Overlord: Crimson Sovereign

The market square of E-Rantel bustled under the morning sun, the usual chatter of merchants and adventurers flowing through like a stream of noise. But amidst the activity, whispers followed a tall, cloaked man with long, dark hair tied neatly behind his back.

Rein.

The name had spread like wildfire ever since the crypt incident. An Orichalcum-ranked adventurer who accomplished in hours what other teams had failed to do in days—without injury, without backup.

To the public, he was a quiet prodigy. To others… a threat.

*************

The fire crackled softly in Lord Jirald Ritault's private study, but the chill in the room had nothing to do with temperature.

Papers were strewn across the desk—mission records, guild ranks, sealed invitations unopened. At the center of it all lay the parchment that listed Rein's name. Under it: Mithril-ranked adventurer. Solo crypt clearance. No casualties. Time taken: under three hours.

Jirald's lip curled as he sipped from his glass.

"A week. One week, and the guild hails him like some wandering demigod."

His younger cousin, Alion Ritault, stood at the far end of the chamber. His fists clenched. "We trained Beldon's team for three years. Paid for gear. Arranged noble escorts. Faked bandit raids to boost their fame. And now this… this commoner makes them irrelevant."

Jirald set his glass down with a sharp clink.

"It's not just status. It's precedent. If adventurer rank becomes meritocratic, if civilians can leap past noble-sponsored efforts… what message does that send?"

Alion growled. "Then we cut him down. Publicly."

"No." Jirald's voice was cold. "Not by ourselves. He's too careful. He won't bite direct bait. But… others share our distaste."

He held up a folded letter sealed with the golden crest of House Valierrin.

"They've extended a hand."

Alion blinked. "Lady Talessa? The Serpent of Lacehall?"

Jirald smiled thinly. "Indeed. It seems we're not the only ones who dislike being ignored."

Later – House Valierrin, Drawing Room

The mood was venom wrapped in civility.

Lady Talessa's study was filled with more than just wine and whispers. The presence of Lord Jirald Ritault solidified it: this was no mere gossip circle. It was strategy.

"…He refused my supper invitation," Talessa said, reclining with unreadable elegance. "And Almerin's. And Barent's. He even ignored Raeven's messenger. That isn't arrogance—it's insulation."

Jirald nodded once. "He avoids settings he can't control. And if he can't control them, then we can predict him."

"Exactly," Talessa said. She gestured to the scroll at the center of the table. "The Magical Exchange Banquet. On paper, it's a harmless event—one we host annually, after all. Just now… it has a purpose."

"We've spread the word," Moltarch added. "That Rein is not what he seems. That he cheats. Bribes. Uses illegal enchantments. Let the nobles arrive curious. Let them leave with suspicion."

Alion stepped forward. "And if he tries to withdraw?"

"Then we confirm the rumors," Baron Xevric said. "What kind of mage refuses a polite magical exchange? Unless he's hiding something."

"And if he attends?" Jirald asked smoothly.

Talessa's red lips curved.

"Then he walks into our trap. A subtle one. We make it social—gentle requests for demonstration. A 'friendly duel' perhaps. An inquiry about magical education. The crowd will do the rest."

"Social pressure. Unwinnable decorum," Jirald murmured. "And if he reacts badly—"

"We question his temper," said Talessa. "If he shows power, we question his source. And if he stays quiet, we brand him a fraud."

Moltarch laughed quietly. "It's a test with no right answers."

Baron Xevric added, "And behind it all, a whisper campaign suggesting he's not from this kingdom at all. That he may be connected to foreign powers. Or worse… to the undead."

"Fuel the fears born from the Wraith King incident," Talessa said. "He returned from a cursed crypt unscathed. A little fear mixed with noble pride—very combustible."

Jirald rose.

"Then it's settled. You'll host. We'll supply political coverage. And Rein will either fall in line—or fall out of favor."

They all lifted their glasses.

"To truth," Talessa said mockingly.

"To exposure," said Moltarch.

Jirald's eyes gleamed coldly.

"To a noble order… reasserted."

***************

"It begins," Lord Jirald Ritault said, setting down the sealed invitation. His eyes gleamed with restrained satisfaction.

The document bore the crest of House Valierrin and the golden ink of diplomatic courtesy—on the surface, a refined invitation to the Magical Exchange Banquet.

But beneath that surface, every word was laced with ambition, venom, and a calculated dare.

"They've set the stage," Jirald continued. "All we must do now… is ensure the Guild plays its part."

His cousin Alion smiled grimly. "Ainzach won't cooperate easily."

"No," Jirald said, voice cool. "But if we lean just enough… he'll have no choice."

**************

The heavy air inside Ainzach's office did little to soften the presence of the three nobles now seated before him. Their faces carried that polished veneer of civility—precise, charming, and full of hidden blades.

"Lord Ainzach," said the eldest, bearing House Valierrin's crest, "thank you for receiving us."

Behind them: sigils from House Ritault and House Moltarch. A trifecta of influence. Coordinated.

Ainzach nodded slowly. "Of course. How can I assist E-Rantel's finest?"

He already knew the answer.

"As you've likely heard," began the second, "House Valierrin is hosting a long-standing tradition—the Magical Exchange Banquet. An arcane-social gathering where nobles and skilled mages demonstrate spells, trade insights, and build trust."

"Naturally," the third added, "we believe Rein, your newly promoted Orichalcum adventurer, should attend. After all… he's the talk of the city. Quite an extraordinary rise."

Ainzach remained still.

"He's declined all invitations before," he said carefully. "He values privacy. And your request isn't exactly… required by Guild standards."

"True," the Ritault envoy said smoothly, "but standards… shift. Especially when someone ascends so quickly without noble backing, or academic lineage."

The Valierrin envoy leaned forward, voice friendly, but sharp. "We simply ask for a demonstration. A social formality. A show of good faith. And to assure the public that the Guild is not… overreaching."

Ainzach understood now: this wasn't a request.

It was a leash dressed in velvet.

Refuse, and they'd whisper of corruption. That Rein was a fraud. That Ainzach promoted him untested.

Accept—and they'd try to control Rein. Or destroy his reputation in front of a crowd of nobles.

He narrowed his eyes. "And if I say he won't attend?"

"Then," came the reply, polite but final, "alliances may be… reviewed. Merchant Guild trust. Arcane Ministry funding. Our support of your license charter."

Pressure. All from "friendly hands."

Ainzach exhaled through his nose.

"Very well. I'll inform him. But remember… you requested this."

*************

E-Rantel – Upper Market District

"They say the nobles are finally putting that Rein fellow in his place."

The merchant's voice was low, but filled with relish, as he weighed silver ingots on his scales. His client, a cloth trader from the east, leaned closer, whispering as if the city guard might overhear.

"What did he do?"

"Refused every noble banquet, every ball. Thinks he's too good to sit beside a baron, let alone a viscount," the merchant scoffed. "Now, House Valierrin's organizing a 'Magical Exchange.' Public, but private. Invitation-only. They say he has to show up, or risk offending half the royal court."

"Sounds political."

"Oh, it is. And bloody overdue. He just showed up out of nowhere, blasted his way into Orichalcum, and never even thanked the Guild sponsors or lords who made that path possible."

The cloth trader frowned. "But didn't he clear that undead crypt alone?"

The merchant shrugged. "That's what they say. But others whisper he cheated. Or bribed someone in the Guild. Tier Five magic without chant? Sounds like nonsense to me."

Lower Quarter – Rusty Barrel Tavern

"He's a fake."

The gruff man slammed his mug down, drawing glances from nearby tables. His voice was too loud, but no one stopped him. He was a former adventurer, and those like him always drew attention.

"No one's that strong and that silent. If someone could use that kind of power, they'd be leading the royal battlemages—or serving the King directly."

Another patron leaned in. "You think it's some noble bastard using an alias?"

"Or a spy," the old adventurer hissed. "The Slane Theocracy's got monsters that look human. Maybe he's one of them."

"Don't joke about that," someone muttered, crossing themselves.

"I heard he refused House Barent's direct invitation," a young rogue added. "They said he gave off a 'killing intent' so thick even trained knights froze."

Another chuckled. "So he's either a demon… or the most dangerous commoner in Re-Estize."

The room went quiet.

Even joking about the Theocracy, demons, or powerful unregistered mages was risky. But now Rein's name had become all three.

Noble District – House Talessa Valierrin

Talessa read the courier's note with a small, satisfied smile. Reports from their planted whisperers had arrived.

"Merchant Guild now has questions. The Arcane Academy is requesting Guild records on Rein's rank ascension. The commoners suspect cheating. The adventurers suspect sorcery. And even the nobles think he's snubbing them out of arrogance."

She folded the parchment neatly.

"Perfect."

Her steward stepped forward. "And what of the banquet?"

"The nobles are talking. The moment he walks in, everyone will watch his every breath. He'll be forced to perform. And if he doesn't…?"

"Suspicion becomes certainty."

Talessa's eyes glinted.

"By the time the night ends, Rein will either be unmasked… or too famous to be ignored. Either way, he becomes a piece on our board."

Elsewhere – Whispered Among Adventurers

"I heard he was once a Death Knight that turned human."

"Nah, they say he's actually a vampire pretending to be a mage."

"Someone told me he cast a spell without even blinking. The golem just melted. No chant, no staff, no nothing."

"Then why hide? If he's that powerful, why not join the Magic Ministry?"

"Because he's lying. The higher the power, the bigger the secret."

Back at Rein's Residence

Narberal stood at the window, golden eyes narrowed as she watched a passing messenger discreetly hand over a scroll to a cloaked noble near the alley.

"More spies," she said flatly.

Ainz, still seated at the desk, let out a slow breath.

"I expected rumors. But not this fast. Or this coordinated."

He skimmed one of the intercepted parchments. Exaggerations. Lies. Carefully aimed.

"Cheating. Bribery. Identity fraud. Demon in disguise. Born of forbidden magic."

He frowned.

If I were still Suzuki Satoru, I'd be sweating bullets right now. But Ainz Ooal Gown… can't afford to.

He leaned back in the chair, gaze cold.

"They want a mask to crack. But they don't realize—mine doesn't crack. It shatters them."