Overlord Volume 9 Prologue
He was confident that he had won his counterparts over using his charisma, that they were putty in his hands. There should have been no problems.
That was the specialty of the noble class. Especially so for the Emperor, who had been thoroughly educated in these ways from his youth, to the point where none would be able to see through his facade. To his guests, he should have appeared to be nothing more than a gentle and innocent young man.
The most important thing was to understand the thoughts of one's opponent and to lower their defenses. It would be difficult to glean information from someone who was filled with suspicion.
However, by building trust and goodwill, one could slowly peel away the layers of guardedness surrounding them, until they were laid bare before oneself. Of course, such deceptions would be hidden behind the gentlemanly smile which said “we warmly welcome you.”
And the gentleman Jircniv's opponents were a pair of dark elves, who had barged into the Imperial city on the back of a dragon. This was the first time he had met individuals whose appearances belied their incredible power.
The earthquake triggered by the staff-wielding girl had claimed 117 lives. Of these, 40 had been his royal guards, 60 had been imperial knights, 8 had been arcane magic casters, 8 more had been divine magic casters, and one more — a truly jaw-dropping list of casualties.
As for the knights, being able to stand guard in the imperial city meant that they were among the most elite warriors in the empire, but at a stretch, one could say that they were not major losses. If they were to be ranked like adventurers, one might classify them as silver-rank. Due to the extensive systems in place for the education and training of new knights, these numbers could be easily replenished in the future.
Next were the royal guards, the elites among the elites. It was regrettable that more than half of these men, each the equivalent of a gold-class adventurer, had been slain at once. They were equipped with weapons and armor that had been forged and enchanted by the many magic casters of the Empire, a fortune that was worth more than their weight in gold.
And then, there was the most painful loss —the last man— one of the strongest knights in the Empire, "The Immovable" Nazami Enec.
Though he claimed he was just imitating a fighting style he'd seen before, that twin-shield stance of his had been enough for him to be recognized as one of the Empire's four strongest knights.
In this world, where the fighting prowess of one mighty warrior was more valuable than that of several hundred conscripts, the passing of such a warrior could not be simply described as one man’s death. In the worst case, it might even be seen as a weakening of the entire country's national power.
In truth, Jircniv should have immediately retreated to safety, but such an act would not befit a young conqueror like himself. Perhaps this was merely a show of strength or a threat, but all he could do was meet it with a welcoming smile.
Still, he could not let himself be led by the nose. Jircniv's eyes intently studied the two
Jircniv had a nose for intrigue; he was able to determine if a noble under his gaze would be loyal to him, or secretly scheme against him. He sharpened his senses to the utmost, trying to glean the vital scraps of information from the two in front of him.
From their attire...
From the way they carried themselves...
The emissaries of Ainz Ooal Gown, the two dark elf children, were exceedingly attractive. He could not help but think that they when they grew up, they would break the hearts of many a member of the opposite sex.
A country's emissaries —their ambassadors— required certain qualities, one of which was their personal appearance. Making a poor impression due to one's undignified deportment would be a detriment to one's country.
