Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight

The territory is located in the valley east of Yepespel.

This location isn't very good.

Rune, who had already returned to the territory of Aindora, looked at the map and thought to himself.

This is true for ordinary nobles, given their proximity to that place. According to the original story, the Great Tomb of Nazarick will appear on this land thirteen years later, and Yerantir will be the first city to suffer.

But for Rune, this position offers much more room for maneuver.

He stared at the marked place names on the map, his mind racing through various possibilities. Too close, and he risked being drawn into the war; too far, and he wouldn't be able to keep up with the changing situation. The territory of Aindora, however, was situated precisely at the intersection of danger and opportunity.

There was a knock on the door.

Rune raised his head.

Hill stood at the doorway, holding a tray, staring at Rune with expressionless eyes rich in DHA.

Hill was wearing a black and white maid outfit, probably an old dress that had been altered to fit her size by the land's maids. The skirt just covered her knees, and the white apron was tied neatly, with a simple bow at the neckline. The sleeves were a bit long for her, so they were rolled up twice, revealing a small section of her slender wrists.

There was a subtle sense of incongruity about the clothes on her.

It looks like a doll that has stolen and put on an adult's clothes.

She walked in.

The black skirt swayed gently with each step, white stockings covered her calves, and she wore the black leather shoes issued by the territory, which seemed to be a size too big and made a slight "clattering" sound when she walked.

She placed the tray on the table.

The movement was very light, without making a sound. The tray landed steadily on the table, and the black tea in the teacup didn't even ripple.

A cup of black tea sits on the tray, its color clear and its aroma wafting.

"Young Master Lu En, your black tea is ready."

Her voice was as flat as if she were reading a textbook, without any inflection. After speaking, "Hill" took a step back and stood to the side with her hands at her sides.

Rune picked up his cup and took a sip.

Then he got burned.

The scalding tea made his tongue go numb, and he almost dropped the cup.

Hill's leisurely voice finally rang out: "I forgot to mention, Young Master Rune, be careful, it's hot."

Her expression remained unchanged, and her tone was flat.

Looking at the calm-faced "Hill", Rune had a feeling that she was up to no good, but her expression didn't quite seem like it.

Rune put down his cup and stared at that expressionless little face for a long time.

There was no flaw on that face.

A perfect disguise, a perfect performance.

But Rune had a strange feeling that this seemingly quiet little girl might be secretly laughing inside.

Rune withdrew his gaze and looked back at the map.

Oh well, let her be.

Anyway, there's still a long way to go.

Chapter 31 Thirteen Years Later

Thirteen years later, Aindora territory.

The morning sun peeked out from behind the eastern ridgeline, first gilding the treetops at the highest point with gold, then slowly flowing down, over the vineyards on the hillside, and finally settling on the town at the bottom of the valley.

The town was small, yet brimming with life. The flagstone paths were smooth, and the houses on either side were mostly wooden and stone structures, their walls painted snow-white and their roofs covered with dark red terracotta tiles. Wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys, turning a pale gold in the morning light, gradually merging into the azure sky.

Early risers had already opened their doors along the street; the aroma of wheat wafted from the bakery, and the clanging of hammers echoed from the blacksmith's shop. Several children chased each other across the stone path, their cheerful laughter startling the pigeons on the rooftops.

Further afield, a small river flows through the town, spanned by a stone bridge. A waterwheel stands beside the bridge, turning slowly to channel clear river water into irrigation canals. On both banks of the river stretch vast fields of wheat, which ripple in the morning breeze.

The entire territory is like a meticulously tended garden, where every inch of land is fully utilized and every detail exudes abundance and tranquility.

And it all started with that inconspicuous mansion on the north side of the valley.

The manor sits on a flat terrace halfway up the mountain, backed by green hills and facing the town. While called a manor, it's more like a slightly larger estate.

The stone walls are unadorned, the windows are simple squares, and the porch has only two simple stone pillars. But those in the know will notice the details: the windows are fitted with highly transparent glass, the stone slabs in front of the door are paved as smooth as a mirror, and the drainage system at the corners is ingeniously designed so that even in heavy rain, water will not accumulate.

At that moment, the morning light fell directly on a window on the second floor of the mansion.

The room inside the window was a study. It wasn't large, and the furnishings were simple. Against the wall was a bookshelf, neatly stacked with various books and scrolls. On the desk were several sheets of paper covered in writing, next to an ink bottle and a pen.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting warm patches of light on the floor.

A person is sitting at a desk.

He had his back to the window, and the morning light streamed in from behind, casting a soft halo around him.

He was a young man around twenty years old. His posture appeared casual, but his back was ramrod straight, a posture etched into his very bones by years of self-discipline, a posture he would never slacken under any circumstances. His golden hair was a shade darker than it had been in his childhood, gleaming with a warm glow in the morning light.

His hair fell softly, a few strands landing on his forehead, making his face appear even more handsome. His features were the delicate features characteristic of the Eindora family, but the lines were more defined than when he was a boy. His brow bones were slightly raised, his nose was high and straight, and the contours of his jaw were clear and sharp, having lost the roundness of his youth and gained the angularity of an adult.

His skin was slightly darker than that of the nobles in the capital, a mark left by years of travel, but that healthy tan made him look even more handsome.

At this moment, those eyes were slightly lowered, focused intently on the pen in their hand.

The pen scratched across the paper, making a soft rustling sound.

A knock sounded on the door. A few very light knocks, the rhythm as usual.

Rune didn't look up, he just grunted in response.

The door was pushed open.

Hill walked in.

Thirteen years have passed, and the little girl from back then has grown into a young woman of about twenty years old. But her face is still the same as Rune remembers: long blue hair falls quietly, her brown eyes are like lukewarm tea, and her features are as delicate as a doll's.

But his expression remained the same dejected look he'd had for thirteen years. Or rather, even more dejected than thirteen years ago.

She placed the tray on the table. On it was a cup of clear, fragrant black tea. Beside it was a small dish of pastries, honey cakes, a local specialty, baked to a golden brown and emitting a sweet aroma.

"Drink."

There was no honorific title like "Lord Rune," and not even a "please" was added.

Rune looked up at her. His face was expressionless.

Her eyes were half-open, her gaze fixed on some empty space, as if she had no interest in anything in the world. The corners of her mouth were slightly downturned, with a hint of utter despair in her expression.

This has been her standard expression for thirteen years.

"Thank you," Rune said.

This time, the black tea wasn't too hot.

Hill pulled a stack of papers from his pocket and placed them on the table. The papers were neatly folded, with precisely cut edges, and were covered with dense writing.

“Data on the latest registered adventurer teams in Yerantir.” Her voice was still that lifeless tone, as if she were reading an unimportant report. “Yesterday, three new teams were registered. Two were bronze-level and one was iron-level. The rosters, member composition, and registered professions are all listed above.”

Rune took the stack of papers but didn't look at them. "Thank you for your hard work," he said.

This is how Rune determined the exact time of Ainz Ooal Gown's descent.

Of course, he could also have the seventh seat of the Black Scripture of the Theocracy, "Astrologist of a Thousand Miles," directly observe the northern plains of Yelantil, and any abrupt changes in the terrain would certainly be detected.

But Rune cannot take that risk.

The Great Tomb of Nazarick possesses a magical defense system far beyond the comprehension of this era. Any external detection, no matter how subtle, could trigger [anti-detection magic]. Once Ainz Ooal Gown becomes aware, his plans might be ruined.

In fact, the Sunlight Scripture of the Theocracy was still in contact at this time. After Ainz Ooal Gown arrived, he defeated the Sunlight Scripture first, and then registered the adventurers.

So Rune simply took the data, pretended to glance at it, and then put it down.

Just like he's been doing for the past few years.

Hill didn't respond with polite remarks like "It's not hard work." She simply stood there, waiting for Rune to finish reading, before speaking again: "Then, it's about the funds within the territory."

Rune raised his head.

Hill remained expressionless, but her eyes seemed even more vacant than before, if that could be considered an expression of emotion. "Not enough." Four words, crisp and decisive.

Rune's brow furrowed slightly: "What happened to the money we made from selling weapons?"

"it took."

Rune paused for a second: "Where did the money go?"

“It cost money everywhere.” “Hill’s” voice was flat, as if she were reading from an account book. “Expansion of farmland irrigation system, introduction of new varieties of vineyards, repair of town roads, expansion of school, daily expenses of orphanage, equipment upgrade of territory cavalry, grain reserves in warehouses, and your inexplicable books.” She paused, “and the last item cost the most.”

Rune's lips twitched slightly. He hadn't expected that the wealth accumulated by the Aindora family over a hundred years would be so short-lived. Even with the money he had generated himself, it was about to run out.

If Dad finds out, he won't rush back from the capital to beat me up.

Chapter 32 Significance

The morning light was perfect, and the entire territory unfolded beneath my feet like a meticulously painted scroll. The neat farmland and the wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys—every detail told a story of the changes that had taken place over the past thirteen years.

"When was the last time Father wrote to us?" Rune suddenly asked.

Hill tilted her head, her listless brown eyes staring into the void as if searching her memory. "Three months ago," she said, "the Earl said he was too busy with affairs in the capital to return for the time being. He also said you were doing a good job, making the territory thrive."

She paused, then added, "The Earl also specifically mentioned the territory's weapons business. He said that it's being said in the capital that Aindora Territory is now one of the kingdom's largest weapons production centers, with orders booked until next year."

Rune's lips twitched slightly.

The largest weapons production base.

Orders are booked until next year.

Every single word is correct.

But what kind of expression would appear on Father's perpetually serious face if he knew where all the gold coins earned from these orders went?

Electroplated mithril weapon.

This is one of Rune's proudest inventions in this territory.

This world has mithril, a rare magical metal with excellent magical conductivity, making it a superior material for crafting magical weapons and armor. However, mithril is extremely expensive, beyond the reach of ordinary people.