The challenge was postponed.
That was the only notable news that reached his ears for the past couple of days.
Since Albedo's challenge, Momonga had faced more scrutiny than before. With almost every single person sizing him up from time to time.
He has to remain stoic from everything. Including falsely veiled insults, the discredit, and the attempted theft of his panoply. Claiming a commoner couldn't have possibly obtained it true legal means.
'As if trying to take it from me by flashing their titles was in any way legal.'
Momonga felt Albedo squeeze his arm with her fingers, sending him a momentary comfort from his own thoughts.
They walked through the dense forest, following everyone else as they make their way to the road and finally to the nearest city–
"You're gonna love E-Rantel Momonga-san!" praised Britta as she clung on to his other arm. Her height barely reach halfway to his chest. "We have one of the most diverse magic shops in Re-Estize!... well, second to the capital of course."
"It would be good to be in a city again."
"Umu! Is the place you came from much the same?"
"You could say that... but friendlier."
"Friendlier?"
"Hmm... To be more accurate, it is a place that accommodates to all races."
"Eh?" Britta was baffled, but Momonga took it as surprise alone.
"Exactly!" he boasts. "Humans, heteromorphs, Demi-humans... there was no law that prohibits entry only the law of co-existence." seeing Britta looked at him with a questioning look, he continued. "For example, lizardmen, they are easy to co-exist with. They eat fish, only meat when desperate or starving. While brain-eaters on the other hand are prohibited the practice within the sanctuary walls. All races are labeled as criminals should they kill for food within the city, but! No laws exist that prohibit selling them."
Britta went a little green at the thought. An open market for flesh, body parts.... organs.
"Those who violate the rules of Sanctuary are immediately hunted down and killed."
"...no way..." Britta whispers in disbelief.
"Haha. Believe it or not, there are communities that actually assembled to hunt those criminals down. Some are mixed of various races, others exclusive, and they actually compete. The Kill gets you fine equipments or loot from the target and the bounty is actually quite lucrative."
'The Sanctuary City... I miss it. The fun days with the few 'not so struggling' moments where I have to compete for power... Yamaiko-hime... '
"Uhh... *kuhum– I never got to ask but, how long have you been traveling, Momonga-san?" Britta asked, hoping to stray from the rather crazy and very vivid image of co-existence.
'...how long huh... I admit,' he looked up at the clear blue sky, closing his eyes as he listened to the footfalls, voices and the rustling leaves, with the chirp of birds and rattling of chains. "Years... I've been looking forward to this for years."
His whisper surprised the Adventurers trailing just behind him. Even Britta was a little enamored at his words, feeling him soften in her arms for a moment while fighting the urge to give the man a hug.
But Pluton Ainzach felt a bit of defeat. He had wanted to look into the man's past. Send someone to connect with the Kingdom he hailed from and possibly even establish a Guild there. But now...
That possibility might as well be a pipe dream. 'Years worth of venture... No Team, no matter how lucrative the offer, will take that deal.'
Adventurer Teams after all, were people either wanting to be a Hero, or those desperate for coin. With only a handful truly seeking what lies beyond the Horizon.
"...I apologize, I did not mean to dampen your mood." seeing Momonga bow and apologize, made Britta a bit anxious.
"No! No! Please don't! It's alright, I mean! I kinda do get it? I guess. I'm just... well-" Britta breath out, calming herself before saying. "I believe you."
Albedo felt Momonga jolt at the girl's words. Silently clenching her fist at the potential challenge.
"I've seen you fight. Seen you move. I admit, seeing the aftermath of your clash against a Skeletal Dragon. I already worship you in my head. HaHa-" she rubbed her curly ginger colored hair, with a sought blush on her freckles, "I just... didn't expect you to be so... Relatable?"
"Ah yes, the comfort of a soft bed after a hard day's work."
"Umu! Exactly Momonga-san!" Britta chirped joyfully, feeling some sort of camaraderie with the Heroic figure.
"...are there more like you?" the voice cut through everyone.
Everyone turned to Brain Unglaus, hands bound by chains with a more muscular and wider man standing next to him wearing an impressive plate of warrior armor.
"Brain-" said the armored warrior.
"Aren't you curious, Stronoff?" Unglaus interjects. "I made you sweat for your win at least. I achieve that much. That at least told me that the gap between us isn't as insurmountable as I thought. But this man, this Momonga-" Brain then turns to the fully armored man that defeated him. "You wouldn't believe me Stronoff but... I know he will beat you".
His statement echoed against the silent crowd listening to him.
"It is rather unlucky that your King agreed to make a spectacle out of it."
Every person of note had their eyes glinting with unspoken interest at Momonga. With most either considering upping the stakes while others thought to reconsider their standing. The only thing holding them back is pride.
Gazef Stronoff was a commoner that bested every nobleman, knight, or protege from every notable house during he Kingdom Tournament. For them to admit that there is someone better, is admitting their own powerlessness, in the face of someone mightier.
Silently, most of these people hopes that the gap is not as the blue haired swordsman described. But closer and still higher than Stronoff.
"I fight for my King and I will not be bested without his permission." answers Gazef, but Momonga gives his own words.
"You opinion is heard. It is amusing, and lastly... inconsequential."
The days of being belittled had ignitied a flame within him. The dismissive words, the insults to his integrity and honor, to question his motives when all he wanted was to help.
He believed them to be fools, idiots, children. But pride has its own way of making -seemingly trivial- things insulting to the oldest of men.
Momonga didn't notice it, but a crack within his mind is now seeping darkness and looking for something to devour.
His red eyes flashed beneath his helm, shading his visor red and beneath the shadows of the trees, he seemed to swell with the following words.
"Truth... has no place among the tidings of the weak."
Words of self reprimand, a lesson learned in two lives passed, felt like words of hard learned wisdom to the rest.
•
•
—.—.—.—.—Break—.—.—.—.—
3 Days later
°
She rode sideways on a horse. Her head pressed at the chestplate and her beloved's arms at both sides, holding the horse's reigns.
Albedo sighed feeling her hands gently trailed the crevice in between Momonga's abs. Of course, his clothes were getting in the way. But the joy comes from her imagination and most of all, how he would jolt in surprise from time to time. As if fighting a ticklish sensation that she happily explored.
But then again, her game served more of a pass time while her mind is also warred with thoughts.
Albedo is stuck in a very... Undecided... mood, since meeting the nobility that surrounded the so called King of a Kingdom.
She had to hold a scoff at that statement.
From the moment they saw her, the humans –she preferred to call 'insects'– had taken it upon themselves to 'entertain' the lady hoping to alleviate her of her boredom.
Their attempts to 'woo' her felt like gelatinous goo. Smelling like rotten flesh and clinging to her despite her obvious revilement.
She had often sneered at some of them. Specially those who got far too close for comfort.
Her saving grace? The Black Knight as they called him. One who's arms seemed to find itself around her waist everytime someone tried to touch her.
Such moments made her feel like squealing like a girl. At the same time as those thoughts died in her throat. Still, she didn't dare deny herself the goofy and happy smile that she believes she earned.
Her heart warmed with his protective side. She could even feel the irritation wafting off of him. Mainly directed at those who approached her.
It was his actions that actually drove her to try a bit harder in her efforts to secure his dream. And so lead to the feeling of indecision.
The Princess' death was a simple move. Escalation.
Eight Fingers, according to Edström's memories, were deeply rooted into the Noble Faction.
A fact she would have liked to have known before killing the Princess. Now, her death seemed be less of an escalation and more of a convenience. Something that can be replicated with lesser costs. And unfortunately, it seemed so poorly timed.
The Kingdom is already crumbling. But not to the point that it was beyond salvation. Not yet.
Escalating things at this stage meant deliberately ruining a painting by hand. And unfortunately, the painter is gonna want who ruined it.
That! she can't afford.
Subtlety is a must at this stage. It is best to let the rot fester and grow. Let the wall behind the canvas crumble and rot. Let the mold deepen and crawl. And when the beautiful painting of a white marble Kingdom crumbles, it will start from the point of view that the painter won't notice.
...not until the foundation had long since been gone.
Albedo clicked her tounge. She made a mistake. Now, she needs to find a way to correct it without going against her Lord's visions.
She felt her Lord's eyes turn to her, and all she could do was pout with a teary eyed look. How exactly was she to explain the mistake she's made.
"It's alright... All will be well, I promise Albedo."
His words struck at the metaphorical stake and pierced her heart. The only difference was, she didn't dislike it.
Soon, their caravan arrived at their destination.
Her eyes took in the disappointingly thin walls of a so-called 'Fortress City'.
She saw the lack of a moat beneath the walls. Making it ripe for climbing by means of ladders. Non-existent ballistae against sieg engines.
And when they got inside, they had but a gate house beneath the portcullis. And catapults so old the wooden beams looked like they were infected by termites, while the ropes looked like they were about to snap.
It was- "Disappointing."
Albedo nodded at her Lord's words. It's only selling point is the amount of man power it could contain.
E-Rantel was alive with activity.
Almost every single soul was on the move as more and more people poured in, from all corners of the Kingdom.
Albedo saw the lines upon lines of the lowliest of peasants to the highest of nobility. All men, all able bodied, all gearing for war.
Albedo watched people hauling carts upon carts of hide, furr and wood.
Neither artisan nor seemsters, still they sewed their own leather armors into place. Those who are better off either wore a chestplate or mismatched pieces in other parts. All badly maintained.
They habded a dull sword that was neither properly forged nor handled by a smith. Just a slab of steel or iron poured into a mold and barely hammered into shape.
She also noticed how some seemed to have expected it and were prepared with wet stones to sharpen the edges. The others had to settle with a back aching hammers against molded iron and steel.
There are those who hauled food. Irresponsibility distributed.
Most worked on woopen pole's, sharpening the end into a point. Hoping it find the cinch in a rampaging horse's armor and kill it before the rider reaches them with their blade.
Albedo could feel the defeat in the air. Some are resigned, most were angry. But none...none were pushed to he point of rebellion... Not yet.
That was when she knew, she fucked up.