21. (Side story) Raising a Stronghold 1 - Clearing the Ground

When Emma knelt and swore service to the towering skeleton in the black robe, she really hadn't understood what she was getting into. She had figured that it would be her and Nora trailing after this villain and his armored henchwoman wherever they went, with Emma doing whatever errands a henchperson does while looking after Nora. Not only did she owe Ainz (Lord Ainz, I need to remember that. Or is it Momo- Momon-, whatever they said earlier?) for his help, but with her parents gone and the Canadian government as her enemy (and maybe the USA too, because a lot of the staff had accents from places south of the border) she really had nowhere else to go from this hellhole out in the bush.

Then everyone else knelt down with her. Looking back, that was understandable because they were all in the same situation as her, but she hadn't seen it coming at the time.

Her new lord accepted their service, promising his protection and sweeping his bony hand in a grand gesture. Like the dark lord of a fantasy film laying claim to everything that lay before him. But she immediately started to wonder. How is he going to look after 300 of us? Looking around, she realized that after drinking Ainz's (Lord Ainz's) potions, she and Norra might be the healthiest mutants in the Toolshed. 300 battered mutant fugitives, still with collars and implants blocking our powers. Wait, I broke through before, am I-Ow. Ow. Ow. Yes, I'm blocked again. Crap.

She watched, still kneeling and hugging Nora, as Lord Ainz gave quick, confident orders to the black-armored "Albedo". Albedo seems ni-No, she's a homicidal fanatic on a hair-trigger. But think I'm always going to love her for making Francis look like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum before cutting his arms off. Does that make me a homicidal fanatic now? Is that going to be a job requirement?

Emma gave Nora another squeeze, taking comfort in her sister's health and safety and hoping to comfort the girl, who wearily leaned into her. Most of her fellow mutants were doing much the same with their own friends and family. Mr. Litterbug lay stretched out on his stomach, looking even more like a giant cockroach than usual, his friend Mr. Cell leaning against his black carapace and staring at the sky. Dr. Garrison made rounds between groups, offering gentle words of comfort and leading some of those standing by themselves into one group or another. One of these isolated figures was Mr. Darby, who tersely waved the doctor off when approached.

Mr. Darby's gaze was fixed angrily on the surviving guards, scientists, and technicians of the camp, who had been rounded up by more of those big armored-zombie things like the one that had gone a round with Francis. Lord Ainz had raised them from the remnants of the guards killed earlier, black fog flowing over severed heads and torsos, condensing into dark sludge that swelled upwards until these bulky, beastly, armored warriors emerged. At his command, they ran growling towards the structures where some of those surviving guards were starting to poke their heads, and weapon muzzles, out from hiding.

As the undead knights began hacking into the buildings, she had heard shouted orders become terrified screams in seconds, punctuated by frantic gunfire and the roaring of the attackers. The great baritone voice of Ainz Ooal Gown then thundered over the growing sounds of battle and concerned murmurs of the mutants, "All who surrender shall be spared!"

Almost all of them surrendered quickly. She remembered hearing Corporal Hendrix shouting, "Fight! Fight you cowaaaAAAAAAEEEEEEEEE!" before his torso, missing an arm, flew over a low building. It trailed spiraling arcs of blood as it spun through the air before bouncing off the outer wall with a meaty thud. Emma knew she should have been horrified by that, but she was numb from all the previous horrors of the camp and the upheaval of the day.

Not to mention, it was Hendrix. A man known for saying, "Muties make great ashtrays," and demonstrating the principle whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself.

Mr. Darby's unwavering glare promised violent vengeance to his former captors. His teeth clenched and the pincers he had for hands clicked and writhed into fists of a sort, one flexible claw curling up alongside the other. However, the ring of demonic-looking zombie-knights surrounding the new captives were a far more menacing promise, quivering with barely-restrained bloodlust and aggression, and were clearly placed there as much for the protection of the prisoners as to keep them cowed.

Lord Ainz certainly has a theme going, Emma thought, watching the unnaturally animated torso of Hendrix drag itself by its remaining arm in a loop around the prisoners, just inside the ring of knights. It leered and wagged its tongue at them while crawling over bits of its own intestines left behind in previous passes. Are some of them crying? Is that Dr. Harris crying? Pity warred with dreadful satisfaction in her heart. Is this how you get villains? Someone hurts you and you just want to hurt them back? To return the pain or spread it around?

Nora interrupted Emma's internal crisis, tugging on her torn jumpsuit with one hand while pointing with her other as members of the crowd also reacted to a half-oval of darkness emerging from the ground. "It's another one," Nora murmured as it grew larger and larger, seeming to devour the light around it to fuel its growth. A pair of ebony horses in scarlet harness emerged at a trot, followed by another pair, and yet another. The carriage drawn after them seemed to have emerged from a fairy tale.

But this was not the light and airy transport of the princess and her faithful little animal companions. This was the coach of the evil queen, all black and red with touches of bone white and gold. It wasn't close enough for Emma to make out the carvings and ornamentation beyond an impression of graceful women wrapped in sheets holding bowls or pitchers, but what she could see looked beautiful. The driver and footman atop the vehicle were splendid in their livery and powdered wigs, but they also had unnaturally long arms and wore unsettling porcelain masks of the comedy/tragedy style. The driver in the comedy mask enthusiastically and repeatedly cracked a long whip above the horses, which the beasts seemed to placidly ignore while maintaining a steady pace.

As the carriage cleared the portal, it was followed by a rushing tide of things. More skeletons in outfits ranging from bits of rag to splendid armor to fine robes, though none as fine as the one worn by Lord Ainz. Demons with a variety of horns and hooves and tails and some of them even had pitchforks. Things that scuttled on many legs or squirmed or slithered on no legs at all. Things that took to the sky. Shadows that flickered from place to place, nearly unseen.

The history of mutantkind being what it was, the scattered fearful cries of, "Sentinels," when huge metal forms appeared was understandable. Possibly even inevitable. It may have been equally inevitable that there were individuals scattered among the 300 who had seen the mutant-killing robots in person and could assure the others that these were a different form of metal monstrosity. Emma had only seen pictures of Sentinels, but she remembered them as purple and blue with fake flesh-tone faces. These were bare polished metal with a single glowing light as the only feature seen inside their helmets, which featured red plumes as a bit of ornamentation. A part of her thought she should have leaped to her feet to defend her sister or to remind people that Lord Ainz would protect them, but Nora still clung to her and the healing potion from earlier did little for the fatigue of the day settling deep into her bones. Bone tired, heh. Do bones get tired? Should I ask one of the skeletons?

The following calm, if it could be called that, as the organized mob spread out into the camp gave Emma some time to process and think. This...is not a gang. This is an Army. A Legion of Doom. This is what you see when the aliens land or the Master of the World tries to...conquer… Oh. Ooooooh. Oh, I'm in the deep end now. I was expecting to end up robbing a bank or guarding a drug lab or something. Oh, I'm going to end up fighting Alpha Flight or the Avengers or being trained for his seduction-assassination squad or battle-harem…

Emma wasn't sure what it said about her situation and mental state that it was a relief when a fresh round of screaming broke the descending spiral of her thoughts. A trio of bare-chested 'men' dressed in skirts and wrappings of chains with veils of light chains concealing their lower faces were fitting the captured camp personnel with shackles and collars. This was enough to push some of them past a tipping point. A guard whose name Emma didn't remember was hitting impressively high notes in his wordless shrieking while a woman in a lab coat chanted, "No. No. No," with increasing speed and volume. The way the chain-people and other figures in the rushing crowd responded to the cries with obvious excitement certainly wasn't calming things down. The carriage driver danced on his bench, giggling and snapping his whip.

Creaking hinges should not have been particularly noticeable above the rising clamor, but there was something extra-ominous about the sound of the carriage door opening as if someone had designed a set of hinges for maximum portentous menace. The footman in the tragedy mask was on the job, bowing low and positioning a stool for the lady in white to step down onto. By herself, a woman with milk-white skin, red eyes with black "whites", and pointed ears, wearing jewels and a revealing white gown, stepping out of the creepy carriage would have brought thoughts of vampires to Emma's mind. In this crowd, after meeting Lord Ainz, she may as well have been carrying a banner saying, "Donate blood today."

The obvious vampire briefly became a pale streak of blurred motion. The rising screaming was abruptly muffled because the woman was firmly holding the two panicked prisoners by their lower faces. A surviving guard lunged forward as the pair were dragged back to the carriage, but was cowed by a bellowing zombie-knight looming over him. Then a black-armored form descended from the sky, blocking the path between the vampire with her captives and the open carriage door.

Aaaaannnd that's what Albedo looks like with her helmet off. The armored woman had removed her helmet and shield, revealing yellow eyes, lustrous black hair framing an impossibly perfect face with equally perfect skin, and that the horns on her helmet overlaid authentic horns on her head. My God, she's gorgeous. I'm incredibly jealous yet relieved that I'm not qualified for the harem. Also a little disturbed to be thinking about that when a couple of people are about to be eaten by a vampire. Albedo leaned into the conveyance to speak to someone. Emma could not discern any of the words, but the volume and tone of the conversation became increasingly loud and strident. It ended as Albedo strode away with a sneer and a pale, delicate hand in a lacy sleeve emerged from the carriage to wave the vampire away. The formerly-screaming captives were silent, looking blank and dazed as they were returned to the group. I'm not sure if they're in shock, or the vampire mind-whammied them.

At this point, a trio of skeletons called for attention. They were dressed in old and luxurious robes, though not as fine as Lord Ainz's, covering their bones. The apparent leader and spokesman (spokes-skeleton?) of the group held a twisted staff adorned with gems on its end. All of them wore necklaces of glimmering crystal orbs and had wide ribbons of colored silk spiraling about them in the air. Pinpricks of light deep in their skulls brimmed with evil intelligence. Each was shrouded in a thin, dark fog that clung to their bony bodies, giving off a menacing atmosphere.

All in all, they aren't that bad. Obviously trying to be like the boss, but nowhere near his level.

"Fortunate lesser mortals who have been blessed with the Supreme Being's protection," intoned the spokes-skeleton, "present yourselves with utmost gratitude and prepare for the journey to the place of safety that Lord Ainz has ordered prepared for you in his sublime generosity."

Emma rose to her feet, keeping a hand on her sister. "Nora, do you need to go to the bathroom?" she asked as habits ingrained into Emma by family trips surged to the front of her mind. She suppressed the memories of those trips and the feelings that came with them. "Oh, wait. Wait here, Nora," she ordered as she ran, or jogged (so tired), up to the leader with the staff, noticing the carriage pull forward into a wide arc as she did so. "Are there restroom facilities where we're going? Water? Food? A place to sleep? Something to sleep on? Any chance of a change of clothes?"

The skeleton had no facial expression to read but gave the impression of being put off his stride by Emma's questions. Rather like if a delivery driver were suddenly addressed by a floral arrangement in the back of his van. "All needs shall be provided for by the Supreme Being." An aura of anger rose about him as he found his footing. "Do you dare doubt his word? His oath upon his glorious name?" He raised his staff and thundered in outrage, "Or do you waiver in your service that you have promised in return for these blessings?"

Emma waved her hands in frantic apology. "No. No, of course not. I just thought someone should check on the little details so that…his glorious purpose and orders could be fulfilled in a manner as befits his glorious name."

"Indeed." The butt of the raised staff thumped on the ground as a flying red imp was beckoned over. Emma slowly and quietly backed away, wondering what had possessed her to do this in the first place, while instructions for provisions and other arrangements were given to the imp. Meanwhile, the vampire carriage finished pulling around to face the portal it had appeared from.

"[Twin magic: Deny Location]"

The words were perfectly clear and obviously in the skeleton's voice, but confused Emma as she couldn't tell where they were coming from. It wasn't that the sound echoed or came from multiple directions or anything like that. It was as if something in the words turned off the part of her brain that could tell where sounds were coming from, but only as far as the words themselves were concerned. Two mutants near the front glowed in response to the words. The robed skeletons moved through the crowd, the leader intoning "[Twin magic: Deny Location]" again and again, his assistants following with "[Deny Location]". mutant after mutant glowed briefly with each repetition.

Reaching the end of the queue forming behind the carriage, the lead skeleton shouted, "Ready to depart, Lady Bloodfallen."

Oh, yeah. There's a name for a vampire. Eh?

The carriage driver cracked his whip, starting the horses into a slow walk. As the procession moved into the portal, a young man with blue hair began singing, waving one hand as he made whip-crack sounds at certain points.

"Where there's a whip, (tch-kaa) there's a way. Where there's a whip, (tch-kaa) there's a way…"

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Where There's A Whip : https://youtu.be/VoAfb3f04mo

AN:

This kind of got away from me. I started off with events the day after the chapter titled, "A Warm Place." Then I decided I needed to show, not tell, about events before that. Then I felt I needed to do the same for events even earlier on. Until I walked myself all the way back to this point in the timeline.

Once I hit the point where there was no point further back to go to, I found myself adding more and more events and details to these events and there was not much for Emma to actually do beyond react and give commentary until near the end. Mostly, this chapter is a vehicle to introduce Emma to her new co-workers and give cameos to some minor Marvel characters I'll be using as supporting cast.

Emma should have more to do when they get to their next location.