A Theory on Godhood: An Overlord Story

Chapter 64: Don'y Look in the Basement

Meanwhile, With the Elysian Council

Jircniv subtly shifted in his seat within the Elysian Council's enchanted carriage. It was not because he was physically uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, really. The seat was so plush that he kept sinking in, and the middle table afforded ample room for him to rest his arms if he chose to lean forward.

That mage woman with the dimensional-changing magic truly is talented. What school did she learn from to become so proficient?

Currently, he was seated on one side of the carriage, between his Imperial Knights as an honor guard and his remaining inner court. They, likewise, enjoyed spacious accommodations, studying the special compartment that held cooled drinks.

None of them touched anything, but it was a novelty.

On the other side sat the Elysian Council, who idly chatted amongst themselves while the carriage sped along a predetermined path. The Emperor had tried to find the coach for said carriage, but Ulbert waved off his attempt.

"Why bother with extra personnel when magic can do the job?" he'd said. "Just tell me where to go, and I'll take the carriage there. It's truly no issue."

Jircniv felt a strange pressure, like a trapped frog in his throat, before he shared his plans.

Now, he stared out the massive windows on either side of the carriage, realizing that each side was, in fact, a one-way mirror. If Jircniv had his own carriage like this, he could spy without being noticed.

His imperial knights also marveled at the high-quality velvet interior of the carriage. Since they flew, there were no unexpected bumps along the way. Everything wooden had been shined to a glossy finish, reflecting back a soft light from the windows. The entire thing was lovingly sculpted from top to bottom, utilizing materials that could bankrupt his nation.

Anytime they flew over one of the major stops along the way, the carriage would slow down considerably and circle overhead. It reminded him far too much of how a vulture might hound wounded or dead prey.

"As I am sure you know, we have phenomenal educational opportunities for the magically inclined," Jircniv began their journey. "The Imperial Academy trains our brightest for a wide array of careers, whether they be mere researchers or serve on the front lines as soldiers. No one with talent is left behind, and they explore various topics that suit their particular skill sets."

The mage woman peered out the window. "A magic college? I'll have to go and visit it in my downtime. I'd love to share notes with the professors there, even if it has been a while."

"So you have been classically trained at an institution?"

"I wouldn't really call it an... institution, but I'd say that I definitely learned on the fly! You could say my education was explosive." She snickered to herself.

Jircniv mentally made a note of that. "I'll arrange a meeting with you and Fluder for the future. I'd prefer to give him time to study the gifts you graciously offered us."

"That's fine, I'm okay with waiting."

The ice-covered warrior hummed. "Wherfor wolde ye seie, that a man werriour schulde fynde an hous there? Y medle in a powdir of frost, but Y am not a cursid witchecrafti man?"

"I beg your pardon?"

That... sounded like our language, but it was so diluted by his accent I could hardly understand? Was that a subtle jab at my comprehension?!

"He means to ask if a warrior-mage could still study there and get something out of it," the domed warrior translated. "Don't mind him, he prefers to speak archaically. Even if it means being a pain to everyone else." They turned their domed head to the elder warrior, as if to give a pointed look.