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When he agreed to become king, mostly because it was what his guardians pushed on him and he accepted to avoid looking foolish, Ainz decided he wanted a lively, yet peaceful kingdom. A kingdom where his people felt awe for him, not unbridled fear.
Therefore, as soon as he established his dominion over the former kingdom of Re-Estize, he was already planning a festive calendar. That bread and circuses thing, as Demiurge called it, to cheer up his people and distract them from his plans for world domination and future massacres.
Ainz truly hoped it would work.
But back to his festive calendar... it wasn't anything big. They were still studying it, but it would certainly include the founding date of the Sorcerer Kingdom, the new capital, E-Rantel (which they were still considering renaming), some Japanese festivals, such as Tanabata and Hanabi, and other local festivals that they needed to learn about before deciding whether or not they were worth implementing.
And realizing that almost a year had passed since the Baharuth Empire had become an official vassal of Nazarick, Ainz thought that was reason enough for celebration to be added to their festive calendar.
Why not?
It was the first human kingdom to recognize his and become a vassal of the Sorcerer Kingdom. Something unexpected, of course, but which in the end, proved to be a wise decision. It was something important, which should be celebrated if they wanted to show the humans of this world the benefits of surrendering to the Great Tomb of Nazarick (Albedo's words, not Ainz's).
And he wasn't the only one who agreed with this, as already noticed.
“Certainly, Ainz-sama. The empire has been prospering brilliantly under your rule; the least they can do is acknowledge your magnificence with a grand feast, though I doubt they are capable of doing anything worthy of you, my Lord!” Albedo exclaimed with a smile, which was already somewhat suspicious, but he ignored it in favor of the gentle emotion of satisfaction.
“I don’t need it to be anything grand or so special, but surely, Jircniv-dono will agree that this is a special date.” “Ainz said, imagining that his friend would surely be pleased.
.
.
He wasn’t.
“A-a party? A party in the empire?!” Jircniv inquired, unsure if he had heard what he thought he had heard.
They were seated facing each other in an elegantly prepared reception room within Nazarick. Everything there screamed perfection: the impeccable carpets, the ornate black columns, the respectful silence that seemed almost… rehearsed. For any ordinary visitor, it would be an indescribable honor. For Jircniv, it was like sitting in an electric chair adorned with gold.
And his executioner seemed too happy to care about his agony. In fact, it was probably his agony that pleased his executioner.
“Certainly!” exclaimed Ainz. “It has been brought to my attention that in a few weeks it will be a year since our vassalage agreement was signed. It’s something… significant, don’t you think? Surely your citizens will appreciate such a commemoration.”
Jircniv felt a chill run down his spine, Ainz’s words echoing in his mind like a funeral bell.
“Yes, well, certainly, we can’t deny how significant this vassalage agreement was. A historical milestone. Yes. Very… historical.” He replied, carefully measuring each syllable, trying not to let the hand holding the cup tremble and betray him.
On the other side of Ainz, Albedo tilted his head slightly, his hands crossed in front of his body, black wings resting elegantly on his back. His smile was sweet. Too sweet. Jircniv knew that smile. It was the kind of smile that preceded epic misfortunes.
“If you’ll allow me, Ainz-sama,” the succubus asked for permission, to which Ainz nodded. Albedo then turned to Jircniv, conjuring a scroll out of thin air. “Since this is a special celebration between Nazarick and the Empire, we must do something grand. Something that demonstrates to the rest of you… humans…” The words came out almost through clenched teeth, in a barely concealed grimace of disgust. “The grandeur and advantages of becoming vassals of our kingdom!”
Gods, so they intended to conquer other poor nations?! How many more? The entire continent?!
Jircniv listened to Albedo’s plans with apprehension, sensing the misfortune that would befall him if it went ahead.
In his mind, he could already see it: resentful nobles, suspicious generals, the people murmuring that the emperor was now celebrating his own submission, looks of fear, disgust, and hatred... An official celebration would not be seen as diplomacy—it would be seen as a deliberate humiliation. A cruel reminder that Baharuth now lived under the shadow of an undead sovereign of absolute power.
And resentment, Jircniv knew well, was the perfect fuel for revolts.
Revolts that led to punishments.
Punishments that led to total annihilation.
All because he had allowed a “party.”
“Gwo-Gwon-dono! If you’ll allow me— Albedo-sama!” Jircniv practically begged, maintaining a smile on his face.
“Something wrong, Emperor? Doesn’t our celebration plan please you?!” Albedo glared at him, making Jircniv’s smile falter.
“Certainly not! Nothing coming from the grand tomb of Nazarick could ever be considered wrong or displeasing to me, certainly! I know that, given all I’ve seen, you work hard to ensure perfection!”
Ainz straightened up slightly, pleased with the compliments. If it had come from someone else, he would have ignored it, finding the words pure, meaningless flattery. But Jircniv was someone he held in high esteem, and he certainly wouldn’t dare speak just to please him. Even Albedo was slightly pleased with his words, because in fact, despite despising humans, she had worked hard enough on that plan for her Lord to approve.
The emperor's opinion was merely a formality.
“But if I may offer my opinion, Gown-dono,” Jircniv continued.
“Certainly. Feel free, Jircniv-dono. We are friends!”
Jircniv shifted in his ridiculously comfortable armchair, trying not to be shaken by being called a “friend.” He was still getting used to this role. It was a slow process.
“While a celebration would be a significant event, I don’t think now is the right time,” he began.
“And why not?!” Albedo questioned fiercely, before quickly calming down and speaking more softly, his voice full of feigned innocence. “Are you saying you’re not grateful to Ainz-sama?! When he could have annihilated you and your empire, he showed mercy and even formed a mutually beneficial alliance! Don’t you think a year of stability under Nazarick’s benevolent protection is worthy of celebration?”
“Albedo, calm down. Jircniv-dono certainly has his reasons for not considering this an opportune moment. Let's hear from him first.”
Jircniv sighed in relief, straightened his posture, and looked Ainz directly in the eyes, an unwavering gaze he always used when dealing with noble and arrogant vassals. And that was something Ainz admired; those who could face him without fear (at least without apparent fear).
“Gown-dono, becoming your vassal was a great honor and a great gain for Baharuth; you will always have my gratitude for accepting my request.”
Even though that was never Ainz's intention.
Even though not making such a request could have resulted in the end of the empire in Jircniv's view.
“However, in a year, not enough fruits of this vassalage have yet been seen, and humans are still very ignorant of who you truly are, of your benevolence and power. If our vassalage were celebrated now, the people would only see it as a demonstration of submission to a being that, for millennia, other kingdoms, especially the Slane Theocracy, have propagated as an evil being. I fear that, instead of feeling encouraged, the people would feel oppressed.”
“So you blame the ignorance of your own race for refusing such an important date?” Albedo questioned him. “How funny; the ancient kingdom of Re-Estize and you yourself, for your own benefit, do not seem to cower before the greatness of my Lord. Are you trying to undermine the authority of Nazarick, Emperor Jircniv? Perhaps, trying to regain your former power?”
“Certainly not. I am not foolish enough to commit such treason, Albedo-sama!” Jircniv quickly assured him, sweating profusely. “As for me, I’ve only adapted to Gown-dono’s presence, which isn’t the case for ordinary citizens. Gown-dono, if I may be so bold, I suggest you postpone the celebration until the fifth year. Until then, I will certainly ensure that the entire empire knows of your good deeds and understands the truth about Nazarick. If you allow me, I can offer—”
“Emperor.” Albedo interrupted him. She said nothing, but Jircniv understood.
That wasn’t his decision. If Ainz said the celebration would happen, it would happen, and Jircniv would only have to accept it. He subtly lowered his head in submission to the advisor and looked at Ainz, sipping some of the cooling tea, praying, if he still had any god to hear him, that the skeleton king would be reasonable.
He was counting on that at that moment, trusting in Ainz’s good sense.
Ainz, for his part, pondered what Jircniv had said.
Although it was somewhat disappointing that they couldn't formally commemorate such a date, it wasn't a huge loss, and he understood the emperor's point of view. He certainly wouldn't be thrilled to celebrate the day of his submission to a stranger, even with all the support this advancement was giving his house, when he didn't even know his face.
And of course, there was the whole issue of him being an undead skeleton, and humans in general hating the undead. What Jircniv said was a fact; there was a great deal of hatred towards the undead, and they had just established themselves in that new world and had already annihilated a kingdom.
Certainly, this did not paint a good picture of them.
“I understand; it’s not a great loss. Of course, I would very much like to see everyone celebrating and having fun on such an auspicious date, but if you think this will bring more harm than good, I don’t see why insist for now.” Ainz said, to Jircniv’s relief. “After all, you know your people better than I do!”
“Thank you, Gown-dono. Your kindness will not be forgotten.” Jircniv sighed in relief, a small smile adorning his face. If it weren’t where they were, he would have shed tears of relief. Now, he only needed to ensure that, in four years, the entire Empire would worship the ground Ainz walked on. Or at least not scream in sheer terror at the sight of him, even if only his image.
Damn it.
“Let’s make this first year a private celebration among rulers, then.” Ainz resumed. “But I still want this to be publicized among your people as something good. Let’s put it in the newspapers and on the guild notice boards… we can take a picture and use it as propaganda for our alliance. What do you think, Jircniv-dono?”
“I think with a more… milder propaganda, I can bend—calm the nobles’ spirits!”
“Nobles always seem to be a problem, huh?!” Ainz observed. He wasn’t a big reader in the past, when he was human, but he remembered seeing some medieval fantasy stories, mainly because of the Yggdrasil game theme, which made him a little curious, and he always found it curious how the nobles in the stories could be a pain in the neck for the main ruling character. Apparently, this wasn’t mere fiction. “If you wish, I can help you deal with this.”
“No need!” Jircniv quickly refused, thinking of a possible massacre. “In exchange for such kindness, may I offer you something else? I know that nothing I have can be truly useful when Gown-dono lives in such a paradise, but consider this my tribute from this first year.”
“Anything?” Ainz questioned, tilting his head slightly, thoughtfully. Jircniv felt a fleeting pang in his stomach.
“Whatever I can offer will be yours, Gown-dono.” The emperor assured him, hoping it wasn't some absurd request. He should have thought better of his words, but now it was too late to back down.
“Hmmm, honestly, I would feel a little bad asking for something just for myself when it should be a joint celebration…” Ainz thought for a moment, discreetly rubbed his right jawbone and looked at the emperor, almost ashamed. “…but if Jircniv-dono is willing to give me something, could you…” a shy cough. “Could you address me by my name?”
There was a long silence in the room, and Jircniv stared at Ainz in confusion and Albedo in shock, before the succubus exploded.
“A-A-A-AINZ-SAMA?! WHAT... WHAT ARE YOU ASKING— HOW CAN A HUMBLE HUMAN...?! Ainz-sama, this is completely inappropriate!”
“You think so? But it’s my name.”
“Exactly! That inferior beings might say it without the slightest respect... that would make others think you are on the same level as them, crawling on the ground in filth, when the Lord is above all and everyone! No. This is unacceptable! I must strongly oppose this, Ainz-sama!”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating, Albedo? It’s not like I’m asking everyone to refer to me by my name, just—”
“Excuse me, Gwo- Ainz-dono,” Jircniv interrupted them, confused and increasingly worried about the possibilities running through his head. “Did I offend you by addressing you incorrectly?! All this time—”
“Of course not, Jircniv-dono. ‘Gwon-dono’ is more than appropriate.” Ainz reassured him. “I just think it’s too formal when we’re so close!”
“So, Ainz…dono? Ainz-sama?!” Jircniv tested, even more confused.
“Just Ainz, please. In return, I will reciprocate in kind. Jircniv!”
Jircniv.
Jircniv.
Jircniv...
The world seemed to stop.
Jircniv felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under his feet.
Hearing only his name, without any proper honorific following, sent a shiver down the emperor’s spine that he attributed purely to fear, before being overcome by panic, heightened mainly by Albedo’s murderous glare in his direction.
“J-Ji-Jircniv?! Gown-dono—no, Ainz-dono—Ainz-sama—” He no longer knew how he should address the skeleton king, his mind spinning and his body trembling. “That would be… Albedo-sama is absolutely right; that would be completely inappropriate! I referred to you by your name only, without due respect…”
His brain went into overdrive, not knowing how to get out of that situation without causing a diplomatic incident that would end with his empire annihilated. Or worse, him annihilated.
In the empire, people addressed each other by name because that was all they had. Their names. Only nobles, recognized mages, renowned healers, and the occasional notable figure had surnames, and addressing these individuals by name only, without at least a title of great respect, was to reduce them to commoners.
Something offensive.
Very offensive.
Unless you were intimate with the other person. Very intimate.
Intimate in the sense of family. Intimate in the sense of blood brothers. Intimate in the sense of deeply connected friends. Intimate in the sense of lovers.
And to call Ainz by his name? Directly? Without titles?
It was an implicit invitation to a level of relationship that, politically, was a minefield. A level of intimacy and closeness that seemed to go beyond the simple relationship they had (which was anything but simple) and take a step further. To what further, exactly, Jircniv didn't know, but he felt it was asking for trouble.
That was nothing. It was everything. It was the condemnation he saw in Albedo's murderous eyes.
'Oh,' thought Jircniv, in despair. 'This is how I die.'
Calling Ainz by his name might seem too intimate. Presumptuous. Disrespectful in the eyes of Albedo and the other guardians. The other guardians... Jircniv only knew Albedo and Demiurge, but he knew them well enough to know that they worshipped Ainz as the god he was. He could already feel the succubus's gaze on him. And she was only one of them. If the others knew — how many would there be? Seven? Nine? — Iit didn't matter, it would be a nightmare.
But if he refused, it might sound like rejection, a personal affront. If he accepted, perhaps they would think Jircniv was placing himself on the same level as them. Or worse, since everyone always used "sama" to address Ainz.
Each option was a different death sentence.
"A-Ainz... sama," he added, still unable to remove the title. "That— that would be very inappropriate. If the others heard..."
"So it's all right when it's just the two of us, right, Jircniv? After all, we're close friends and we can afford that luxury." Ainz said, as if it were obvious, as if everything was fine, ignoring the tense situation between the other two occupants of the room.
Another pang in his stomach. Heavens, at this point, Jircniv would probably start spitting blood soon.
"I-I..." He swallowed hard, refusing to look in Albedo's direction. He was pale, and his smile barely held up on his face. “If that is… your will… Ainz.”
He almost added the ‘sama,’ but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself, feeling his stomach churn at the mere mention of the name. It was like saying a forbidden word, an ancient spell that shouldn’t be used by mortals.
Unfortunately for him, Ainz seemed satisfied. Incredibly satisfied. So much so that Albedo couldn’t complain, accepting it with a frightening grace, so the emperor could only accept his miserable fate and hide the ulcer that had awakened like a hungry dragon.
Albedo tilted his head slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the emperor, assessing him as one measures the distance to someone’s neck. Jircniv smiled. Or tried to. His facial muscles were beginning to ache.
The conversation continued for some time, now discussing pleasantries about the kingdom, the empire, and other things that, honestly, Jircniv would hardly remember later. He simply agreed with everything Ainz said, nodding like a spring doll or saying "ah, yes," "I understand," and other generic words.
Only once did he really have to focus his attention on the conversation, calmer, once the tea, for some reason, soothed the pain in his stomach. He would have even forgotten everything that happened before if he hadn't had to say Ainz's name and hear his own, without any honorifics, naked and shameless, from the other's mouth.
It was difficult.
When he was finally released to return to the Empire, he almost fell to his knees in relief as he left Nazarick.
"Jircniv-sama, is everything alright?" Nimble asked him, confused by the other's dejected appearance.
"Yes, of course. Everything's great." Jircniv replied, although everything inside him said exactly the opposite. That night, the imperial palace seemed quieter than usual. At least for the winged emperor. Jircniv dismissed his servants early, claiming exhaustion—which wasn't a lie. His body was weary, but his mind… his mind was at war.
He lay down, staring at the ornate ceiling of his room.
‘Ainz.’
The name echoed in his head, as if etched into the walls of his skull.
He turned to his side.
‘Ainz.’
He turned to the other side.
‘Ainz.’
Every time he thought about it, his stomach clenched. The cold sweat returned. He could swear the shadow in the corner of the room seemed… darker than before. Ridiculous, he told himself. Pure paranoia.
Still, he had the strange feeling of being watched. Demiurge had probably heard about what had happened in the Sorcerer's Kingdom and was there (by the way, was he still in the empire or had he already left?) to torment him until Jircniv learned the "proper" respect for his master. As if it were the emperor's choice to say that bastard's name without any explanation.
Jircniv gripped the pillow and screamed in rage and agony, cursing Ainz's name in every way he could.
He had never had a friendship that cost him so much. In fact, he had never had any friends, and his first experience in that field had to be with an ultra-powerful undead who thought tormenting the poor emperor was a gesture of friendship.
Ainz was a sadist, that's what he was. And a false friend. The wretch was certainly enjoying watching him writhe. There was no other explanation.
"Ainz Ooal Gown, I hate you!" He groaned in futile protest.
*
“Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix, I hate you!” Albedo cursed, poking a poorly made rag doll of Jircniv, that… wretched and despicable human. How dare he pronounce his Lord’s name like that? How dare he think he had the right to speak his Lord’s name like that (Albedo was deliberately ignoring the fact that it was Ainz who allowed it)?
It was irritating. Very irritating. That emperor irritated her too much. Why did her Lord, the last of the Great Supremes, care so much about him as to give him such freedom?!
“Ah, Ainz-sama, if only I could do the same…” The succubus groaned, writhing in her office chair with joy, just thinking about what it would be like to be able to say Ainz’s name freely. Blushing, she even tried to practice. “A… Ainz…” One second. Two. Three. “SAMA! No, I can’t! How could I tarnish my lord’s name like this? A humble servant like me, saying Ainz-sama’s name so carelessly… I should cut out my tongue for daring to even think of sullying Ainz-sama’s dignity like this! Yes, I should offer my tongue as an apology to Ainz… SAMA!!!! And that emperor’s too! Damn him!!”
Albedo trembled, holding her face as she restrained herself from exploding with shame and pleasure. Taking a deep breath, Albedo tried once more to pronounce her Lord’s name without any honorifics, just for the pleasure of feeling the name on her tongue.
“Ainz… SAMA!” She cried, writhing with strange laughter of pleasure and madness, almost drooling with happiness. From the doorway, Demiurge observed his fellow guardian with an analytical gaze before revealing himself, calling out to the succubus.
“Albedo, what are you doing?” he questioned, surprising Albedo. The archdevil stared at her with cold reproach, something Albedo disliked. “To speak Ainz-sama’s name without due respect is unacceptable for a guardian and minister!”
“Why are you reprimanding me when you would do the same if you could? It’s not fair that a humble human can have such a privilege while we, his loyal guardians, cannot! Ah, if only Ainz-sama would allow me…”
“But he didn’t allow you, did he? Therefore, it’s our duty to address Ainz-sama with due zeal and respect. If we begin to refer to him carelessly, others will think that our Lord is not worthy of respect, and for a leader, image is everything!” Demiurge spoke, though he himself was irritated to hear the story.
If he heard that shameless emperor carelessly utter his Lord's name in public... he would find a way to end his life sooner. Without Ainz's knowledge, of course. At least in his mind.
“But why the emperor? What did he do to gain Ainz-sama's attention like that?! If only I knew, I could do the same...” Albedo gnawed her nails furiously, thousands of possibilities racing through her mind. If she knew, she would do everything in her power to gain such privileges and Ainz's attention.
If he could look at her more, if he could praise her more, if he allowed her to call him by his name in places other than a room (or it could be in the room), like in the bedroom...
Albedo screamed, writhing further, clearly ignoring Demiurge's presence, who showed no reaction to that behavior.
“Albedo, you’re seeing the situation the wrong way.” The archdevil spoke, drawing the succubus’s attention back to him. Albedo calmed down, as if he had never lost his composure, looking at his fellow guardian with a questioning and serious gaze. “Ainz-sama is one of the Great Supreme Beings, a being of immense power beyond our comprehension, whose life extends beyond the limits of any race that may exist in this world. Surely, Ainzz-sama looks at a human, so fragile and pathetic, not as an equal, but as an animal to be cared for.”
“An animal?!” Albedo’s eyes widened slightly. “Something like… a pet?! Is that it?!”
Suddenly, Albedo felt a new truth had been revealed to her, leaving her shocked. So that was what was happening? Ainz-sama looked at the emperor with the same kind of adoration that Aura looked at her strange creatures she called “pets”?
“Think about it, the emperor is human; his life compared to ours is but a blink of an eye. Furthermore, he is frail and requires care. Surely, the kind of affection Ainz-sama feels for the human race is like that of a gentle and protective caregiver. Given the short lifespan of this race, he must feel that the emperor deserves some privileges for entertaining him!”
“Still…” Albedo still wanted to fight against those privileges for the emperor, still wanted to have those privileges. If she had to act like an animal to get Ainz's attention, she would do it with the greatest pleasure. All for her Lord, Ainz.
“We can never fully comprehend the greatness of our Lord's mind, so dwelling on why Ainz-sama grants such privileges to a human would be a waste of time. Instead, we should strive to improve in what pleases Ainz-sama in us so that we may always have his attention and presence. Other thoughts are merely a distraction!”
Albedo sighed, but Demiurge was right. If she wasted time being furious with the human emperor, she risked doing something that would disappoint or, worse, enrage Ainz. No, in truth, she didn't know what would be worse; disappointing him or enraging him, either possibility would be awful.
“You're right. I've lost my focus.”
Still, Albedo would keep that puppet for some time. She needed something to vent her occasional anger on, and she would gladly do so in the figure of the emperor. Favored by Ainz or not, she still detested him. And what her Lord didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?
In any case, she needed relief, and it wasn't as if the emperor would die from just her hatred for him. Unfortunately. For now. She could hope he would die of old age. After all, what Demiurge said was true: she had millennia of existence, compared to the meager years Jircniv would live.
And when the emperor died, she would be there to comfort her beloved lord. In her mind, she laughed at the emperor's fate, who, in his bed, writhed in discomfort, cursing Ainz for not being able to sleep.