"Okay," Leah said. "Before we go through, I'd like everyone to remember that I did say it was just a small upgrade."
"You said it was a tiny tweak," Lyla said, without looking up from her notebook.
"It was supposed to be a tiny tweak."
"He's a dragon," Lyla said.
"I'm aware he's a dragon."
"He's three times the size of the barn."
"I'm also aware of that."
"He ate the barn."
"He did not eat the barn," Blanc said, from the middle of the field. "He sneezed on it a little."
Leah put her face in both hands.
On the terrace above the lawn, the household of Blanc Manor had assembled in a neat row to watch. Mirelle stood at the center, hands folded, wearing the expression of a woman who has spent a week measuring doorways. Odette held a wicker basket. Pim held a cream puff, and was holding it with great innocence. Behind them, thirty-one zombies had arranged themselves in three tidy rows, and the one at the front was holding up a small hand-lettered sign: GOOD LUCK BURGUNDY. It had taken all week, and it was spelled correctly. Rask and Tal flanked the sign like two skeletal honor guards.
"My lady," Mirelle called.
"Yes, Mirelle?"
"I have had the front doors widened."
"Again?"
"Twice. It is becoming a recurring expense."
"He's not going through the front doors, he's going through the gateway!"
"I am planning ahead, my lady."
"Do you guys want to come?"
"We are not permitted," said Rask, in a voice of deep regret. "The Baron's guard must hold the manor."
"Maybe next time, then."
"It would be our honor," said Tal.
"If any harm should come to him," said Mirelle, pleasantly, "I wish it noted that I have a very long memory."
"Nothing's going to happen!"
"And a very short fuse."
"Mirelle!"
"I wish you a pleasant visit, my lady," said Mirelle, and dipped her head.
It was a bright, windy afternoon on the back lawn of Blanc Manor, the wide one where the grass sometimes moved on its own, and Blanc stood in the middle of it with her hands on her hips and a very large grin on her face, looking up. And up. And up.
Burgundy stood before her.
It was difficult to say exactly what he was, now. A week ago he had been a three skeletal hound, about the size of a pony, with a wagging tail and a taste for chewing on fence posts. He was still those things, in a general way. But Leah's second mob fusion test, which she had insisted on calling a "harmless little synthesis experiment," had added a number of things that nobody had planned for.
He had wings now: great, tattered, bone-ribbed wings that stretched out on either side like the sails of a ruined ship. He had a long, spined tail, which wagged enthusiastically. He had a ribcage like the vault of a cathedral, and legs like pillars, and talons the length of Blanc's forearm. He stood perhaps six meters at the shoulder, and he had three heads.
They swung toward her all at once, three long, narrow skulls, each with a pair of glowing pale-blue eye sockets, each wearing the same expression of overjoyed, slobbering delight. Which was impressive, given that none of them had any lips, tongues, or saliva.
"Bun!" Blanc called, pointing to the left. "Chomp! And... Nap?"
The middle head, Nap, was asleep.
"He's always asleep," Blanc said fondly. "He's the only one with any sense."
"Is he safe?" Lyla asked.
"He's the safest dragon in the world!" Blanc said. "Look! Sit!"
Burgundy sat. The ground trembled. A flock of birds exploded out of the manor's dead elms in alarm.
"Good boy!" Blanc cheered, and ran forward, leaping at the dragon's front leg. He lowered his right head to meet her, and she wrapped both arms around the great bone snout and squeezed. "Good boy, good boy, good boy! Oh, you're so big now! You're the best, best, best boy!"
All three tails, of which there was only one, wagged.
"He's going to be fine," Blanc said. "He just needs to learn how big he is."
"That," Lyla said, "is exactly what worries me."
"I promised Mare," Blanc said. She turned back, lifting her chin. "I pinky swore. I told him that next time I'd bring Burgundy to Nazarick. And I always keep my promises."
Leah lowered her hands.
"You're right," she said slowly. "You did."
"So can we go?"
"Blanc..."
"Please? Please? He's been practicing his sit for days!"
Leah looked at the dragon. The dragon, with all three heads, looked back at her, and the left one let out a small, hopeful whine. It echoed across the field like a foghorn.
"Fine," Leah said. "But I'm coming with you. And if anything breaks, we are blaming the mob fusion."
"It was your mob fusion!"
"That is exactly what I mean!"
The first problem was the gateway.
Leah had opened it in the middle of the field, a swirling disc of violet light, wide enough to drive a carriage through. She had checked the measurements three times. She had stood beside it with a tape measure, muttering to herself.
It was not quite wide enough.
"I think if he ducks," Blanc offered.
"He's six meters tall."
"He could squish."
"He's a skeleton, Blanc. It's not a matter of squishing."
"Maybe if he sucked in his ribs?"
"He doesn't have lungs!"
They ended up widening it. It took twenty minutes, a great deal of concentration, and a series of increasingly colorful comments from Leah about the engineering limits of interdimensional gateways. By the end of it the gate was the size of a small castle door, and Burgundy, who had watched the whole affair with the polite, patient interest of a puppy at a veterinarian's, got to his feet and padded forward.
Blanc went through first, to show him it was safe.
Leah followed.
Burgundy squeezed through last, with a long, groaning scrape of bone against light, and a noise that was either "arf" or a very small avalanche.
Nazarick's Great Hall had been built to impress.
It was a vast, echoing chamber of polished black stone, its ceiling lost in the shadows above, its walls lined with banners and high, narrow windows that glowed with soft light. In the center stood the long dining table, with its white cloth and its silver candelabra. At the far end rose the dais and the great throne.
It had never, in its history, been asked to accommodate a three-headed skeletal dragon.
Burgundy stepped out of the gateway and stopped.
He stood very still. All three heads turned slowly, taking in the pillars, the banners, the high carved ceiling. He had never seen anything like it. The left head let out a small, awed whimper, and the right one lowered itself, very carefully, as if it were afraid of knocking something over.
"It's so shiny," Blanc whispered, delighted.
"Don't touch anything," Leah whispered back.
"I'm not touching anything! I'm looking!"
"You're looking with your hands."
"Burgundy's looking with his heads!"
A throat cleared.
Both of them turned. At the far end of the hall, where the polished floor met the base of the dais, stood a silver-haired butler with a silver tray in his hands. Sebas Tian regarded the dragon without any visible change in expression, though one eyebrow had risen, very slightly, by perhaps a millimeter.
"Welcome to Nazarick," he said.
"Hello, Sebas!" Blanc said. "This is Burgundy!"
"So I see."
"He's had an upgrade."
"I can tell," said Sebas. He set down the tray, adjusted his cuffs, and made a very small bow to the dragon. "Welcome, Burgundy. I trust you had a pleasant journey."
Burgundy's left head tilted. The middle head woke up, blinked, and yawned, a long, rattling creak of jaws. The right head, which was the serious one, dipped in a stiff, solemn nod.
"They like you!" Blanc whispered.
"I am relieved," said Sebas.
"Sebas?" came a voice from the shadows. "Is that them?"
Aura Bella Fiora came running into the hall, and skidded to a stop about ten paces from the dragon.
For a moment, nobody said anything at all.
"Um," Aura said.
"Hi, Aura!" Blanc said.
"That's..." Aura pointed. She looked up. And up. She was a small girl, and he was a very large dragon, and there seemed to be a great deal of distance between her pointing finger and the top of his furthest skull. "That's Burgundy?"
"Yes!"
"That's Burgundy."
"He had an upgrade!"
"You said he was a dog."
"He is a dog," Blanc said stoutly. "He's just a bigger dog."
"You said he had three heads."
"He still has three heads!"
"You didn't say he had wings!"
"I didn't know he'd have wings," Blanc admitted.
Aura stared at the dragon for another long moment. Then, quite slowly, a smile spread across her face, and she let out a delighted, breathless squeal.
"That's the coolest thing I've ever seen!"
"Right?!" Blanc shouted.
"Can I ride him?"
"Aura," came a quiet voice from behind her. "P-please be polite."
Mare had followed her in, clutching his staff to his chest, his big blue-green eyes shining. He stood half-hidden behind Aura's shoulder, peering at the dragon with the wide, hopeful look of a boy who had been told a story and was only now realizing it was true.
"Hi, Mare," Blanc said, and crouched down. "I told you I'd come back."
"Y-you did," Mare whispered. "You pinky swore."
"I always keep my pinky swears."
Mare looked at the dragon. The dragon looked at Mare. The left head lowered itself, very slowly, until its great, hollow snout hung just a few inches from the boy's face.
Mare did not flinch. He raised one small hand, and, very carefully, touched the bone.
"He's warm," he said, in a tiny voice.
"He runs hot," Blanc said, beaming.
"He's... he's beautiful."
All three heads let out a long, soft, rumbling sigh.
"This," Demiurge said, "is remarkable."
He had arrived shortly after Aura, bearing a leather folder and a pair of spectacles that glinted in the light. He had walked all the way around the dragon, twice, humming softly under his breath, and was now standing at the foot of its left front leg, scribbling in a notebook.
"The skeletal structure is fully integrated," he murmured. "Not simply a hybrid, but a genuine biological... or perhaps necrological... synthesis. The wing articulation alone is extraordinary. And look at the spinal ridge! Each of those vertebrae has been reinforced."
"Don't poke him," Leah said.
"I am merely observing."
"You're poking him."
"Observing with my finger," Demiurge said. He glanced up at her. "Might I inquire as to the process?"
"No," said Leah.
"Perhaps in writing?"
"No."
"A short outline?"
"Demiurge," Leah said, "if you ask me one more question about the mob fusion, I will tell Lyla you were trying to reverse-engineer it."
"A reasonable position," Demiurge said, and closed the notebook with a faint, regretful click.
"I never said you couldn't take notes."
"I am only taking notes on his general appearance."
"On his necrological synthesis."
"On his general appearance," Demiurge repeated, with great dignity.
"Ah," said a deep, cheerful voice. "There you are."
Ainz stepped out from behind a pillar.
He was not wearing the Momon armor today. He wore his usual dark robes, with the rings glittering on his bony fingers, and he walked into the hall with the unhurried tread of a man who had just finished a very long day of paperwork. At his shoulder came Albedo, her white gown trailing, golden eyes narrowed slightly at the vast shape in the center of the room.
"Lord Ainz," she said carefully. "That is the dragon."
"So I understand."
"It is very large."
"Yes."
"It is also a skeleton."
"Yes," said Ainz, and paused. "I find I have some sympathy for that."
He reached the dragon and stood looking up at it for a moment. He did not seem afraid. If anything, he looked thoughtful.
"Burgundy," he said.
All three heads came around at once. Their eyes were pale, glowing blue, the color of cold fire. Ainz stood in front of them, a small, black-robed skeleton, and they considered him with great, solemn attention.
Then, all together, they bowed.
It was a slow, deep, sweeping movement, wing tips dragging along the floor and the great skulls lowered until they touched the stone. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath.
"...Oh," said Ainz, startled.
"He's never done that to me!" Blanc yelped.
"Perhaps it is an instinct of the undead," said Demiurge, writing furiously. "A natural deference to a superior..."
"He's my dragon!"
"He is still showing respect," Albedo said, sounding oddly pleased. "As is proper."
"Burgundy!" Blanc ran forward, hands on her hips. "Hey! Hey! I'm your owner! You're supposed to bow to me!"
The right head turned slowly, and looked at her. Then it looked at Ainz. Then, very deliberately, it looked back at Blanc, and tilted sideways in an expression of absolute, solemn confusion.
"I do not wish to cause any difficulty," Ainz said hastily. "Burgundy. Your master is Blanc."
"Your master is Blanc," Albedo agreed.
"He is quite correct," said Sebas.
"Obviously," said Demiurge, not looking up.
The three heads swung toward Blanc. For a moment they hung there, uncertain. Then the left one let out a great, sloppy, delighted whine, and all three lunged forward at once, wrapping around her in an enormous, trembling bone hug. Blanc shrieked with laughter and disappeared entirely into a tangle of skulls.
"I forgive you!" she shouted. "I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you!"
"That was extremely undignified," Albedo murmured.
"Yes," said Ainz. He was smiling, in the soft, lopsided way that only a skeleton can. "It was."
"I'd like to show him the Sixth Floor," Aura said.
They had gathered at the dining table, because Sebas had insisted. Ainz had taken his place at the head, with Leah at his right hand and Albedo at his left. Aura and Mare sat across from Blanc, who had somehow gotten a bowl of ice cream and was trying to feed it, a spoonful at a time, to the dragon, who lay curled around the far end of the hall like an enormous, shaggy, bone-white cat.
"The Sixth Floor," Ainz repeated.
"It's much bigger than the hall," Aura said eagerly. "There's the arena, and the forest, and Fen can show him around."
"Fen," said Blanc. "Who's Fen?"
"Fenrir. My wolf. He's the best."
"Is he a big dog?"
"He's a bit smaller than Burgundy."
"That's still big!"
"Do you think they'll get along?" Mare asked timidly.
Blanc turned to him, and her face softened. She reached across the table and took his hand.
"Burgundy gets along with everyone," she said. "Even Nap."
"Is Nap the sleepy one?"
"He's the best."
"I think I'd like Nap," Mare said, in a tiny voice, and Blanc grinned at him.
Ainz was quiet for a moment. He looked at the two children, at the dragon, at the long table and the flickering candles.
"Very well," he said. "You may take him to the Sixth Floor."
"Yes!" Aura cheered.
"On one condition."
"Yes, Lord Ainz?"
"Albedo accompanies you."
Albedo, who had been sipping her tea, looked up.
"Lord Ainz?"
"If anything is destroyed," Ainz said gravely, "I would prefer to have a witness."
"I shall observe with the utmost care," Albedo said, and rose.
The Sixth Floor of Nazarick was a vast, open sky.
It was not a real sky, of course. It was an enormous illusion stretched across the top of a gigantic cavern, painted with endless blue and drifting clouds, and it lit the whole expanse of the forest below with warm, golden light. Great trees rose from the grass, taller than any cathedral. In the distance, a ring of colossal stone seats surrounded a wide, sandy arena.
Burgundy came through the great doors and stood at the top of the stairs, and all three heads lifted at once.
He had never seen so much sky.
For a long moment he did not move. Then the left head, Bun, let out a high, delighted bark that rolled across the cavern like a clap of thunder. The right head, Chomp, answered with a lower, rumbling whoop. Even Nap, in the middle, opened one pale-blue eye.
"Go!" Blanc shouted. "Go on! Go play!"
Burgundy launched himself down the stairs.
It was less a run than a controlled avalanche. The ground shook, the trees swayed, and a startled flock of birds, genuine ones, living ones, scattered into the air. He tore across the grass in great, bounding leaps, wings half-spread, tail lashing, and hurled himself, with total joy, at the nearest tree.
"Burgundy!" Blanc cried.
The tree held. Barely.
"That's a sixty-meter oak," said Aura, awed.
"It's a good oak," Mare said.
"He's not even trying!"
"Fen!" Aura shouted. "Fen, come here! Come meet Burgundy!"
A great grey shape detached itself from the shadows of the trees, a vast, shaggy wolf with silver eyes and a mane like a thundercloud. Fenrir trotted into the clearing, head high, and stopped about thirty paces from the dragon. He studied Burgundy for a very long moment. His ears went back.
"He's nervous," Mare whispered.
"He is not nervous," said Aura. "He's... assessing."
Fenrir took a slow step forward. Then another. Burgundy, who had been tugging contentedly at a branch with his left head, swung around, spotted the wolf, and went rigid. All three heads came up together, ears pricked, eyes bright.
For a moment the two great beasts stood facing each other across the grass.
Then Burgundy did something that nobody had anticipated. He dropped to the ground, forelegs stretched flat, tail wagging furiously, his chest pressed against the earth in the universal canine posture of let's play.
Fenrir tilted his head.
"Go on!" Blanc shouted. "He wants to be friends!"
Fenrir took one more careful step. Burgundy lunged.
It was less a fight than a collision of two very large, very friendly animals, a great tumbling ball of fur and bone that rolled across the grass, knocking down saplings and flattening shrubs. Aura shrieked with laughter. Mare clapped his hands. Somewhere in the heap, a wolf yelped and a dragon barked and the whole forest seemed to shudder.
"They're friends!" Blanc yelled. "They're friends!"
"This is incredible," Aura panted, wiping her eyes. "Oh, this is the best day ever!"
"Lord Ainz will be most displeased with the damage," Albedo observed, from a safe distance, though a faint smile had begun to creep across her face.
"Lord Ainz will be fine," said Blanc.
"I dislike the way you said that."
"It's going to be fine," Blanc said, cheerfully, and waved. "Burgundy! Fetch!"
She picked up a stick, which was the size of a small tree, and hurled it with all her strength. It sailed nearly four meters, landed in the grass, and bounced.
Burgundy stared at it.
All three heads swiveled to follow it, and then, all together, he threw himself forward, with a roar of joy that sent the birds out of the trees again, and snatched the stick in his left jaw. The middle head woke up long enough to say "Hm," and went back to sleep. The right head stared at the left head, outraged, and bit the other end.
There was a loud crack.
"That's the third stick," said Mare faintly.
"We'll find more," said Blanc.
"Blanc?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think he knows?"
"Knows what?"
"That he's big," Mare said. "Do you think he knows how big he is?"
Blanc watched the dragon, who was now engaged in a vigorous tug-of-war with himself and a wolf, and she was quiet for a moment.
"I think he knows," she said. "I think he's just really good at being gentle."
Something rustled in the long grass behind them.
"Oh," said Mare. "Hello, Hamsuke."
A very large, very round hamster had waddled out from under a tree. She was about the size of a draft horse, with silvery fur, twitching whiskers, and eyes like two polished black beads, and she walked with the stiff, careful dignity of someone who had decided in advance not to be startled by anything.
She stopped. She looked up. And up.
"Lady Aura," she said, in a small, formal voice. "Lord Mare. I heard a noise."
"That's Burgundy!" said Aura.
"I see." Hamsuke's nose twitched. "Is he... staying?"
"Just for the day."
"That is a relief." She drew herself up to her full height, which was not very much. "I am the Sage King of the Forest," she added, mostly to herself.
"Hi!" said Blanc. "I'm Blanc! You're so soft!"
"I am a fearsome beast," said Hamsuke.
"You're a really big hamster."
"I am an appropriately sized hamster."
Burgundy had gone completely still. All three heads were staring at her. Then the left one, Bun, very slowly and very gently, lowered a stick the size of a young tree onto the grass in front of her, and sat back.
"It's a present," Blanc whispered.
Hamsuke regarded the stick. Then she regarded the dragon. Then, with enormous solemnity, she picked up one end of it in both paws and began to nibble.
The right head, Chomp, gave a long, approving nod.
"I believe," said Hamsuke, between nibbles, "that I like him."
By the time the sun began to set, she had climbed, with some effort and a good deal of dignity, onto the great flat skull of the sleeping middle head. She turned around three times, tucked her paws under her chin, and was asleep in less than a minute. Nap did not stir.
"She's never done that with anybody," said Aura, wonderingly.
"He's good at being slept on," said Blanc.
"Is that a skill?"
"It's his best one."
The tea was served at sundown.
They had returned to the Great Hall, exhausted and filthy and grinning, and Sebas had arranged a small tea table beside the dragon, who had flopped down in the middle of the floor and fallen instantly into a heavy, rumbling sleep. Mare was curled against Burgundy's side, using a folded wing as a pillow. He had fallen asleep as well, one hand still resting on the bone.
Across the hall, Albedo sat at a small side table, writing in a notebook with a very sharp pencil. Sebas had stopped beside her with a fresh pot of tea.
"May I ask what you are writing, Lady Albedo?"
"A protocol," said Albedo.
"For?"
"Oversized guests."
"Ah."
"There are three tables so far. Item one: a permanent alcove in the east wall of the Great Hall, with a cushion."
"It has been prepared," said Sebas.
"Item two: all corridors to be inspected for clearance."
"I will see to it."
"Item three: any hamster found asleep on a guest is not to be disturbed."
"That is a very specific item."
"I am a very thorough woman," said Albedo, and turned the page.
Blanc sat nearby, nursing a cup of tea she was too tired to drink.
"Hey," said a quiet voice.
She looked up. Ainz had taken a seat across from her. He held his own cup, as he always did, and he set it down without drinking.
"Hey, Ainz."
"May I join you?"
"Sure."
For a long time he said nothing. The two of them sat together in the soft light, listening to the slow, steady rumble of three sleeping skulls.
"I wished to thank you," Ainz said at last. "For bringing him."
"I promised."
"I am aware. But that is not what I meant." He turned the cup slowly in his hands. "I have been thinking about what it means to be... different. Very different. To be a thing that no one expected, in a place that was not built for it."
Blanc looked at him.
"I thought, when I first awakened here," Ainz said, "that I was alone in that. That I was the only one. And I find... that I was mistaken."
"You're not alone," Blanc said.
"No."
"Neither is he."
"No," Ainz said, and glanced at the great sleeping shape. "I do not believe he is."
"Do you think he's scared?" Blanc asked, very quietly. "That he's different? That he's not a puppy anymore?"
"I think," said Ainz, "that he has a master who loves him just as much, whatever shape he takes. And that is a very great thing to have."
Blanc stared at him. Her eyes had gone suddenly bright.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about Burgundy," she whispered.
"I meant it."
"I know."
"Do you know what the most important thing is about being different?"
"What?"
"Finding the people who do not mind," Ainz said.
Blanc let out a shaky laugh. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
"You're a very good skeleton, Ainz," she said.
"Thank you," said Ainz. "I do my best."
From the far end of the hall, a long, rumbling, contented sound rose from the sleeping dragon. It might have been a snore. It might have been a purr. Mare stirred, smiled in his sleep, and tucked his face deeper into the bone.
"Next time," Blanc said, sleepily, "can we do this in my world?"
"I should like that," said Ainz. "But first, you must come for tea. Thursday, if that suits. I am told it is customary to bring a guard of honor."
"Rask and Tal are going to be so excited."
"I shall inform Cocytus."
"And after that, my world?"
"After that," Ainz said, "I believe it would be only fair."
"And maybe Nap can meet more people."
"I would be honored."
"I'll tell him."
"Do," Ainz said. "I believe he is awake."
Blanc turned.
In the middle of the sleeping dragon, one pale-blue eye socket had opened a crack. It looked at Ainz. It looked at Blanc. And then, very slowly, it winked.
Blanc began to laugh, and could not stop.