Chapter 58: Sebas Pays a Visit
Re-Estize Kingdom. Royal capital. Lucian's private residence.
Afternoon light cut through the study window at an angle, drawing a long bright band across the floorboards.
Lucian sat at his desk, pen suspended in midair, ink spreading in a small blot across the paper. He didn't move. His gaze rested on the spreading ink while his thoughts had long since drifted out of the room.
The True Dragon King armor fragment...
In theory, the fragment had been placed far enough from the battle site. In the original story, even if the Platinum Dragon Lord arrived at the site first, he was one dragon alone — difficult for him to cover enough ground to find it.
For Nazarick, with their many NPCs, a small distance shouldn't be enough to prevent them from following the "clue."
But anything can have an unexpected outcome.
Lucian set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. The last sliver of sunlight outside the window was disappearing, dyeing the clouds on the horizon grey-purple.
He had no way to confirm whether Nazarick had found the "clue."
But there was someone who could tell him.
The sun finished setting.
The light in the study dimmed sharply. Lucian sat quietly in the shadow.
Then came a knock at the door.
"Lord Lucian." "Siel's" voice came from outside, slightly faster than usual. "Mr. Sebas has come to call."
The corners of Lucian's mouth curved faintly.
Just as expected.
Sebas had come to the capital to gather intelligence, but he was also one of Lucian's own intelligence sources.
As expected, this visit should be to ask about the dragon.
Kehehehehehehe. The framing had worked.
Lucian stood, straightened his collar, and walked toward the door — the way an actor makes a final adjustment before stepping onstage.
"Siel" stood in the corridor, her blue ponytail falling at her shoulder, those amber-brown eyes half-open with their usual languid quality.
He walked the corridor to the mansion's main entrance.
Sebas stood at the door.
He was dressed in a black tailcoat, his salt-and-pepper hair combed without a strand out of place, his back perfectly straight.
"Mr. Sebas." Lucian gave a slight bow, his tone carrying exactly the right degree of apology. "I've kept you waiting."
"Not at all, Mr. Lucian." Sebas inclined his head slightly, his voice steady and warm. "I arrived unannounced — the interruption is mine to apologize for."
Lucian waved it off, a genuine smile on his face, and invited Sebas into the sitting room.
"Please, come in."
As he spoke, he glanced toward "Siel" at his side, his tone casual, as though giving instructions about something entirely trivial.
"Siel — when Mr. Sebas comes from now on, there's no need to announce him. Just show him straight in."
"Siel's" brow shifted slightly. A trace of hesitation passed across that expressionless face.
"But..."
"Don't worry about it." Lucian raised a hand to stop her, his tone warm but leaving no room for discussion. "Mr. Sebas and I got along from the very start. We can do without the formalities."
"Siel" was quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"Yes."
Lucian turned back to Sebas. The old man seemed to be about to say something — probably to decline this "no announcement necessary" privilege. Lucian didn't give him the opening.
"Mr. Sebas." His tone was natural and easy, the warmth of someone chatting with an old friend. "What brings you this evening?"
Sebas looked at him. Those pale grey eyes carried an unusual depth.
"To be honest with you."
The old man's voice came at an unhurried pace, like a river running steady and smooth.
"I have just heard that Mr. Lucian is considered the foremost fighter among the nobles of the Kingdom — that his abilities are comparable to Gazef Stronoff, the Kingdom's Warrior Captain."
Lucian paused for a beat.
This wasn't the right script at all. Wasn't he supposed to ask about the dragon?
Did something go wrong? Was the fragment not found? Did the Platinum Dragon Lord pick it up first?
But those thoughts lasted only an instant. Nothing showed on his face.
"That's just nobles talking nonsense." Lucian waved a hand, the right degree of modesty on his face, his smile warm and easy. "My abilities don't come anywhere near the Warrior Captain."
He said it with such conviction that he nearly believed it himself.
"Mr. Lucian is being modest." Sebas's voice remained steady, but something earnest had entered those pale grey eyes. "I've heard that Mr. Lucian possesses a powerful Martial Art — one he once used to kill an orc fighter of considerable strength."
Sebas stepped half a pace forward. That deeply lined face was gentle, but a faint urgency had entered his voice, barely detectable. "I would like to witness Mr. Lucian's Martial Art for myself."
"So... Mr. Sebas is interested in Martial Arts?"
Lucian's tone stayed warm and bright, like an enthusiastic collector happy to share. "I've happened to gather some information on Martial Arts over the years — would that be of use to Mr. Sebas?"
He had collected this material years ago while exploring what possibilities Martial Arts might hold — it hadn't yielded much. Today, it served as a useful probe.
"If you're willing, I'd be genuinely grateful."
Lucian looked at Sebas.
The old man stood where he was, straight as a pine, hands hanging naturally at his sides. But Lucian could feel a faint urgency in him.
Ainz had sent Sebas to ask about Martial Arts.
That was the assessment Lucian formed.
But immediately afterward, a larger question surfaced.
Why would Ainz be thinking about Martial Arts rather than the dragon?
The undead ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick — everything he did should have its own logic. And yet right now, Lucian found himself unable to follow that logic.
Surely Ainz didn't actually believe Martial Arts had defeated Shalltear?
Lucian stood and walked to the bookshelf, pulling several neatly bound notebooks from the third shelf.
These were Martial Arts records gathered over the past several years — some purchased from the Adventurers Guild, some transcribed from soldiers' verbal accounts.
The ones kept in this house were not particularly sensitive material.
So Lucian handed them over without hesitation.
Though if the framing hadn't worked, the backup plan would need to be activated.
As he extended the notebooks, he noticed that Sebas's fingers tightened slightly the moment they made contact with the cover.
But Sebas, having taken the notebooks, didn't leave.
The old man stood where he was, fingers gently running over the cover, as though weighing something.
Then he spoke.
"Mr. Lucian." Sebas's tone was gentle, but something like quiet anticipation had entered those pale grey eyes. "Martial Arts are difficult to truly appreciate from written records alone."
Lucian looked at him without responding.
"A practical exercise, perhaps, would give one a much better sense of the real nature of the technique."
Sebas raised his head and met Lucian's gaze. A faint smile had settled on that deeply lined face, like the warmth of winter sun on a cold morning.
"I would humbly ask whether Mr. Lucian might be willing to spare with me."
The night wind came through the window. The sitting room was quiet for a moment.
Lucian could hear his own heartbeat.
Are you serious.
Me.
Spar with Sebas.
****
40+advance chapters at patreon.com/Eatinpieces