Chronicles of a Comic Relief

Authors' Note: Hi everyone! We're back with a vengeance with our sequel to Chronicles of an Evil Overlord. We're still in the editing process for Overlord but still plan to get it published. The final chapter, and only the final chapter, of Overlord will remain up, so we apologize to those of you who come across this story and haven't hand a chance to read the original. This sequel has been in the works inside our heads for awhile, ever since SamoaPhoenix wrote the short story 'Comic Relief' and we decided we wanted to bring Teshi into the main storyline. Those of you who have read the short story will notice that a lot of the parts of the first two chapters that follow Teshi are word-for-word, but there has been some fleshing out and details added. After the time covered by the short story is over, 'Chronicles of a Comic Relief' will spin off in its own, all-new direction.

For those of you just joining us, we are two authors who created an entire universe based on the 'Evil Overlord List,' the link to which can be found on our profile. We each take half a chapter, which are differentiated with a page break or three stars.

We've also created a forum for updates on the publishing process of Overlord, so feel free to check that out as well.

We hope you enjoy.

The moment Teshi was born, everyone present said that he was destined to become someone’s Comic Relief. They just couldn’t help it: he was such a funny-looking baby with his wild frizzy tuft of blond hair and one eye turned permanently inwards. He looked nothing like his siblings, who all had beautifully straight locks and perfect pairs of forward-facing eyes. His parents were a little disappointed that the Fates had seen fit to give them a Comic Relief child, but they shrugged and decided that they would do their best by him. They grew so used to calling him “the little Comic” that they almost forgot to give him a proper name until he began to make his first efforts to talk. After a frantic consultation in the next room, they agreed to call him Teshi, meaning “uncontrollable laughter” in the ancient tongue of their land, Danesea.

Teshi, for his part, took his future role in stride. Only once did he question what seemed to him to be a growing contradiction.

“Mama, why is it that the others are smarter than me?” he said to her one day after coming home from the village school when he was about six years old.

His mother turned away from the bucket of dishes she had been rinsing, wiping her hands on her skirt. She smiled at her amusing boy. “What makes you ask such a thing?”

“I can answer all the questions Teacher asks us in class, and she never calls on me! And the other kids never know the right answers!” Teshi said, his plump lips forming a pout.

“What makes you think you know the answers?” his mother asked, her indulgent smile growing.

“Because they’re the same ones that are in the books Teacher gives us. I know because I look them up after class, and they’re always the same as mine! It’s not fair!”

“Ah, my poppet.” His mother drew him into her cozy waist. “Never you mind. Schoolwork just isn’t for you. You’re meant for great things! You’re going to become Comic Relief to a hero someday, I just know you are!”

“But what if I don’t want to do that? What if I want to be good in school instead?”

His mother gave one of her great belly laughs that she was famous for throughout the village. “Hark at you! Only six and already telling jokes! You’ll be the best Comic Relief that ever was! Just wait until your father hears that one when he comes in from the fields!”

“It wasn’t—” started Teshi, but she had already turned and walked away.

After being forced to repeat his so-called ‘joke’ to an endless stream of amused relatives and family friends, Teshi decided it would be better not to bring up the appropriateness of his future role again. It made too little sense to him, yet everyone else seemed to accept it. He did make it a point over the years to gather as much information, rumor or otherwise, about exactly what the role of a Comic Relief was and what sorts of traits were required, beyond the obvious. He kept a stack of handwritten notes in a box with a wobbly hinge he’d made himself.

First and foremost, a Comic Relief’s job was to lighten the mood of an otherwise serious quest, whatever the object thereof might be. Slay a dragon, rescue a kidnapped maiden, defeat an Evil Overlord in combat, save a loved one from a mortal poison or wound, all of these were terrible situations that required the presence of a Comic Relief in order to maintain the sanity of the hero involved. Heroes without Comic Reliefs often gave up in despair. Lucky Comic Reliefs, however, might be in a quest that involved all of the above situations and required all of their skill to provide cheer to the questors.

Occasionally, and this was what pleased Teshi the most about the role, a Comic Relief also got to perform the duties of a sidekick. These sounded much more interesting than simply providing entertainment. A sidekick got to aid his hero by providing weapons, and ideas on how to accomplish a quest. It was often his task to sneak around and gather important information simply by appearing innocent and anonymous, or to act as a bold distraction so the hero could work. Yes, he was often the packhorse on a quest, he never got to marry the beautiful girl, and he was often killed in a dramatic manner, but his job with his partner hero was a vital one.

Eventually, when he was about ten, it came to Teshi why everyone had considered him a Comic Relief from birth. There were certain characteristics one had to possess in order to even be considered for the job, and he had them in abundance. First and foremost, one had to be good for nothing else. Teshi was the weakest, clumsiest boy in the village. He was certainly not cut out for farming, as he was a danger to everyone in the vicinity with a scythe or plow. Anything he made, like the box in which he kept his notes, inevitably had some sort of defect that made it worthless for practical use.

He was also, though this was not necessarily a trait of all Comic Reliefs, the sort of personage it was hard to take seriously. His wild, curly hair stuck out in all directions, entirely unbiddable. Use of a comb only made things worse. His permanently turned eye improved some as he grew older, but it was still slightly fixed. As a result, he had difficulty perceiving depth and took an extra second to focus on things close up. He was also quite short for a boy—even his younger brothers looked down to him after the first few years.

The only trait he didn’t have was great wit. In fact, as most of what he said tended to get a laugh whether he intended it or not, he preferred not to speak if he could help it. Oh, he noticed things, but never told what he saw unless directly asked. No one ever did. So he stored things away in his mind and in his box against the day when his destiny would find him.

One day not long after Teshi had turned fifteen he was poring over a secondhand book of jokes his siblings had thoughtfully gotten him for his birthday when his youngest brother came racing into the house full of babble about heroes in town. This was the most interesting news since it had been proclaimed throughout the land three months earlier that Princess Camilla, the King’s eldest daughter, was to be married. Every village had marked the day of the wedding with joyous festivities and toasts to their heir to the throne and her new husband. Not much was known in the Danesea countryside about the new Crown Prince other than he came from Drákon, the neighboring country where Princess Camilla had been held captive by that realm’s Evil Overlord for several months. Some stories said he was the son of a Drákonian count who had rebelled at the indignity of his Overlord kidnapping a foreign princess. Others said he was a valiant farmboy who had snuck into the castle solely to free Princess Camilla. Still others said he was a hero who had disguised himself as a noble in order to vanquish the Overlord, but had fallen in love with Princess Camilla and escaped with her instead.

That news had been far more interesting to Teshi, with its multiple versions of a thrilling story, than heroes actually being in town. They’d come, pay for food and possibly lodging, and then be off on their quest again. Similar things had happened before. Heroes traveling in Danesea were well aware that villagers were kindly disposed towards them and would aid in whatever way reasonable.

But his brother was insistent, and therefore Teshi, wearing his most mulish I-don’t-care face, accompanied his brother to the village square. Practically the entire village was there to ogle at the newcomers. The heroes themselves, two blond men and a raven-haired woman, seemed much more concerned with looking impressive than with anything else. However, when the woman saw Teshi, her eyebrows went up and she smiled. Her two companions glanced at her inquiringly, and she bent to whisper to them. Teshi was now struggling to keep his face impassive rather than mulish, because the entire village was craning to peer at what the heroes deemed worthy of their attention. An excited spat of murmurs broke out. Teshi could feel his face getting red, which he knew made him look even more ridiculous than usual. He hated people staring at him.

The female hero raised her hands for silence, and instantly the village went quiet but for the sounds of animals in the distance. “Friends,” the woman announced grandly. “We have just now discovered the last key to the success of our noble quest, right here in this very village!”

Everyone present, including Teshi himself, knew what she meant. It was clear that this group was only lacking a Comic Relief before they could set off. Hands came behind Teshi, shoving him forward into the open ring of people in which the heroes stood.

“What do you think? Join us?” asked one of the male heroes.

Teshi glanced around, hoping to find some excuse to refuse. He certainly didn’t feel prepared to be anyone’s Comic Relief, not yet. At the very least, he still hadn’t completely memorized his new joke book. But then his eyes found his parents, standing on the edge of the crowd. They were beaming, arms around each other. His mother had tears in her eyes, and she gave him a tiny nod of encouragement. Sighing heavily, Teshi turned back to the heroes. “I…” his voice cracked. A wave of good-natured giggles swept through the town, and Teshi blushed again. “I suppose I could come,” he stuttered at last.

“Good lad!” The man clapped him on the back.

“Out of curiosity, just where are we going?” asked Teshi. But no one heard him amid the ensuing din of his acceptance by the heroes.

---

That evening Teshi sat uncomfortably on the mule the heroes had found for him, already wishing the journey could be over. He had never been much of a rider, as his natural clumsiness was not really suited to keeping in the saddle for long periods. He had managed not to fall off yet, though there had been several near misses. Luckily his heroes had not felt it necessary to go at a pace above a trot more than once or twice.

As he sat, he took a moment to study the other three on their splendid horses. Roy, the eldest, was craggy of face and of a nature inclined to silent brooding. At the moment, however, he was complaining, which Teshi privately found an improvement on the silence that had reigned most of the day.

“Ah, that I should be reduced to this! A hero of my stature, who has slain many monsters in fierce combat, forced to take up arms against a mere mortal man! Why, it’s demeaning enough to make one cry!”

“What does he mean by that?” Teshi whispered to Owain, the other male hero of the group who was just a few years older than Teshi himself.

Owain sneered at him. “Don’t you know anything, Comic Relief? My Uncle Roy is one of the Legendary Heroes of Danesea. He has been in the King’s employ for many years, slaying dangerous monsters such as dragons and gryphons.”

“Then why isn’t he now?” asked Teshi. He was impressed in spite of himself at being in the presence of one of the Legendary Heroes—currently there were only three of them. Five, if you counted the new Crown Prince and his majesty the King, but they weren’t really expected to perform any heroic deeds except under dire circumstances.

“Never tell him I told you this, but he was…honorably discharged…when a dragon rampaged through the royal progress and nearly killed the King,” whispered Owain in a conspiratorially loud voice. He straightened when Roy turned to glare at them. “The Comic Relief asked,” Owain said quickly. Teshi bristled and prepared to defend his question, but Roy turned back to brooding at the road between his horse’s ears. Apparently further questions about their journey’s object would have to be postponed again.

Teshi expected that his services as a Comic Relief would be called upon when they camped for the night. However, it seemed that his companions were as unused to having a Comic Relief as he was to actually being one. It was Roy who entertained them around the campfire with tales of his heroic exploits. Within moments, Owain and Merita were heavy-lidded; presumably they had heard all of this before. The stories were pretty standard when compared to Teshi’s store of knowledge on heroic journeys, but he did learn a bit about the types of monsters Roy had faced over the years.

Gryphons were intelligent and understood the languages of men as well as most animals, but were also apparently vicious and ruthless. Teshi wondered, if gryphons did understand human language, why negotiating with them wasn’t tried when one inadvertently built a nest too close to a human settlement.

Dragons, on the other hand, varied in behavior depending on species but had several common traits. All were large, extremely territorial, and ten times more vicious than gryphons. Most species breathed fire, though of course ice dragons were the exception. Apparently Roy had only faced an ice dragon once; they tended to stay in their own vast swath of stateless territory north of Drákon.

Nymphs were just as deadly, though in an entirely different manner. They were immortal women who lived in small clans around a spring and seduced single men who wandered by. Teshi had to wonder how often that happened, but as usual kept all such questions to himself. Eventually Roy grew tired of telling stories and they crawled into their bedrolls. Teshi was glad he’d had time to pack such things before he’d left. He would have been very cold otherwise. As he fell asleep, he wondered for the thousandth time since joining the heroes where they were going.

The next morning had the feeling of the beginning of a routine. Everyone got up, Merita cooked breakfast and they all ate silently. Once the camp was deconstructed everyone got on their mounts—Teshi with as much difficulty as the last time; his usual clumsiness seemed to be getting worse rather than improving now that he was on a quest—and they started off.

The morning was as silent as breakfast had been. At their pause for lunch, Roy eyed his charges speculatively. “Now, remember you two,” he said to Owain and Merita, “We’ll be crossing the Drákonian border tomorrow, so keep—”

“We’re going to Drákon?” Teshi burst out in surprise. He had assumed, foolishly he now supposed, that they were finding some sort of adventure within Danesea.

The other three looked at him in surprise and some disdain. “Of course, boy,” Roy said. “Why, did we not tell you what the object of our quest is?”

Teshi shook his head mutely.

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“I did—” Teshi began, but Owain interrupted him. The young man was dreamy-eyed.

“We are off to rescue fair Princess Jade from the dreadful clutches of the Overlord of Drákon!” he exclaimed.

Teshi, for the first time in his life, felt like the fool he’d so often been labeled. Of course they were rescuing Princess Jade, Crown Princess Camilla’s younger sister. The pair had been kidnapped by the Overlord at the same time, and no one in Danesea had expected now-Prince Clark to rescue both sisters at the same time and then have to choose between the two. Roy hoped to regain his honor and esteem with the King by bringing home his younger daughter. And as for the other two…Teshi wasn’t sure about Merita, but he had a guess about Owain’s motives.

Mertia stood abruptly, glaring at Owain. “We should get moving if we want to make Drákon’s border by tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Roy agreed, and everyone busied themselves putting the lunch things away.

Teshi sidled up to Owain as they were preparing to mount. “Is Princess Jade beautiful?” he asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Owain admitted. “I’ve never seen her.” His eyes went dreamy again. “Uncle Roy has, though. He says she’s not quite as beautiful as Princess Camilla, but still a lovely sight to behold. Shining dark hair, sparkling green eyes, perfect skin—”

He might have gone on like that but for Merita, who had urged her horse forward to nudge Owain with its shoulder. “May I remind you,” Merita said icily, “that the lovely Princess to whom you refer is now engaged to the Overlord himself and will be forced to marry him if we don’t arrive at the castle in time.”

Owain scrambled to his feet and hastily mounted. “You’re right of course, Merita. There’s no time to waste!”

Teshi grinned to himself as he struggled to remount his mule. He had confirmed his feeling about Owain: the young hero hoped to marry Princess Jade as a reward for his services. And Merita was jealous, but as long as Owain had his eyes on the idea of Princess Jade’s beauty he would never notice.

Interesting that it was the younger sister who was to marry the Overlord, and only after her elder sister had already been rescued. Wouldn’t an Evil Overlord naturally want the added power of marrying the heir to an adjacent kingdom? He’d expand his control without any effort on his own part except an elaborate ceremony.

Merita edged her horse directly next to Owain so their knees were almost touching. “Enough of idle chatter. Comic Relief, amuse us with a joke!”

This was what Teshi had been waiting for, and he obliged while his brain worked on what he had just learned.

An hour later, after regaling them with the majority of his repertoire of memorized jokes, Teshi’s cheeks were growing quite sore from making ridiculous faces in order to achieve the desired affect of laughter. He decided to cut his losses.

“Knock-knock?”

“I want to answer him this time!” Merita demanded when Owain opened his mouth.

“No, it’s my turn, you answered the last knock-knock joke!”

“But not the last joke, you did!”

Teshi sighed. “Knock-knock?”

“Whosthere?” Merita said quickly, then stuck her tongue out at Owain, who glared at her.

“Nobody.”

“Nobody who?”

“I just told you. Nobody’s here anymore. The jokes are done.”

“Wha—” Owain and Merita looked at one another, and then began arguing about the point of the joke, which gave Teshi a much-needed chance to massage his sore face. He’d almost prefer silence, boring as it was, to telling jokes and listening to bickering. If the life of a Comic Relief meant keeping the peace between people who were attracted to each other and wouldn’t admit it then this would be his last adventure. He’d find a way to keep other heroes from taking him on somehow.

Roy finally turned around in his own saddle to bellow at Owain and Merita that they were giving him a headache. The pair went silent at once and then simultaneously turned to one another and stuck their tongues out. Roy sent a glare Teshi’s way, clear reproof for not fulfilling his duty and keeping the air lighter on their quest. Teshi’s face burned but he reasoned that he had already done his best and it had not been terribly effective.

That was no excuse for not trying, however. He did have some longer humorous stories memorized that he’d been storing away for a dire situation. Being locked in a dungeon could be no worse than this.

By the next day things had settled down into relative silence again. Every time there was a flare-up between the younger two heroes Teshi was ready with a story. He rarely got a laugh at the end, but it did make Owain and Merita forget whatever they had been fighting about. Usually the relative beauty of Princess Jade. Teshi was proud of himself for performing his job as Comic Relief so well, if not precisely in the conventional way.

That was also the day they crossed into Drákon. Teshi kept his eyes out for some sort of subtle change in the landscape to reflect that it was ruled by an Evil Overlord rather than a benevolent king. The rolling, prosperous-looking hills simply continued, punctuated by rolling, prosperous-looking farms. Teshi had expected things to be a little more…well, desolate. Perhaps they would be, closer to the capital.

He’d keep an eye out.

***

To the south of Danesea was another kingdom ruled by an Evil Overlord. Lord Monthau had taken over the kingdom of Rosamar (one day he’d get around to changing the name) six years ago. It had been a particularly bloody take over, starting over fifteen years ago when Monthau had managed to talk his way onto King Godfrey’s royal council. Although a good man, Godfrey was a bit befuddled in the head, preferring to work on his game of croquet instead of ruling his kingdom. Monthau had used this to his advantage, gaining the king’s trust through the game until eventually he had become Godfrey’s most trusted advisor. Finally, when the time had been right, Monthau had taken over the castle with his magically created army, murdering Godfrey, his family and his loyal supporters in the process.

Remembering his conquest, Monthau chuckled to himself and snuggled down in his throne. The royal jeweler, who was presenting a collection of new circlets, cringed. He was probably afraid that Monthau’s laughter had something to do with him. Monthau chuckled some more, pleased that his subjects feared him so. After all, he had worked hard for his reputation as a despicable tyrant within his own country. His armies of Rdrnt, magically constructed lizard-like men, were scattered across Rosamar. Over the past six years they had excelled in such activities as crushing rebellions, taxing villagers into beggary and generally inciting terror wherever they went. Monthau was now all powerful within Rosamar. There were none who dared challenge him.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. Rosamar was a tiny kingdom and Monthau dearly wanted to expand. He wanted to create and secure a kingdom that could be passed down through his bloodline. The only Overlord to manage such a feat was Lucifer, the first Overlord of Drákon. After more than four hundred years, his bloodline still ruled as Evil Overlords.

Monthau’s eye began to twitch as he thought about how easy it had been for Lucifer. All he had to do was swallow up the tiny kingdoms that had surrounded Drákon. A feat that grew much easier as the Overlord’s kingdom grew. Rosamar was bordered by two fairly large countries comparatively. To the north was Danesea and to the south was Utas. Not only were both countries much larger than Rosamar, but they were also ruled by benevolent kings who made it their business to crush Evil Overlords before they became too secure in their power and started expanding. Monthau was lucky neither country had decided to overthrow him in the last six years.

Lucky, but this was also a problem, for that meant the Rdrnt were untried in real battle. Oh, they had done well enough against Rosamar’s pitiful army and the peasant rabble rousers since then, but that was nothing compared to a real army. Compared to real heroes. That was what Monthau had been counting on when he took over Rosamar: heroes from Utas and Danesea riding in to depose him. His Rdrnt would kill them, gaining experience, so he could finally begin expanding this tiny country into a force to be reckoned with!

He had timed his ascent to the Rosamar throne so carefully. He hadn’t wanted to take over too soon after Ordarnis’ coronation, since heroes always tended to strike at new Overlords of Drákon early in their reign, before they became too secure in their power. Monthau also hadn’t wanted to wait too long either, because then Ordarnis would have been deposed by his half-brothers or uncles and Monthau would have been forced to wait again while the 42nd Overlord secured his place. Three years had seemed like the perfect time to strike and so Monthau had. After every member of Godfrey’s family was lying dead at Monthau’s feet, the new Overlord snuggled down into his new throne and prepared for the first heroic strike against him.

It had never come. Impatient, Monthau had sent out for news, curious as to why he was being ignored in spite of all the terrible things he had done. The news had been shocking to say the least, and horrific enough to shake up all the benevolent kingdoms in the land. All of Ordarnis’ half-brothers and uncles had been killed in their attempts to wrest the throne from the 41st Overlord. For the first time since Lucifer took the throne, Drákon had no clear heir to take the throne if Ordarnis were to meet his end. Heroes increased their assaults against Drákon, hoping to finally crush that despicable line once and for all. In the six years that he had been an Evil Overlord, Monthau hadn’t faced off against one hero.

“Hordr!” Monthau yelled, jumping to his feet. The jeweler jolted and knocked over his display. Monthau spared the man a sneer, knowing that he’d have to come up with some sort of creative punishment if any of the circlets were damaged, but right now he really didn’t care. “Hordr!” he called again.

Monthau sat back down as his Trusted Lieutenant, Hordr, stepped through the large double doors into the audience hall. With the grace of a large cat, Hordr sauntered down the hallway towards the throne. As he walked, he kept his eyes on the jeweler, who began to shake in fear. Monthau grinned when he noticed. Any sane man would find Hordr intimidating, thanks to Monthau’s genius.

Hordr had probably been handsome, once. He was tall and well muscled, but also lean-- traits that made his similarities to a large cat all the more pronounced. When Monthau had met Hordr, the man had been bald. Over time, dark red hair had grown back in; although Hordr made sure it never got too long, preferring the more militant cut.

From the back, Hordr looked like a well-built soldier. A man that women would fling themselves at, until they saw his face. Somehow (Hordr had never gone into the details), Monthau’s lieutenant had been horribly scared by burns. The white and red blisters started at Hordr’s nose and spread out across his face from there. The scars covered his eyelids, forehead up to his hairline and most of his cheeks. It looked as though Hordr had dunked his face into a fire pit. Ah, well, it wasn’t as though Monthau had hired Hordr for his intelligence.

Another disfigurement of Hordr’s, one that Monthau had been able to fix, was his missing right arm. While Hordr insisted that he had lost the limb in the same accident that had scared his face, the remaining stump didn’t look as though the limb had been hacked or burned away. Monthau suspected that Hordr had been born with the disfigurement and that he just didn’t want to admit it. No matter. Monthau had just started creating his Rdrnt when he had met Hordr almost ten years earlier. He had been able to recreate the limb, using the magic he had used to make the Rdrnt. Of course, it wasn’t a human arm, it was a lizard arm with scales and claws. The fact that it was Hordr’s sword arm, the one that disciplined those who displeased Monthau, made the lieutenant all the more intimidating.

“My Lord,” Hordr rumbled, his blue eyes focused on the jeweler. “Has this peasant done something to displease you?” The jeweler shrieked and threw himself to the floor at Monthau’s mercy.

“Oh, no,” Monthau said, waving dismissively at the jeweler.

“My lord, thank you, thank you,” the jeweler said, getting to his feet. He bowed several times. “Thank you, thank you.”

“If any of those circlets are damaged though, you will have severely displeased me,” Monthau added. The jeweler whimpered and returned to gathering up the circlets.

“My lord,” Hordr growled. “What do you require of me if this fool has done nothing to offend you?”

Monthau snuggled into his throne. He always preferred to be sitting when dealing with Hordr, since his lieutenant was so tall and Monthau was not. And since the Overlord of Rosamar hated to be reminded of that one weakness, he preferred to stay seated in his throne, where it was easier to forget the difference between himself and Hordr in size. Of course, all of Monthau’s other features were perfectly suited for his chosen profession. He had sleek, almost greasy, black hair. His dark eyes were beady and close together, perfect for glaring at his subjects in disgust. His nose was on the large size, which Monthau found delightful as it allowed him to look down upon the poor peasants he ruled. Although in his middle years (the perfect time to become an Evil Overlord and not, as some people thought, when you were an impudent brat who had just come of age), Monthau’s face hadn’t succumbed to wrinkles, leaving him always looking merciless. And of course he had a goatee covering his chin and a thin mustache. With the exception of his height, Monthau was the perfect Evil Overlord. And it wasn’t as though height was very important anyways. Ordarnis was rumored not to be very tall either.

“I want your report, Hordr,” Monthau said. “How close are the wizards to completing my weapon?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” Hordr said. “I have not been down to check the past two days, at the request of your wizards and on—”

“What!” Monthau yelled, jumping to his feet. “How dare they! Sneaking around behind my back! I’ll see them rot in the dungeon for this!”

“My lord,” Hordr said firmly and Monthau glared at him. He didn’t like it when Hordr talked to him like that. He was the Evil Overlord, after all, and Hordr was his servant. “My lord,” Hordr said again, gentler this time. “Your wizards have done nothing wrong. A few days ago they suggested that their work might go quicker if I wasn’t constantly hovering.”

“And you simply agreed to their requests?”

“No, my lord. I brought their request to you and you agreed, since you were willing to try anything to speed up the completion of the weapon,” Hordr explained. “Don’t you remember?”

Monthau laughed. “Yes, yes!” he shrieked. “Of course I remember, but you also clearly misunderstood, Hordr. You were not to constantly hover over my wizards but you still should have been checking their progress several times a day. Who knows what sort of devious plots they’ve been making behind my back because of your negligence.”

“My lord, I’m concerned that such surveillance may have ill effects on the quality of the weapon,” Hordr said. “How precise can their work be when their hands shake because they fear to err in our presence?”

“They should fear to err whether we are there or not!” Monthau yelled.

“I speak only in your best interest.”

“Ah, Hordr, my simpleminded friend,” Monthau sighed, dropping back into his throne. “While I applaud your attempts to act in my best interest, you simply don’t have the brain capacity to make such a decision. If you did, you’d realize that most of our wizards wish to overthrow me. Therefore, careful scrutiny of all their movements is required. We don’t want them rigging the weapon to explode when we turn it on, do we?”

“Of course not, my lord,” Hordr muttered.

“Good,” Monthau said. “Now, go check on the wizards and report their progress back to me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Hordr said, bowing and leaving the audience hall.

Monthau looked down at the jeweler. “Well, let’s see what you brought for me today. I hope it’s better than the last batch.”

“Yes, of course, my lord,” the jeweler said. “If you would look closely at…”

Six years. He had spent six years wasting time on this pathetic excuse for a kingdom when he should have been ruling a land much, much larger. In fact, half of Danesea and Utas should have been his by now. If it wasn’t for Ordarnis. The child Overlord had been hogging all the heroes. Clearly such fame was all he cared about. The timing of the death of his half-brothers and uncles was a masterstroke. The hope of destroying the Overlord line once and for all had kept a steady flow of heroes in Drákon and the moment it looked like it might finally start to drop off, Ordarnis went on to kidnap not one, but two princesses! Two princesses! And now he was going to marry one! Who did that boy think he was?

Well, Monthau would show him. Soon it would be Overlord Monthau of… whatever he decided to rename Rosamar once the expansion began, who would be feared throughout all the land.

Monthau was busy examining his reflection when Hordr came back with the head wizard. He was quite fond of the circlet he was currently trying on, although it wasn’t as good as a crown. When Monthau had first decided to become an Evil Overlord, he had been most excited about one day wearing a crown, until he found out Evil Overlords didn’t wear crowns. They wore circlets. Well, one day he’d change that. Perhaps when he’d taken over all the kingdoms in the land! Then, there’d be no one to care if he wore a crown or not.

The head wizard was a skinny old man who had begun slowly wasting away a few months ago. This was of great concern to Monthau, since the man was a genius and it was only because of him that creating the weapon had even been possible. Monthau didn’t need the man dying on him before his weapon was completed.

“My lord,” Hordr said. “The wizards—”

“Hordr,” Monthau seethed. “What have I told you about interrupting me?”

“My lord,” Hordr said, his voice taking on that firm tone again. “Surely such frivolous activities can wait until—”

“Hordr,” Monthau said, turning to glare at his lieutenant. Hordr’s lip twitched. A nervous habit, Monthau had learned. Finally, the Lieutenant bowed and took a step back.

Pleased with having put Hordr in his place, Monthau returned to studying his reflection in the mirror, grinning in delight when he saw the wizard start to shake out of the corner of his eye. Good. They needed a clear reminder of who was in charge after spending the past few days in relative freedom.

“Yes, I like this one,” Monthau decided, nodding to the jeweler.

“My lord, you do me great honor,” the jeweler said, bowing several times.

“It will do, for now,” Monthau said. “But I expect to see a new set next week. Hopefully this will give you a chance to improve on the quality.” The jeweler started to sway and Monthau cleared his throat, reminding the man that fainting would not be in his best interest.

“I thank you, my lord,” the man mumbled, bowing again. He gathered up the other circlets and left the audience hall. Monthau looked back in the mirror, pleased by how well the circlet brought out some of his best features (his greasy hair and beady eyes being the most prominent).

“My lord,” Hordr said.

“Still interrupting, Hordr.” Monthau took another long look at himself in the mirror before finally settling back down on his throne. “Now, how is the weapon progressing?” Hordr looked down at the wizard, who shuffled forward.

“My lord,” the wizard said. “We have finished building the weapon—”

“What!” Monthau roared, jumping to his feet. “Why wasn’t I informed immediately? Hordr! You should have told me the moment you returned!”

“I was under the impression that I was not to interrupt you, my lord,” Hordr said as his lip twitched again.

“Not with a meaningless, repetitive report,” Monthau scoffed. “But, really Hordr, important news like this must to be brought to my attention right away.”

“My mistake,” Hordr growled.

“Yes,” Monthau said, turning his attention to the wizard. “How long has the weapon been ready for you? Why did I need to send my Trusted Lieutenant down to glean this information from you? What are you hiding from me?”

“My lord, we are hiding nothing from you,” the wizard said. “While we have finished building the device, it is by no means ready for use yet.”

“What?!”

“The power source a weapon like this requires is huge. I do not believe there is anyone in Rosamar who would suffice. Also, we have yet to figure out a more manageable way to fixate the weapon on the spell you want.”

Monthau sat back down and puzzled over this. It was clear from the looks of the wizard, who appeared too exhausted to even shake in fear anymore, that they were running out of time. What if the man died before they completed either task? His plan would be ruined!

“When you say that you don’t believe that there is anyone in Rosamar who would suffice, do you mean that some sort of sacrifice is required to power this device?” Hordr asked.

“Yes. The only thing strong enough to power a weapon like this is a life force. In fact, only a particularly powerful one will do in this case.”

“How do you tell if someone has a powerful life force or not?” Monthau whined.

“It is well documented, my lord, that those who are good at heart often have very powerful life forces,” the wizard sighed.

“Oh, perfect!” Monthau shrieked. “This would be an easy feat if any of those idiotic do-gooders could pull themselves away from the glory of defeating Ordarnis and turn their attention to my villainy. But no! Six years, and not one single hero has entered my castle! Not one!”

“Your wording on finding a more manageable way to fixate on the spell makes it sound like there is a less-manageable way that would work,” Hordr said, causing Monthau to halt his screams.

“Yes, but that would require attaining something that is a part of the spell,” the wizard said.

Monthau perked up as it all clicked together in his head. “Hordr, have the Rdrnt escort our friend back to the workroom. Wizard, halt work on the weapon for the time being. I am in need a far reaching and very accurate transportation spell that can carry a large amount of bodies.”

Hordr balked and stared at Monthau for a long time in horror. Pleased to have garnered such a reaction from his lieutenant, Monthau allowed Hordr to recover on his own. Hordr finally shook his head and escorted the wizard the doorway, where the Rdrnt waited to take the old man back to the workroom.

“I’m glad to see you approve of my plan, Hordr,” Monthau said once Hordr had returned to his place by the throne.

“I wouldn’t say I approve, my lord.”

Monthau shrugged. “No matter. Your reaction said it all. Even you were horrified by my plan, which means it is more than suitably evil.”

Hordr’s lip twitched, again. They would really need to work on that before the lieutenant was allowed to face off against any heroes. “My lord, I’m concerned that such action may be unwise.”

“Nonsense, Hordr, we’ll be able to get both something connected to the spell and someone pure of heart. It’s sheer genius!”

“But calling attention to ourselves before we’re ready is foolhardy. I think—”

“No, Hordr, you don’t,” Monthau said. “Which is why I am the Evil Overlord and you are the Trusted Lieutenant. Now, be gone. I wish to wallow in the beauty of my plan.”

“Of course, my lord,” Hordr said, bowing and leaving the audience hall.

Once he was gone, Monthau began to chuckle to himself. Soon he would be the most powerful Overlord in the land. Soon he would be the one everyone feared. Whose death they’d seek in an attempt to increase their own glory, only to die a pitiful and degrading death at the hands of the Rdrnt. Monthau’s chuckle grew louder and more crazed the more he thought about this, until he was finally indulging in full blown maniacal laughter.