Lost in Glory

Eneumerius Roseduck was pacing in his quarters. He was furious. It usually took a lot to make him upset, but not these days. His sanity was getting thin from the endless meetings with the lords, and the attempt on his life didn't help at all. And now this. He had seen much incompetence in his life, but this was beyond his comprehension. Beyond any human understanding. And to make it worse, he didn't even know who was responsible for that. Probably in the end the responsibility would fall to him and this made it even worse.

"How? How could this... this..."

"Abracabrachupacabra," Vannard reminded helpfully.

"...make his residence in an abandoned castle in the middle of the Empire?"

"Well, I guess he just went there and claimed it." The assassin decided to be annoying by pointing out the obvious.

"Yes, I guess he did. Hired some workers. Rebuilt it. Hired some guards. And nobody even noticed!"

"Most people aren't too observant," Saalteinamariva observed.

"Indeed they are not. Even the scouts I sent didn't find anything peculiar about a ruined castle that's not ruined anymore. How could everyone fail to notice that?"

"Some sort of magic maybe?" Vannard suggested.

Roseduck looked at the sorceress.

"Could be," she said.

"Could be some sort of magic. How helpful of you two!"

"It is there. Why bother how or why?" Vannard had a very practical outlook on life. "Lead an army and wipe out that 'dark lord' and his minions."

"I guess you are right. The problem is that I cannot lead an army, because I cannot leave the capital until the new Emperor is elected. I also cannot send any of my incompetent underlings. Technically, I can, but I won't, because they would fail horribly."

"Send me," the assassin volunteered.

"I cannot make you an army commander and I don't know if I would trust you with an army."

"Who says anything about an army? I go in, I kill mister Ab and everything else I find, I leave."

"Vannard... I know you're good, but maybe not that good. We have just established that this 'dark lord' probably is some sort of a mage."

"I can deal with mages."

Saalteinamariva sneered. "Maybe with a deaf, blind and lame mage."

"Would you like me to disembowel you to prove my point?" Vannard asked pleasantly and smiled.

"Would like me to blow you up to kingdom come?" she replied and smiled back.

"And where would that kingdom be?"

"In your case somewhere inside the ceiling."

Roseduck was hesitant. Vannard's idea had its merits. It had many merits. No need to involve the army, no need to admit to everyone around that a 'dark lord' built himself a castle under the Empire's very nose... On the other hand, regardless of the assassin's boasts, he was somewhat doubtful about his chances to handle this on his own. There was another alternative and even contemplating it made him uneasy, but it was worth a try. If it doesn't get him killed for a mere suggestion, that is. He decided to risk it and interrupt the pleasantries. "I'm sure if you go there together you can handle that dark lord person."

"WHAT?" they both asked in unison.

"I am suggesting that you two go together and wipe out inhabitants of that castle."

"I don't need her help!" Vannard protested.

"I don't need his help!" Saalteinamariva protested.

"It is illogical to refuse help of a highly skilled person," Roseduck tried to reason with them. Which, of course, didn't work.

"True. I simply don't like her."

"And I don't like him."

"I don't ask you to like each other. I only want you to lay some destruction together for a limited time. I will pay. A lot."

"Her company isn't worth it..."

"And you think yours is?"

That was too much for the General. "Oh for badger's sake! I'm not asking you to marry! Just kill some people together! You're supposed to be good at that!"

"I kill alone."

"Because nobody wants to be near you." The sorceress wasn't one to miss an opportunity to insult Vannard.

"Yes, because they would feel bad about their meagre skills."

"Meagre skills? What do you think you are, some sort of divine killing machine?"

"More like hellish, but yes."

"You might be good with your knives, but a halfway decent mage can cause much more destruction."

"Random destruction doesn't impress me. Unless it's amusing, that is. But I treat killing like an art."

"You and art? I'd like to see that!"

"Very well. Let's go and you'll see!" Vannard challenged her.

"Oh really? Very well! I'll laugh at your pitiful efforts."

"Hah! Prepare to be overwhelmed!"

"I'm prepared to be underwhelmed."

"How nice that you came to an agreement," Roseduck joined in the fun. "Anything you need before you go?"

"Knives. Lots of knives."

-I-I-I-I-

Yet another electoral meeting was in progress. They were in the third week and everyone had had more than enough by now. Apart from the Master of Ceremony. The old man was inexhaustible. Only the Marquis could match his perseverance, mainly by not being there. This meeting had lasted for a few hours already and the participants' hearts weren't really into it.

"It's your seventh nephew you're proposing, you, you, you very fat thing," the Hiwelthadt said weakly.

"Yes, Thinoak has too many nephews," the Count complained.

"Shut up, Dumbparrot," the Duke replied without much feeling.

"We should exchange his nephews for a barrel of... of... of cavalry," the Baron said.

"When I was young, cavalry came in sacks," the Marquis murmured sleepily.

"May the Lord of Light bless those sacks."

Suddenly there was some sort of commotion outside. Guards were shouting to keep out, someone shouted something about... orcs?

"What's happening out there? We should find out," Roseduck suggested.

"It would be highly irregular to pause the proceedings just because of some shouting outside," the Master of Ceremony replied.

"The very fact that someone tries to disturb our proceedings means that it must be something that cannot wait," the General insisted.

"Whatever," the Duke muttered. "Let's see. It can't be more boring than sitting here."

"True that," the Count agreed weakly.

"It must be really bad if we agree on something," Philigree said and laughed. But it was a sad, forced laugh.

The Master of Ceremony got up and opened the door. "What is the meaning..."

"Orcs! Orcs are coming! Invasion!" a man dressed in a scout's uniform shouted. "Where is the General?"

"I'm here. How many?"

The scout just breathed heavily and looked like he was going to pass out just right there.

"Out with it, man! How many?"

He took a deep breath. "OVER NINE THOUSAAAAAAAAAAAND!" he screamed. That awoke everyone.

"Over nine thousand? That's impossible!" the Count shouted. The Duke tried to get up quickly and fell down with his chair. The Hiwelthadt laughed crazily.

"What do you mean by 'over nine thousand'?" the General demanded. "Nine thousand and one?"

"Well there were so many that we got scared and ran away when we counted about nine thousand of them. And there were more coming."

"Ah. That explains it. Sort of. No need to get that dramatic, though. Well, I guess it means I'm needed to lead the army. Apologies, my lords, but I am needed elsewhere."

"Not so fast, young man!" the Master of Ceremony protested. "You cannot leave the capital until the new Emperor is chosen! This is the law."

"I'm all for upholding the law and all that, but you see, this invasion should take precedence I think..."

"The law is the law is the law!" the Master of Ceremony said. "You cannot go."

"Give him a break, man!" the Duke shouted from the floor. "It's a skunking invasion!"

"What will you say when the orcs sweep through the Empire, get here and tear your limbs off?" the Count demanded.

"Then I shall die limbless, happy that even in the darkest hour I stood firm and upheld the rules given to us by our forefathers!"

"I'd joke about this, but there is no way to make him look sillier," Philigree said.

"Let's kill some orc!" the Baron exclaimed. "Come, Roseduck! Let us ignore this old fool and ride upon them like the hurricane rides upon small rodents!"

"If you leave the capital, I will declare you traitors! You know I can do it!"

"I'll declare you strangled!" the Baron roared.

"Hit him with a chair! With a chair!" the Hiwelthadt cheered him on.

"There is no place in these walls for such an unholy act!" The Earl positioned himself between the Baron and the Master of Ceremony.

The perspective of Oxrabbit strangling the annoying old man was rather tempting, but Roseduck decided it would be unwise to allow that. Especially that the Earl would interfere and it could only get worse from there. A free-for-all between the High Lords was the last thing they needed right now. Especially with everyone watching. "Let's all just calm down," the General said. "No need for violence." He addressed the scout. "You! Go find the officers! Tell them to start assembling the troops!" Not that these officers were any good, but assembling the troops was something they should manage.

"Yes, General!" the scout ran off in a hurry.

Roseduck closed the door. "Now, let's choose the new Emperor, shall we?"

"This is highly irregular..." the Master of Ceremony started. And all the hell broke loose.

"You are highly irregular!" the Count shouted.

"I'd say he's too regular!" Philigree retorted.

"A regular crazy old fart!" the Duke agreed.

"He's just doing his job, you unholy sack of lard!"

"Your grandmother was a grandhamster," the Marquis said calmly to nobody in particular.

"No time for arguing when orcs are coming!" the Baron said. It was a surprisingly sensible remark, therefore nobody acted on it.

"Best time there is," the Hiwelthadt replied.

"Skunk you!"

"May the unholy carp eat out your eyes!"

"Uncleskunker!"

"May the Lord of Light turns your intestines into eels!"

"Shut up!" Roseduck shouted, but without much effect. Fortunately for him, the Baron was his ally. Sort of.

"SHUT! UP!" The powerful shout filled the room. To drive his point home, Oxrabbit pounded the table with his fist. The table broke with a loud crack. The room suddenly went silent.

"You broke the table..." the Master of Ceremony said weakly.

"Get over it," Roseduck quickly replied. "No more of this bickering. We need a decision and we need it now!"

"Right! I, Duke Bartholomeus Theodoricus Angus Thinoak, High Lord of the Empire, submit the candidature of Menerrick Idontremember Hisothernames Housegoose to become the next Emperor!"

"The candidature of Menerrick Idonrembur Hisothermus Housegoose has been submitted. Will anyone second the motion?"

Silence was only response to the question.

"We're not THAT desperate yet," Philigree said.

"He's as good as any!"

"But we don't want the fat man behind the throne. It could break when you lean on it."

"Why you little sillytitled..."

"I, General Eneumerius Roseduck, High Lord Commander, submit the candidature of Mevrin Dontputit Onfire Oxrabbit!"

The room went silent again. Mevrin Oxrabbit. Nobody had even considered Mevrin Oxrabbit. Not even Baron Oxrabbit himself, mainly because he had been busy submitting candidatures of people long dead and/or ineligible for other reasons.

"The candidature of Mevrin Donupit Onifur Oxrabbit has been submitted. Will anyone second the motion?"

The Baron didn't hesitate. Mevrin, after all, was family. You vote for your family.

"I, Baron Regedulf Solthyron Asrius Oxrabbit, second the motion!"

"The motion is passed. Now let us deliberate in silence for ten minutes. After that, the voting will commence."

Roseduck was nervous. This was his moment of truth. Would he get his awful candidate elected or not? No way to tell. He decided that should this vote fail, he was going to vote for someone else's awful candidate, whoever he might be.

He looked at the other lords, trying to guess what they will do. He had Oxrabbit's vote for sure. Two more needed. But who? Shaggysheep? Squarewheel? Blueparrot? Blazingtree? Surely not Thinoak, but who knows? The Marquis looked as usual, which meant that level of his participation in this reality was unknown. Roseduck suspected that he knew what was happening, but it was no more than a guess. The Duke sat with his fists and teeth clenched. Definitely not happy. The Count seemed deep in thought, as was the Earl. The Hiwelthadt was smiling, no telling what he found funny this time. Roseduck himself tried to look calm. He hoped he was doing a decent job of it.

"The vote will commence now. Everyone in favour of electing Mevrin Oxrabbit as the new Emperor, please rise your hands."

Roseduck and Oxrabbit rose their hands at once. The Duke just sat there looking angry, no vote from him, as expected. Count Blueparrot shook his head. The Marquis lifted his hand, seemingly absentmindedly. The Earl did nothing. The Hiwelthadt giggled. And lifted his hand too.

"The result of the vote is: four in favour, three against. Mevrin Donupit Onifur Oxrabbit is our new Emperor, May He Live For A Thousand And Three Years!"

-I-I-I-I-

They arrived at their destination in the middle of the night. Saalteinamariva got there by a carriage. There was enough place inside for Vannard too, but of course neither of them wanted to travel together. The assassin rode on horseback, only occasionally approaching the carriage to exchange a few insults. Everyone was more or less happy with the arrangement, apart from the driver. He expected to land in the middle of a assassin-sorceress conflict any second. Fortunately, nothing like that had happened. Yet. There was still the way back and he wasn't looking forward to that.

The castle was huge and jet-black. High towers, a deep, wide moat. Fortunately, no lions in the moat. How it could have been missed was beyond understanding. But they weren't here to wonder about that. They were here to seek and destroy. With an emphasis on destroying.

Now there was a question of how to enter. The front gate was guarded, which wasn't that much of a problem, but it would alert the residents of their arrival, which would be ill-advised. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any rear entrance of any sort.

"Can you fly us through a window?" Vannard asked.

"Do I look like an air mage to you?"

"Not really."

"So that is your answer. Although, I could explode you through a window I think."

Vannard considered this for a moment. The idea of crashing into a castle window at high speed had some appeal. He imagined himself flying through some room, throwing knives at everything that moved. Then the more practical part of him came to voice and he imagined himself crashing into a wall at high speed. The result wasn't satisfactory.

"I think I'll say no to that."

"A pity."

"I know that you'd like nothing better than to splatter me against the wall."

"You know me too well, but never mind that. Looks like now it is time for mister awesome assassin to figure out a way to enter without alerting everyone, don't you think?"

Vannard thought about it for a moment. "Mister awesome assassin figured out a way. Through the front gate. We will ask those nice guards to let us in."

"Oh. I am overwhelmed by your ingenuity."

"I'd ask you to trust me, but that obviously isn't going to happen."

"Obviously."

"So how about you just follow my lead? You're not afraid of those two, are you?"

"Of course not. I'll just put them on fire when you fail."

"If I fail, you mean?"

"I mean what I said."

"Very well, be this way."

They approached the castle on foot. There was a moat in the way. The gate was a drawbridge, and it was raised. Two black-clad warriors stood guard on this side of the moat. At least they pretended they are warriors. Vannard had seen them move and they didn't seem all that warriory to him. More like peasants hired to pretend that they were warriors. The assassin was often amused by the notion of giving peasants chain mail and halberds and pretending that they were competent guards. Why these ridiculous halberds again?

As they slowly walked towards the guards, the sorceress contemplated the best way to lower the drawbridge, just in case Vannard's idea failed. She had a bit more confidence in him than she was willing to admit, but she was all too well aware that he was not a people person. If the goal was to kill the guards, Vannard was just the one to do that. He'd probably drown them in the moat just to satisfy his primitive sense of humour. Talking them into lowering the bridge was a completely another matter.

"None shall pass!" one of the guards challenged them as they approached.

"Be a good guardhalberdperson and let us in, will you? Me and my lovely companion here are to have dinner with the dark lord."

Saalteinamariva wasn't too happy about being referred to as a lovely companion, but she decided to play along for now. What would a lovely companion do in such a situation? Smile pleasantly, probably. So she smiled. It came out as an awful rictus.

The poor guards didn't seem to know what to make of this. Two strange people, appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the night want to see the dark lord. Strange. He didn't have visitors before. But if he was to have some, that's what they would look like, probably. They were looking very... darklordly? Somehow threatening at least. On the other hand, they were given no orders to let anyone in.

"I'd better ask the captain," the guard replied.

"Of course."

"Captain! Captain!" the guard shouted, but he got no answer.

"Communication issues?" Vannard asked with a smile.

"Yes, well, uh," the guard replied. "The gate is quite thick, you know." He sounded a horn. After a moment the bridge started lowering. They waited patiently. As soon as the bridge was down, Vannard moved forward. Saalteinamariva followed him. The guards looked at each other. They didn't feel it would be a good idea to stop them, but also didn't want to let them go in on their own. So they followed, keeping a respectful distance.

On the other side there were two more guards and the captain. He was easily recognisable. He had a shinier halberd and a prettier steel cap.

"Please point us towards the dark lord," Vannard asked him nicely.

"He's down in his dungeon, of course," he replied.

"Thank you, good man. Keep on guarding."

"Thanks," the captain of the guard replied instinctively, as Vannard moved past him. "Hey, wait! You can't just walk in here!"

"We're to have dinner with your boss."

"I know nothing about this! I must clear that with AAAAARGH!" he screamed as a small fireball exploded in his face.

"Hey, I wanted to kill him!" the assassin complained, throwing knives at the other guards.

"Too slow!" the sorceress replied and fried another guard. A few more emerged from the guardroom, but they were quickly dispatched.

"That was easy," Vannard stated the obvious and proceeded to recover his knives. "So you were saying that my plan wouldn't work?"

"It worked," Saalteinamariva admitted. "But only because of stupidity of these guards."

"As I recently discovered, people are rather dumb," he said while using trousers of one of his victims to wipe the blood off his knife.

"But you cannot assume they all are!" she protested. "It wouldn't have worked if they had been smart!"

"Obviously. But they wouldn't have been guarding a gate if they were smart. They were simple peasants, and peasants aren't too bright."

"Those two could have been unusually bright! You simply were lucky!"

"I prefer the term 'educationally guessy'."

"There is no such term!"

"You're just upset that I didn't fail."

"Yes I am!"

"And with that established, can we go kill that dark lord person?"

-I-I-I-I-

"You found the armour. Good," the Oracle said.

"You look like you were swimming in a swamp," Gaduria pointed out. Alexander gave her a dirty look. It would be difficult for him to give her any other kind of look, because he was very dirty at the moment. Both he and the paladin were covered in mud, which was drying slowly and falling off.

"The helmet was a nice touch, don't you think?" the Oracle asked.

"Yes. It was rather surprising that it was hanging on a branch instead of being submerged in the swamp with the other parts." Arthaxiom didn't sound too enthusiastic about that.

"Especially that we only found it after a few hours of diving in the mud, when we finally gave up and decided to return," Alexander added.

"The possum nesting inside it was even more surprising," the paladin said and took off the aforementioned helmet. His face looked like he had tried to wear a helmet containing an angry possum, which was exactly what had happened. "You could have told us it was there."

"Or at least that it wasn't in the mud," the dwarf remarked. He was rather unhappy with his swampy experiences. "It would have spared me the pleasures of being molested by a huge swamp lizard."

"It all helps you to become better people. Or dwarves."

"I'd like to learn more about what that lizard did to you," Gaduria added. Alexander stuck out his tongue at her. A clod of dirt fell on it. He spat with disgust.

"Better people? In what way?" the paladin inquired.

"For starters, now you know to check your helmet for possums before wearing it. And now, about those toad eyes..."

"Ah, yes, right..." Alexander seemed a bit uncomfortable with the subject.

"I know you have them still attached to the toads. I can deal with that. Just give me the sack."

The Oracle took the sack full of frogs and pulled out a shield from behind a rock.

"It wasn't..." Alexander started, but the Oracle interrupted him.

"...there before. But it is here now."

Arthaxiom didn't care where did the shield come from. He was happy to put his hands on it. The last part of his Heroic gear. He admired it. The shield was golden, with a fish sticking out of it. A huge fish, standing on its tail, with scales gleaming red and gold. Its eyes were rubies and its head was sticking out towards the enemy.

"The Flaming Fish of Fury!" the paladin exclaimed.

"Swamp gas got to his head," Alexander explained. Nobody took notice of him. Gaduria joined in examining the shield. The Oracle got busy counting toads. Just for show, of course, since she had known how many they'd catch even before she sent them to the swamp.

"Where should we go now?" Arthaxiom asked when the excitement had subsided a bit.

"Skywards," the Oracle replied.

"Excuse me?"

"Go skywards and you will meet your destiny!"

Arthaxiom pondered on this. "Alexander! We need a ladder!"

"Would need to be a skunking long ladder."

"Yes! That is what we need!"

"Stop being silly!" the Oracle berated them. "It's a metaphor!"

"A metaphor? Take cover!"

"No, not a giant rock falling from the sky."

"Oh. Sorry." Arthaxiom stopped covering on the round with his new shield held above his head.

"It means that my answer wasn't straightforward. You are supposed to figure out what I really meant."

"Ah. So, if you said skywards, it means... downwards! Alexander! We need a shovel!"

"Would have to be a skunking huge shovel."

"Yes! That is what we need!"

"No, you morons. Sky. What colour is the sky?"

"Some sort of... greyish?" Alexander tried.

"No! The sky is blue!"

"If you say so... seems greyish to me."

"And it means...?" the paladin asked. He decided not to guess anymore.

"That there is a village called Blue which you would have know about if you had the slightest idea where you are! You should go there!"

"Oh. You could have said that first."

"No. There are rules. I was supposed to let you try to guess even if I already knew you'd fail horribly. Now begone."

-I-I-I-I-

The Emperor was chosen, but the fun wasn't over yet. There were formalities that could not be skipped. Well, they probably could be skipped, but not with the Master of Ceremony around. General Roseduck tried to haste things as much as he could, but it didn't amount to much. Each High Lord had to sign the official proclamation, which was relatively sensible. Then each High Lord had to thank the Lord of Light for the divine guidance that had helped with the choice. This wouldn't be too bad, if not for the Earl, who improvised a bit and started to ramble about some weird religious stuff involving a single combat against the Demonic Cow while armed with a red herring on a stick. Roseduck silently asked the Lord of Light to render the Earl mute, or at least kill him, if muting was too much trouble, but nothing happened. As usual. That was why he had lost interest in this whole religion stuff a long time ago.

After the Earl finished his blabbering, it was time for consumption of the Electoral Strawberries. Each lord had one. That was really stupid, but at least didn't take long. Good thing these weren't Electoral Watermelons instead, although the Duke would probably appreciate that more. Finally, the ritual spitting on the Master of Ceremony's feet ensued. They all enjoyed this part. After that it was all over.

"Time for me to take care of the orc problem. Farewell, my lords," Roseduck said.

"You will miss the coronation!" the Master of Ceremony protested.

"Is it a high treason if I miss it?"

"Well... no."

"Then I'm going. Those orcs won't defeat themselves, you know!" He stormed out of the room.

"Wait for me!" the Baron called and followed him.

"And for me!" the Marquis suddenly came to life and ran after them. That left the rest of the lords speechless. They looked at each other in confusion. Count Blueparrot was the first to speak.

"What the skunk just happened?"

"Who cares? If they want to commit suicide it's their problem," the Duke replied.

"It seems that orcs are the only thing that can arouse old Shaggysheep."

"You really are an unholy bastard to make such jokes!" the Earl complained.

Philigree just laughed. "That's me!"

"All right, all right, we had our fun," the Duke said. "But we all know what we all are thinking about, and no point in denying... You're running away too, aren't you?"

"Thinoak, you fat coward!" the Count scolded him. "I'm running away after the coronation!"

"Yes, let's pretend that we're not cowards," the Hiwelthadt seconded the idea and started laughing hysterically.

"At least we're not morons," the Duke replied.

"I am neither," Earl Blazingtree said. "The Lord of Light will protect me."

"So you're not going to run away?"

"Of course not! I'm going to change my location according to the divine guidance I will receive."

"Let me guess... this location will be far away?" the Hiwelthadt inquired.

"I think the Lord of Light in all His wisdom would not want me anywhere near an orcish horde."

"Ah. Well, I think he wouldn't want me anywhere near one either, but I think I won't waste his holy time and just flee on my own."

The Earl gave Philigree a look of the likes usually reserved for excrements stuck to a shoe, but the Hiwelthadt just shrugged and started laughing maniacally.

-I-I-I-I-

The corridor walls were stylishly black, softly illuminated by scarcely placed torches. On the walls there were tapestries depicting fire-breathing dragons, fearsome skeleton warriors, all sorts of demons engaged in all sorts of depravities, and other fun stuff. There were also niches containing full armour sets holding many different wicked-looking killing implements. Someone obviously had put a lot of effort into decorating.

"How romantic," Vannard commented.

"Shut up," the sorceress said. Which obviously caused the exact opposite.

"A perfect location for a date, don't you agree?"

"For an insane maniac like you, maybe."

"You surprise me. I thought you were the one to appreciate such ambience."

"Not enough fire."

"Well, we can remedy that on the way back."

"Also, too many insane maniacs."

"Can't help you with this one."

"Too bad."

They continued in silence. They were deep inside the enemy castle and had neither a map, nor a guide. They both knew where they wanted to go. Neither of them knew how to get there. Neither of them was willing to admit that. Finally, they had to, because they were getting nowhere.

"Why did you have to fry that nice captain before he gave us directions?" Vannard asked reproachfully.

"He was going to raise an alarm, you moron!"

"Yes, so maybe we'd have a few more potential guides..."

"We'd have one if you hadn't killed the last one! Why did you have to kill the last one?"

"Well... I had a knife... and he was... alive?"

"Bloodthirsty idiot!"

"Ill-tempered pyromaniac."

Fortunately at this point they reached a place where they needed to make a choice. They could go left or they could go right, and neither way looked particularly more promising than the other.

"Split up?" Vannard asked without hesitation.

"Thought you'd never ask."

"In case you miss me, just follow the corpses."

"In case you miss me, just follow the burning and screaming corpses."

"Wouldn't they be running, like, away from you?"

"Exactly. Why would you think I'd like you to find me?"

"You're breaking my heart, Sally."

"I'd fry it if you had one."

"I guess I could cut one out of someone, then you could fry it and we'd share a nice meal."

"So, in addition to being obnoxious and insane now you're disgusting too? Great. Just great."

"Love you too."

-I-I-I-I-

Five castle guards were sitting in their guardroom around a wooden table. They were supposed to be guarding, but they were playing cards instead. They decided that the castle was safe enough without their help. Nobody would break into it. Nobody would steal it. Yet another hand was reaching its conclusion.

"Llama!"

"Llama!"

"Duck!"

"Duck!"

"Goose!"

"Skunk your goose!"

"Don't skunk my goose you gooseskunker! Who lost? Go see if everything is ok."

Thok got up, mumbled something insulting and left the room. It was his turn to pretend to patrol, because he had just an ordinary llama, while Rugh had a bit rarer striped llama. He returned much sooner than his fellow guards had expected. His eyes were wide open and he seemed to be trying to say something, but he failed and just moved his mouth like a fish.

"Thok? Yalright?"

The guard just pointed at the door. Now all the guards were staring at the doorway. The reason for that was simple. The most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen was standing in the doorway. It didn't mean all that much, because they hadn't seen all that much in their lives, but still. She was tall and slender. A keen observer perhaps would notice from her facial expression that she seemed rather annoyed, but all the keen observers around were busy staring somewhere else.

"Can any of you point me towards that dark lord of yours?" she asked. "Your friend here seems to have forgotten how to talk."

Unfortunately for them, they didn't forget.

"Blzzzzsft!" one of them blurted.

"I am the dark lord!" the other declared.

"I'm a darker lord!"

"Is it getting hot in here? Drop the robes, baby!"

It was getting hot in there indeed. Mainly because of the sorceress' fury. Unlike other people, who could burn with fury only on the inside, she radiated it outside. She was very, very annoyed. After spending way too much time around Vannard she just ran into someone even worse. A few someones, even. Rude, drooling simpletons.

"Hey, cheer up, cutie!"

This was the last straw.

"DIEEEEEEE!" the sorceress screamed, and fire burst from her fingers. She was blind with rage, not seeing what she was doing. She didn't need to. The flames were everywhere. The guards were screaming, the sorceress was screaming, even the walls were screaming. It lasted for just a moment, and then there was silence.

She felt better. Much better. She needed that. She should have done something like that a long time ago. But now back to business. She realised she was lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Time to open them and get up. She did so.

What just a moment ago had been a perfectly good guardroom now was... a perfectly good burned guardroom. Whatever had been flammable, was burned to cinder. Including the guards. The walls were radiating heat. The floor... There was a huge hole melted in the floor.

"Wow. I didn't know I could do that," she said to herself with a mixture of awe and fear. Then she smiled. "I must be some sort of awesome now." She looked into the hole. It led to the lower level. Since the dark lord was supposed to be somewhere in the dungeon, it was the right way to go. A shortcut, even. She jumped down.

-I-I-I-I-

Mevrin Oxrabbit, or Emperor Mevrin the First as he was now known, was feeling a bit lost. Not long ago he was a perfectly normal young noble: throwing food at servants, throwing servants at food, throwing servants at other servants... Then a message came that he was to be the next Emperor. That was quite a surprise. He had heard something about death of the previous one, it would be rather hard to miss that. He knew nothing about the electoral process and had no idea he was a candidate. In truth, he had been told he was a candidate, but he got distracted by a maid carrying a stuffed albatross and he forgot.

His first question when he got the message was why did they pick him. The answer was obvious. His uncle must had beaten them until they did. The second question was what to do next. Going to the capital to assume the position was an obvious thing to do, therefore it took only about half an hour for his nanny to persuade him to do that. The other thing was more difficult.

"I'm not going to learn any silly oaths!" he said maybe for the hundredth time.

"Yes you are, dearie," his nanny replied patiently.

"No, I'm not! I'm the Emperor and I do how I please!"

"You are not the Emperor yet, dearie. You need to learn the oath to become the Emperor, so be a good boy and learn it."

"No! No no no no ow! Ow ow ow!" The nanny apparently decided that basic persuasion failed here, so she began enhanced persuasion. It consisted of hitting Mevrin repeatedly on the head with her wooden spoon. "Ow! Ow! Stop that!"

"I will not stop until you agree to learn the oath."

"Ow! I'll order you beheaded! Ow! Ow! Stop hitting me! Ow! Ow! All right, I'll learn your stupid oath!"

"Now that's a good boy," the nanny said and stopped hitting him. "The oath and the Virtues of the Good Emperor and the Emperor's Prayer..."

"I'm not learning those stupid five virtues!" Mevrin protested yet again. "Ow!"

"Six virtues, dearie."

"Too many of them!"

"An Emperor needs a lot of virtues, dearie."

"Is beheading nannies one of them?"

Nanny consulted her list. "No dearie. But humility is."

"That carps. Ow!"

"Good manners are there as well, dearie."

"Ow! Ow! All right! I'll learn... uh... whatever number of virtues it was."

"Six, dearie. And the Emperor's Prayer."

"I don't need no stupid prayer! Ow!"

"Yes you do, dearie."

"Why?"

Nanny shrugged. "I don't know. That's just the way it is, dearie. The Emperor needs the Emperor's prayer."

"What good does knowing it do?"

"It stops me from hitting you on the head, dearie."

"Ow! Ow! All right!"

-I-I-I-I-

The dungeon was very similar to the ground floor, just some of the decorations were different. A bit less tapestries, a bit more shackles. A skull here and there. Not as many torches, so it was darker and more foreboding. Saalteinamariva didn't care. She was drunk with her own power.

It didn't take her long to find the door. It wasn't just any ordinary door: big, double-leaf, and plated with metal. Not simply plated either, the metal was engraved with many characters and scenes. The sorceress didn't look at it too much, but she appreciated the burning elephant trampling the burning dwarf. She knew these had to be the door to the residence of the dark lord. It was time to open them. By opening them she meant going few steps back and hitting them with a stream of fire. The door wasn't flammable, but the sheer force of the stream made it open.

She waited a moment. Nobody came out, nobody screamed. She entered.

"You could have knocked," a somewhat raspy and sinister voice said. There was a figure clad all in black lurking in the shadows. Almost all in black. There were a few intensely violet, strategically placed skull sigils on its robes.

The sorceress wasn't impressed. "It was open," she said, disdain in her voice. "Dark Lord Abracabrachupacabra, I presume?"

The dark lord turned around abruptly, as if bitten by an invisible hamster. He looked at his unwelcome visitor. "You!" he pointed at her and shouted in anger. He didn't sound that darklordly anymore.

"Me?" she asked, surprised. Then she summoned a small ball of fire just to illuminate the room. Light fell upon the cloaked man's face. "You!" Her anger returned at once. She recognised the man. She knew him all too well. He was one of the Imperial Wizards. They used to hate each other very much. That didn't mean that much, because the same could be told about her and probably every other Imperial Wizard, mainly because the Imperial Wizards disapproved of female mages, and she disapproved of those who disapproved of female mages.

In this particular case it was more than that. They both were studying in the Tower of Wizards, years ago. Saalteinamariva had been barely accepted in first place. As the first female ever. Unfortunately, what transpired next convinced the wizards that female mages were a very bad idea. Basically, he tried to seduce her. To make it worse, he did it badly, because wizards usually know next to nothing about seduction. After some awkwardness she ended up thrown out of the Tower, and he ended up having his face reconstructed. And here he was now, posing as some sort of dark lord...

"We meet again," the dark lord said, calm and composed again.

"Indeed," the sorceress replied. "After all these years. I've been looking forward to this."

"You were?"

"No, not really. But it sounded like a good thing to say."

"You mean you've forgotten about me?"

"Well, sort of, yes. You know, life is short, and there are so many interesting things to burn down..."

"All right. With pleasantries out of the way, to what do I owe your visit?"

"The general idea was to put you on fire, and I think I'll go forward with that."

"That's what I was afraid of. Guards!" He looked expectantly at the other door. Nothing happened. "Guards!"

The door opened slowly. A guard appeared. He didn't look too lively.

"What is wrong with you?" the dark lord demanded.

The guard toppled forward. "Surprise! He's dead!" Vannard jumped out of the door and said with fake cheerfulness. "Missed me?"

"I did not," the sorceress replied.

"Your boyfriend?" the dark lord asked. That question startled both of them.

"Not really," Vannard responded. "But we have an interesting hate-hate relationship."

Saalteinamariva sighed. "Let's end this absurdity, shall we?"

"Not just yet. Emergency guards!"

This time the call was answered. Yet another door opened and two dozens of guards emerged. They were armed similarly to those they met before, but Vannard noticed that these moved somewhat differently. More like seasoned warriors than like simple townsfolk with spears.

"Fire!" the dark lord shouted. The guards fumbled for their bows and arrows.

"You want fire? I aim to please," Saalteinamariva said. Flames erupted from her hands.