Page 39 of The Dark Lord Awakens
“Get them here. Now.” I turned to Sir Formalitee. “Have food brought from the castle kitchens. Enough for everyone in this district.”
Sir Formalitee’s eyes bulged. “Everyone? But my lord, that would be thousands of?—”
“Everyone,” I repeated, a steel in my voice I didn’t know I possessed. “And I want clean water brought as well.”
I stood, addressing the growing crowd. The words that came next weren’t planned or calculated—they erupted from somewhere deep inside me, from the part that couldn’t bear to see one more moment of this suffering.
“Listen to me. Things are going to change in Iferona. No one should go hungry. No one should drink filthy water. No one should live in squalor.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. I could see the disbelief in their eyes, mixed with a dangerous thing—hope. Hope that I wasn’t sure I could fulfill but was determined to try.
“I make you this promise,” I continued, the words coming from somewhere I didn’t recognize. “Within one month, every citizen will have enough food, clean water, and decent shelter. This I swear as your dark lord.”
The silence that followed was absolute. Then, to my shock, the demon parent prostrated himself again, touching his forehead to my boot.
“Blessed be the Dark Lord’s return,” he whispered. “The prophecy is fulfilled.”
Wait, what prophecy?
“Blessed be the Dark Lord’s return! The prophecy is fulfilled!” they all chanted.
Demons were dropping to their knees all around me, some weeping openly. Even Sir Formalitee had abandoned protocol to join the genuflecting masses.
I shot a questioning look at Azrael, who stood rigid as a statue, frost literally forming on his perfect uniform.
“There is an… obscure text,” he said stiffly, “that speaks of the Dark Lord returning from a great slumber, transformed into a bringer of prosperity rather than destruction. It was dismissed as heretical nonsense by the previous administration.”
Previous administration meaning him, I gathered. Azrael did not look pleased that the “heretical nonsense” was gaining traction.
“Well,” I said brightly, trying to mask the overwhelming mix of determination and terror churning inside me, “prophecy or not, we’re making changes. Starting with food distribution. Then water and sanitation.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Azrael replied, his voice as cold as his frosted lapels. “Though I must express concern about depleting the castle’s stores for… commoners.”
The way he said “commoners” made it sound like “cockroaches.” It was a stark reminder that while I might have different values than the original Lucien, the world and its power structures remained very much the same.
“We’ll figure something out,” I said firmly. “No one starves in my kingdom. Not anymore.”
Not if I had anything to say about it. I might not have asked for this responsibility, but I was damn well going to fix what had broken in Lucien’s absence. These people deserved better than what they’d endured for the past three centuries.
10
Lucien/Beau
By the time we returned to the castle, I was filthy and thoroughly depressed by the state of my domain. I’d made a lot of promises out there—promises I had no idea how to keep. The castle’s food stores wouldn’t last long if we were feeding the entire city. The infrastructure problems would take months, maybe years to fix properly. And I’d essentially set myself a one-month deadline because my big mouth couldn’t help making dramatic proclamations.
I flopped onto my massive bed, still fully dressed, limbs splayed out like a starfish having an existential crisis. Mr. Snuggles, who’d been remarkably well behaved throughout the tour, hopped down from my shoulders and grew to the size of a large dog, curling up beside me with his head on my chest.
“What am I going to do, Mr. Snuggles?” I asked, scratching behind his ears. “I can’t let them starve, but I don’t have enough food. I can’t fix centuries of neglect overnight. It’s not like I can wave a magic wand and conjure up a functional sewage system and a few thousand loaves of bread.”
The dragon made a sympathetic rumbling sound that vibrated through my rib cage like a purring washing machine.
“I need to check the treasury,” I muttered. “See exactly what resources we’re working with. Though what good is a pile of medieval gold coins going to do? It’s not like I can waltz into the neighboring kingdom with a sack of Iferona currency and ask for their finest farming equipment. ‘Hello there, good sir! I’m the Dark Lord from next door. Would you accept these evil-looking coins with my face on them in exchange for your finest non-evil vegetables?’”
Mr. Snuggles perked up at the mention of the treasury, his one good eye gleaming with interest while the milky blind one stared vaguely in the direction of my left ear.
“You want to show me where it is, buddy?” I asked.
The dragon nodded enthusiastically, hopping off the bed and padding toward the door. He looked back at me expectantly, tail swishing with such excitement you’d think I’d suggested a trip to the dragon park.
