Overlord And The Blue Citadel - Chapter 11

Thud. Pavel lay there unconscious in the grass, his chest slowly rising up before deflating as he let out his breath. Sprawled out on what appeared to be the front lawn of a small rancher property, the elite ranger was hardly moving.

“F-Fenrir-sama! What did you just do to my father!?” Neia stared down at her father as she put a hand through her blonde hair, turning her head to look over at Fenrir, her eye wide and accusingly glaring at him.

“Put him to sleep,” Fenrir scratched the side of his head with one finger looking down at her. “He wasn’t being cooperative, so pacification seemed to be the best route to take.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose hearing the information he was spewing, before throwing her hands out in front of her, somewhat panicked as she pleaded. “You told him I was yours, obviously anyone in their right mind would assume…” She let her arms drop to her sides, “I…I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t kill him…” Neia turned away from the tall werewolf, looking over her father who seemed to be peacefully sleeping there in the middle of foreign terrain. “He had talked back to a God, even after seeing what you created…” Squatting down by her father’s head, she ran a gloved hand through his hair. She then tilted her head back to look up at Fenrir, pursing her lips.

While in a way his assessment and actions were thought out, for the most part, this was only a temporary fix for a long-term problem. Fenrir had given him two choices but forced the first one when he didn’t give an immediate answer.

Then he took her father prisoner, gave him a place to stay which was far better than a jail cell, but then also told him he pretty much owned his daughter. That he owned her.

In a way, Fenrir could very much get away with owning her, either as a slave or as a lover. Neia didn’t really think that she was that kind of material, at least as a lover. She was modest, she couldn’t see herself on the same level as him and the social construct she had observed all her life was near obscured by the way she was being treated by him.

Fenrir was Scholarly, but he was also arrogant, at the same time he was far from ignorant. This God knew what he wanted and could get away with just taking it. Instead, he had been trying to wedge himself into her heart, into her mind, and into her good graces.

He wanted her trust and she wanted to give it, but only if reason permitted it. Gods were not inherently good or evil, which was well represented in the Theocracy’s pantheon of Great Gods.

The one thing that sat well with her though, was the fact that he wasn’t turned off or away by her eyes. If anything he had locked his gaze with her own. Not many people would do that, not with her. Did he like her eyes? Neia began to wonder, what did he want out of her other than leading some sort of faith that involved Shadows and Wolves?

Her eyes rested on those ears on the top of his head, they were twitching. A light blush formed over her face as she thought about touching them.

Fenrir clearly heard her heart rate quicken for a few seconds and saw the heat rise to her face, and began to stroke his beard. Though still, he said nothing as within a minute of that blush appearing, it was gone as she broke her gaze from him.

“If I wanted to kill him, I would have done it in the very beginning, rather than capture him and bring him deeper into the Citadel. Though I doubt he is a threat, he is essential.”

Parting her lips, Neia believed she understood his words, “Because… You want my trust?”

“No, because it would destroy you if I were to kill him,” Fenrir’s eyes transversed over her face, as it contorted into an expression of surprise, before tracing over her collarbone before letting out a sigh. “Or it would completely turn you away from me, or even against me.”

Neia could analyze his stern tone in which he used, he was completely serious with his words. “I am a Paladin. I swore fealty to you, Fenrir-sama, if I were to go back on my oath, what would that make me?”

“The Roble Holy Kingdom really doesn’t deserve you,” Fenrir shook his head as she raised to her feet. It was clear he was praising her with these words, but she still admired her kingdom. She saw its glory, its power, and even though it wasn’t as powerful as other nations… It was still her homeland.

“Perhaps,” Neia rubbed the side of her face with her hand. “It is my home though, and I will fight for it, even if I have to fight just a portion of it in order to save it.” Her eyes traced over God’s face, trying to see what his response would be. “So please, Fenrir-sama… Don’t spoil me with your praises.”

“A patriot, it’s been a long time since there had been one of those…” Fenrir seemed to have softened eyes from the words she had shared and the ones he had given in return.

Neia simply blinked up at him when hearing this though, not sure whether or not being such a thing was good or bad to him. Seeing his eyes told her, he was actually happy to hear about it, but she didn’t really understand why.

As if seeing her slight confusion, he spoke up again with a question that caught her off guard almost immediately. “If I were to spoil you with praises, would you trust me less?”

“No… Not necessarily?” Neia gazed up at him inquisitively, not understanding why he was asking this question in particular. Resting her palm against the bow which was in her scabbard, she shifted to one side as she stood in place. “Why were you so adamant about me being yours…? To my father, I mean. Does it have something to do what you said before? About seeing a kindred spirit in me?”

She had to admit, that sounded romantic if anything it was as if she was reading into a synopsis of some sort of epic. A god falls for a peasant girl who struggles with a sword. At the same time, she again had a hard time believing this God as it seems he was, liked her in such a fashion at a first glance.

“I… I don’t know if I’m crossing a line by saying this, but I think you and my father… Could get along… If you both find something in common, perhaps he’ll accept you.” Her eyes turned back towards her father as Fenrir too looked at him with an absent look in his eyes.

“I could erase his memories and start over.” Taking a step forward, Fenrir looked over to his Squire, raising a brow to see her reaction.

“No,” Neia flashed her gaze right back at him again as he came up with the idea of wiping her father’s memory of him. “Do not try erasing my father’s memories,” she massaged her temples as she couldn’t help but shake her head at this, “Please don’t.”

“Huh…” Fenrir knelt down and picked Pavel off the ground, carrying him towards the closest suburban house and opening the front door. The living room had a dark maroon carpet, vanilla white walls, a television box, and a sofa. There were plenty of stock photographs and paintings on the walls as well.

He rested the man down on the sofa, before turning to look at Neia who was standing in the doorframe to the entrance of the house. Her eyes rested on him before she crept further inside.

Her gaze immediately went to the television and her brow raised, before going to the ceiling fan and over to the direction of the kitchen with no door separating it. She walked passed her father and Fenrir and looked it over. Waxed wooden floors, a small dining table for at least five people, and granite counters. The cabinets seemed to be made out of dark wood and the refrigerator was something she had never seen before, it as bigger than any icebox or pantry she had seen.

“What… Kind of house is this, Fenrir-sama?” Her head turned to look at him curiously as she could hear the water heater going in the basement, despite how subtle it was.

“Hm… Judging by the design… Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, one kitchen, one common area, and a basement which I assume has a personal laundromat. It’s a small family home.” Crossing his arms, he raised a brow at her. From what he knew from her they were not a technologically advanced civilization, but they were more advanced than the Medieval times of Earth.

“That’s not what I meant… What are these things?” She gestured her two hands out to the electric stove, then towards the microwave and the fridge, to the television as she stepped outside the kitchen and then towards the imagery that obviously weren’t paintings.

“That’s a stove, the area beneath it that opens up is an oven. That’s a microwave, it’s utilized for warming food up, that’s a television and these are photographs generated by light and ink.”

“Photographs…” Tasting the word on her lips she shrugged lightly and began to wander around the room, looking at pretty much everything. Neia padded on over to a jewelry box and picked it up in one hand.

“What’s in this?” She tossed it up and down slightly, feeling that it wasn’t empty.

“Not sure?” Fenrir crossed his arms.

“Fenrir-sama, Had… uh,” she paused as she was caught in thought before continuing to speak, “People ever lived here before?” It was a normal question to ask, considering all the personal junk laying around.

“Not from my knowledge, no one lived in these houses, they were built and furnished for show.” This was truthful, in one way or another. As the house wasn’t originally something someone could enter normally.

Hearing his answer, Neia could only nod in acknowledgment. Gods creating something because they could don’t sound too far fetched. Though she was rather curious about the clothing and the things she saw in the photographs. One thing added up though, the photos were not all of the same family.

Turning her attention back to the jewelry box in her hand, she pursed her lips. Popping the lid open with her other hand, she nearly jumped as a song came into motion with a tiny dancing ballerina rotating inside. This caused her to fumble the box, before catching it and accidentally slamming it closed.

“What…?” Slowly opening it, she peered inside as the Ballerina stood up and begun to spin once more with the song. The clicking from the gears was scarcely perceptible, but she could recognize there was something inside making it tick. Closing the box, “Can I have this?” Neia inquired as her head turned to face Fenrir.
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Fenrir seemed pleasantly surprised by the things that seemed to be inside the house, and what could be in the others as well. It seemed everything, according to the Ophan’s report, has undoubtedly become real.

So when she asked if she could have it, he simply nodded and turned his attention over towards her sleeping father. He had used the Sleep spell on him, nothing too advanced.

“Thank you…” Neia smiled lightly to herself, looking down at the box and opening it again after having closed it for a second time. The ballerina was heavily detailed, despite how small the face was. She was sure her mother would love something as delicate as this and began wondering if the other houses had similar treasures, or maybe even the other rooms.

Padding over to her father, she placed the box down on the ground beside her as she crouched to his level. “How long is he going to be asleep, Fenrir-sama? You’ll have about three days until the Paladin Order storms the Citadel with their full force…” Her eyes drifted over to him, “Knowing Grandmaster Remedios-dono.”

“And…?”

“If you can talk it out with the Order, there may be a chance of there being a peaceful resolution for all of this… If you allow it, I can have my father deliver a message to them” Neia in a way didn’t want a number of the Paladins to die in vain, but at the same time, they’d likely still see him as an aberration. At least Remedios would, especially if she saw the massive furball he could be.

“We can try it your way, of course, but if it doesn’t work they will run right into their deaths…” Fenrir warned as he frowned as he knew from past events in earth’s history, that humans rarely accepted the unknown. It was clear she had accepted his divinity due to his accomplishments and likely his holy aura.

He doubted though, that everyone was the same as her. Her mind seemed different, and she appeared fixated on wanting to have someone or something to believe in.

“Trust me, Fenrir-sama, and I will learn to trust you more,” Neia shared a smile with him as to allow her words to appeal to him.

Fenrir felt a sensation of nostalgia wash over him as he heard her words, though there was no real apparent expression on his face. He could recall the times in which he first joined Ainz Ooal Gown, the Guild which had Conquered the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

He remembered how he learned to be apart of a team, and for the most part, become friends with everyone he played beside. As they had gone off on dungeon raids and farming, he was often told to trust in the plans of others.

At first, he didn’t really like the idea of working with others and didn’t trust anyone with his own life. Even if it was just a game, he had led a life that always had someone looking to take from it

There was only one person he couldn’t become good friends with though and it was that Evil Chuunibyou. While he could find his dark romanticisms quite comedic, he didn’t like the man too much either. Thinking back on it, he wished he could’ve made up with Ulbert, even if it didn’t mean much. Their communication ended when he had left Ainz Ooal Gown, as it did with most of its members except for Momonga and Buku’s brother Peroroncino.

Fenrir silently thought to himself as his eyes remained on Neia… How was Kazeumi doing? Was she alright? Had he died in the other world? If he did, was she sad? He briefly remembered reports of people disappearing, but he wasn’t sure if it was even related to this at all.

Picturing her with tears running down her face, his expression contorted and morphed into something equivalent of self-condemnation and grief. A vacant look in his eyes, a strange stinging feeling of guilt making a lump in his throat. He was almost taken by his own imagination.

“Uh…” Neia raised a brow seeing him this way, not having seen him like this for the past few days that she had known him. “Fenrir-sama?”

His line of thought interrupted by her small voice, the image in his mind vanished and he resumed a more presentable expression. “Hm?” Hearing her address him by his newly assumed name, he raised a brow. “What is it?”

“…Are you all alright? You were making a very… Painful expression.” She creased her brows as she stared up at him, he was still an impressive figure as he was able to tower over her. His emotions while they were normally hidden behind a stern wall or an arrogant exterior, had been far too clear.

Seeing as he just nodded in response, she parted her lips before hesitantly moving on, “Can you wake up my father…? Leave me alone with him, so I can talk with him?”

“Ah… Yes, but I’ll leave the door open,” waving a hand over the man, Fenrir cast a spell using silent magic. Without waiting to see Pavel’s eyes flutter open, the proclaimed God was walking out of the house and onto the front lawn.

Neia remaining by her dad’s side, watched as the man left the house, before turning her gaze to her father once more. Seeing his eyes open, she smiled lightly, “Hey…”

Nearly immediately Pavel’s arms captured her in a strong embrace, a hug, something she hadn’t gotten or felt from him in a long time. Even though she had gotten a similar embrace earlier when it was revealed she had not been killed.

“My daughter… Neia,” Pavel’s gaze shot forward over her shoulder at the strange box television that was sitting on top of a stand of some sort. His eyes then roamed around the living room, “Where…” His eyes drifted to the open door where the man who had put him to sleep was standing several meters away from in the middle of the yard. “What happened? What did he do to me?” Massaging his eyes with his thumb and index fingers, he sat up on the sofa.

“He used a spell to make you fall asleep… Fenrir-sama means you no harm.”

“He means me no harm?” His eyes flickered from her to the man outside, then back to her again. “The man-beast didn’t even hesitate to put me under. He threatened your life in order to…”

Neia was just staring right through him with the very eyes she inherited from him, a deadpan expression, “He’s not a beastman, he’s a God. He didn’t threaten my life Fenrir-sama is just…” Her head turned to look at werewolf, “Lost.”