Lamont Sharpswift kicked open the door to the Evil Overlord’s inner sanctum, brandishing his sword. He knew that this was it: the moment he had been waiting for. The moment when he would finally free the land from tyranny. The wizard, his ancient mentor, had told him that it all came down to this.

“Prepare to die, Evil Foe!” he yelled in what he hoped was a suitably heroic voice as he charged into the room, magic sword flying like a brand of light against the darkness.

The room was empty. Puzzled, Lamont stared around him. This was indeed the highest room in the tallest tower of the Overlord’s castle, and yet…there was nothing here. It was just a circular stone room with a strange series of narrow slits in the wall. These were too small for a knight in full armor to put his fingers in, because the first thing Lamont did when he noticed them was to try this.

“I don’t understand!” he exclaimed aloud, not realizing for an instant how foolish he was being. “The map of the castle I purchased at great price from the peculiar old man in the market said that this was the inner sanctum of the Evil Overlord of Drákon.”

“Well, there’s your first mistake,” said a voice from behind him.

Lamont spun around, sword poised. The dark-haired, ordinary-looking man who had spoken raised his hands to show he was unarmed. “Pardon me, good sirrah, but who art thou?” Lamont enquired after a full thirty seconds of puzzling over how the man had gotten into the room without him noticing.

“Me? Nobody important, I promise you,” the man replied amicably. Lamont did not like the way he was smiling, though. It was positively ironic. Irony always made Lamont nervous. He hardly ever understood what was going on until somebody explained why the situation was ironic, and it did not look as if this man, however unthreatening he was, was going to explain anything.

The man let Lamont think for a good minute and a half before continuing. “As I was saying, your big mistake was letting some crackpot rip you off for a purported map to this place. Can’t tell you how many of them there are these days just out to make a couple of coins. Anyway, I can guarantee you the map’s fake.”

“And how haps it that thou possessest such wisdom?” Lamont asked.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. “Because there are no accurate maps to this castle. The Overlords have made sure of that for generations.”

“Surely the architects…”

“They were killed as soon as they were finished. And the builders all had their hands amputated if they weren’t killed outright. Too risky to leave them around to pass on important secrets to some well-meaning do-gooder with grand ideas.”

Lamont was now thoroughly puzzled. But that was no surprise, as he was puzzled most of the time anyway. By this point he’d just learned to roll with it. “I am afeared that I understandest thou not, sirrah,” he said, trying to sound as perplexed as possible.

“That’s quite all right.” The man’s smile widened, showing very straight white teeth. “The last six heroes we’ve caught up here with this fun little trap didn’t understand it either when I tried to explain how they had gotten themselves into the interesting predicament you now also find yourself in.”

“That is a relief.” Lamont was glad he wasn’t alone in his puzzlement. “Why did thou tellest any of this to me?”

“Simply for my own amusement, of course. Since you will soon be joining your six valiant comrades-in-arms anyway. But we’ve wasted far too much time on these little pretenses.” The man clicked his fingers. Immediately, he was encased in head to toe in gleaming black armor. Atop his head appeared a massive helmet, visor down, with two very impressive-looking animal horns attached on either side.

“Thou art the Evil Overlord?!” Lamont gasped. It seemed to him that he should somehow have seen this coming, but was unable to figure out why. He gripped his sword in a suddenly sweaty hand, wondering how he was going to get out of this one.

“Of course I am, nitwit. And since I regrettably have no more time to waste playing this entertaining battle of the wits with you…FIRE AT WILL!”

From the slits in the walls that had so confused Lamont earlier flew dozens of sharp-tipped arrows. When the body of Lamont had finally fallen to the ground and expired, the Overlord clapped his hands and called, “Medic!”

Immediately a small, mousy-looking man in a white lab technician’s coat came scurrying forward. He bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Overlordship?”

The Overlord removed his horned helmet with a grateful sigh. “See if he’s dead yet, will you, Fredrick?”

“Right away, Your Overlordship.” The man proceeded to check the arrow-riddled body thoroughly. Then he glanced at his handy patented Indoor Wrist-Sundial. “Time of death…3:36 PM, sir.”

“Very good. Perform the autopsy as usual to make sure he’s not carrying any infectious diseases that could spread when the body is burned. The last one had consumption and bubonic plague, as I recall. And make sure to put that sword someplace safe in the armory before anybody gets hurt.” Ordarnis, 41st Evil Overlord of Drákon, wiped the sweat from his face. Another busy day.

“I’m glad you persuaded me to build this false inner sanctum in the highest tower and distribute fake maps to the townsfolk, Edwin,” he commented to his chief and most trusted lieutenant as they descended the stairs. “The entertainment value alone has made it worth the effort.”

“I’m glad. You work yourself too hard, sir,” Edwin answered, helping Ordarnis remove his wrist guards. “I worry that you don’t have enough fun, sometimes.”

“I won’t be having any more fun this month if I can’t get out of this blasted armor. It’s a nice feature that it goes on automatically, but it’s been a real pain in the butt to take off again afterwards. Whose idea was it to buy this stuff, anyway?”

“Yours, sir,” the big man answered.

“Ah. Well then, next time I propose to buy magic automatic-dressing armor without a reverse feature, talk me out of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better yet, scrap this armor and set some of my magic engineers to making an identical set that does remove itself. Remind them that I like this color, though.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

---

“And therefore I feel that it would be in our best interest to send the Legions of Terror to Ebaea and ransack it as a warning to the rebellion that we shall not take their blatant disrespect to the Empire.”

Ordarnis was just barely able to keep from raising an eyebrow in disbelief as Papa, the chancellor of his secret advisors, took his seat and the others clapped in approval. After the clapping had died down, Papa looked right at Ordarnis and nodded his aged head in respect. Ordarnis quickly straightened up and tried to look more imposing than bored.

“Well, my liege?” Papa asked. “What do you think?”

“You…” Ordarnis paused a moment to try and regain his composure. “You want to ransack our richest port to teach the rebels a lesson?”

“It’s quite an idea,” one of the other advisors agreed as the door to the council room opened and a young messenger stepped inside. Ordarnis spared the messenger a quick glance. Edwin was already making his way around the table to meet the messenger and would decide if the message was one Ordarnis needed to hear right now. The young Overlord personally hoped it was. “I can see it striking the fear of god into your enemies.”

“I care very little if they fear god or not,” Ordarnis said dryly. Edwin had just finished talking with the messenger and was making his way back around the table. “I care if they fear me.”

“Well, yes of course, my liege,” the advisor stammered. “I only meant that-”

Ordarnis held up his hand when Edwin softly cleared his throat, effectively silencing the advisor. Edwin leaned forward and whispered a few choice words in Ordarnis’ ear. The young Overlord smiled as he listened.

“Excuse me,” he said when Edwin finally stepped away, “but something has just been brought to my attention which needs to be taken care of.” Ordarnis stood, his black cloak dropping over his shoulders as he stood. “We will continue this meeting tomorrow.”

The advisors murmured quietly in agreement as Ordarnis, flanked by Edwin, made his way out of the council room. Once the door had shut behind him, he was immediately surrounded by the members of his private guard, which began escorting him down the halls of the castle.

“At least these foolish heroes are good for something,” Ordarnis growled as he pulled off the circlet resting on his brow and passed it to Edwin, who proceeded to pass it onto one of the guards. Ordarnis also unclasped his cloak and removed it, revealing an outfit which perfectly matched those of his guards—and Edwin. The cloak also ended up in the arms of one of the guards. “I swear, The PAPA is more intelligent that that fossil who calls himself my chief advisor. Sacking Ebaea, are they insane? The only outcome of that would be more disgruntled heroes showing up at the castle gates.”

“I don’t doubt it, sir,” Edwin agreed. “I’m sure your public advisors will be able to come up with a suitable plan which will keep Chancellor Papa of Myratrus happy while not risking Ebaea.”

“Quite,” Ordarnis agreed. “Now about this hero?”

“He has penetrated the castle wall and will begin making his way to one of the ‘sanctums’ at any moment,” Edwin explained. “Another messenger should be along soon to tell us which one. Do you have any plans on how you would like to kill this one?”

“Have the magic engineers been able to come up with an automatic-dressing armor with a reverse feature?”

“They say it still needs a few more tests.”

“What a shame,” Ordarnis sighed. “Handling that last one on my own was certainly amusing. Oh well, life first, I suppose.”

“Yes sir,” Edwin agreed as the other messenger joined them in the ranks of the guards, next to Edwin. The trusted lieutenant gave Ordarnis a questioning glance, and the young Overlord nodded. “Yes?” Edwin asked the messenger.

“The hero is using the servants’ passages,” the messenger explained.

“That will take him to the throne room, and the sanctum behind it,” Edwin mused as the messenger quickly left the circle of guards and went to deliver other messages.

“Drat,” Ordarnis muttered. “I was hoping he’d end up in Weirith’s cavern.”

“We could lure the hero there.”

“No, luring would take up far too much time,” Ordarnis said. “You can handle this one. It’s always a good laugh when the heroes mistake you for me. I honestly don’t know how you do it, Edwin. I couldn’t even manage to keep a straight face with the last one.”

“You performed your part admirably sir, and did do a fair job in keeping a straight face,” Edwin promised. “The hero certainly didn’t suspect anything until you activated the armor.”

“I think that speaks more for the incompetence of heroes than my acting abilities,” Ordarnis said as they entered the throne room. The young Overlord spared a quick glance to the servant door, pleased to see that there didn’t seem to be any activity behind it. Heroes were notorious for being loud.

“All right, you all know what to do,” Edwin told the guards. “Remember, do not fire until the Overlord orders it.”

“And by ‘the Overlord’, Edwin means himself, because he will be fighting the hero,” Ordarnis added. The guards nodded and filed out through the back door behind the throne. They would position themselves on a secret upper level behind the walls, where there small slits for firing arrows, like in the other ‘sanctum’. The last guard to leave was the one who had held Ordarnis’ cloak and circlet. The guard passed the two items to Edwin before leaving.

Edwin wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and placed the circlet on his brow. With those two items, heroes always jumped to the conclusion that Edwin was the Evil Overlord and never even thought to ask. Both men walked up to the throne, and while Edwin took seat to wait for this renegade hero, Ordarnis went behind the throne to listen. He leaned back against the throne and crossed his arms, knowing fully well that a ‘dramatic’ entrance was going to occur at any moment.

Sure enough, he wasn’t disappointed. There was a clatter from the servants’ passages, and right after that the door slammed open. Ordarnis closed his eyes and imagined the hero’s valiant entrance. He had seen enough of them over the past few years that he was 90 sure he could picture the hero kicking the door open and rushing into the room with his weapon raised.

“Were you expecting applause?” Edwin asked in an attempt to bring the hero out of his adrenaline rush and back into the real world.

“Ha, Ordarnis!” the hero yelled. In his mind, Ordarnis saw the hero straighten up and tighten his grip on his weapon. “Today thou shallst meet thine end upon this here blade. For I, Drake Starr, shall smite thee on this here day!” Ordarnis sighed, unable to believe that someone would actually name their child that.

“Are you done blowing off steam?” Edwin asked. “I am a very busy man and only have a small amount of time to spare on meddlesome little creatures like yourself, and you just wasted half of it.”

“Thou art cornered and alone,” Drake Starr stated. “And have no choice but to engage in a duel against me in a battle unto death.”

“Your death, you mean,” Edwin said. Ordarnis listened as his trusted lieutenant got to his feet and quickly discarded the cloak and drew his sword. After that, the only distinguishable sound was that of two swords clashing against each other. Personally he wished that Edwin had just ordered the guards to shoot the blasted hero. Nevertheless, a rumor that Ordarnis had killed another hero in battle would be good for his image, and every once in a while he had to let Edwin have some fun.

At least that was what he had believed until he heard two sounds he had sworn he would never hear in succession while Drákon was under his rule: the sound of steel sliding into flesh and the triumphant yell of a hero. Ordarnis stepped out from behind the throne in time to see Edwin drop to the ground, probably dead.

It didn’t take the hero long to see him, and when he did he raised his weapon in defense. Ordarnis ignored him as he made his way to Edwin and knelt down next to his Trusted Lieutenant. As he had suspected, Edwin was already dead. Ordarnis carefully pulled the older man’s eyes shut, before turning to glare at the hero.

“I killed him,” Drake Starr said confidently.

“Yes, you did,” Ordarnis agreed in a low rasp. Any louder and the waiver would have been evident.

“I hath slain the Evil Overlord Ordarnis.”

“No.”

Drake blinked, suddenly confused. “But good sirrah, thou said…”

“You killed this man,” Ordarnis said, pulling out his boot-knife and standing up. “Edwin, the trusted lieutenant of Lord Ordarnis.”

“This is not the Evil Overlord? Ordarnis still lives?”

“He does, and he is certainly not going to be happy with you when he finds out you killed his Trusted Lieutenant,” Ordarnis explained as he stepped up next to Drake Starr. “Those are rather hard to come by, as I’m sure you know.”

Drake Starr laughed. “Sirrah, I believe you hath just stated that I hath slain Ordarnis’ most competent knight. The Overlord is now defenseless, what could he do to me?”

“This,” Ordarnis stated as he buried his dagger deep into Drake Starr’s chest. The hero’s eyes widened as Ordarnis withdrew the dagger and took a step back. “Finding another Trusted Lieutenant is going to take quite a bit out time out of my busy schedule, and your life seems like an appropriate payment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You…” Drake whispered as he dropped down to his knees. Ordarnis grinned, knowing that he had finally been recognized by this arrogant and foolish hero.

“Yes, your enemy, Lord Ordarnis?” the young Overlord agreed.

“But… Glib… promise…” Drake wheezed before falling to the ground at Ordarnis’ feet, dead.

“Medic!” Ordarnis yelled. The door behind the throne opened at Fredrick made his way out along with Ordarnis’ personal guards. Fredrick started to look over Edwin first, but Ordarnis waved him onto Drake. “Make sure he is dead and out of the way before you worry about anything else.”

“Yes, your Lordship,” Fredrick agreed, going to Drake and looking him over. “Time of death, 1:14 pm. Perform the autopsy and burn the body?”

Ordarnis paused a moment to think. While it was very tempting to stake the head out as a warning, he also knew that it would be a foolish move that would draw out even more potential heroes. “Yes, and then send someone down to take care of Edwin. Make sure his body is treated with the utmost respect as he’s prepared for his burial.”

“Yes sir,” Fredrick agreed.

Ordarnis allowed Fredrick to get to work and turned to his chief bodyguard. “Get their weapons down to the armory, spread around the word that I was injured in this battle and won’t be appearing in any court functions until the wound has healed. That should keep me safe until I can find a new Trusted Lieutenant. And call my public advisors so they can start figuring out the best way to hire a new Trusted Lieutenant. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. I’ll be in my inner sanctum till tomorrow.”