Her upbringing demanded that she redeem herself from the previous fiasco. She looked down at Lady Shalltear, who was smiling as brilliantly as ever.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Lady Shalltear replied lightly. “But this is for your sake. I truly empathise with how you feel about His Majesty, but you’ve regressed to how you were back before visiting the Katze Plains. Imagine if you collapsed into a puddle of your own fluids at some official function of the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

Ludmila glanced at Lord Mare, but he showed no visible reaction to Lady Shalltear’s words.

“Did you have to put it that way, my lady?”

“The imagery is effective, isn’t it? Now, let’s go and keep Lord Ainz company, shall we?”

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