Page 68 of The Dark Lord Awakens
For the first time since I’d met him, Azrael looked genuinely sympathetic. “Indeed, my lord. Perhaps the traditional regalia isn’t so bad after all?”
“Nice try,” I said, returning to my breakfast. “But I’m still getting new clothes.”
Azrael stood in silence, clearly torn between his duty to advise me and his duty to obey. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his discomfort. The idea of the Dark Lord of Iferona in sleek, modern-fantasy fusion rather than spikes and bone accents was apparently causing him physical pain, and the fact that I’d ordered it all while having what appeared to be an animated conversation with myself probably wasn’t helping matters.
True to Sesame’s promise, a small portal opened in the center of the room exactly forty-seven minutes later. Several large boxes emblazoned with the OpenSesame logo emerged, hovering in the air before settling gently to the floor.
“Would you like me to examine these void garments for any potential hazards, my lord?” he asked stiffly, eyeing the boxes with the suspicion usually reserved for packages that might contain explosives.
“They’re clothes, Azrael, not weapons of mass destruction.” I opened the largest box, revealing neatly folded stacks of my new wardrobe. “Though I suppose looking this good might be considered dangerous in some circles.”
I selected a pair of slim-cut leather pants in deep black, a midnight-blue silk shirt with subtle silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs, and a black brocade waistcoat with a subtle pattern that caught the light when I moved. To complete the look, I chose a floor-length cloak in the same midnight blue as the shirt, lined with silver silk and fastened with a simple but elegant silver clasp.
The quality was exactly what I’d hoped for—fine fabrics, perfect stitching, the kind of clothes that would have cost me a month’s salary in my previous life.
Azrael watched in barely concealed horror as I dressed myself, leaving the top two buttons of the shirt undone. I caught a glimpse of myself in the ornate mirror across the room and had to admit I looked good—the clothes fit perfectly, highlighting my lean frame and contrasting nicely with my pale skin and silver-white hair. The outfit struck exactly the balance I’d been hoping for—elegant and slightly otherworldly without veering into costume territory.
“Well?” I turned to Azrael. “What do you think?”
For a moment, Azrael seemed at a loss for words. His crimson eyes widened slightly, sweeping over my form with an intensity that was almost palpable. I could have sworn I saw his throat move in a swallow before he composed himself.
“The garments appear to… fit you adequately, my lord,” he managed finally.
“High praise indeed,” I said dryly. “Come on, we don’t want to be late for the meeting.”
As we walked through the corridors of the Dark Citadel, I could feel Azrael’s gaze on me. Every time I glanced his way, he would immediately look ahead, his posture rigid. But the moment I turned away, I could sense his eyes returning to me, lingering particularly when I reached up to adjust my collar or stretched my arms, causing the leather pants to… well, do what well-fitted leather pants do.
My demon butler apparently had a thing for modern-fantasy fusion.
Moments later, the meeting room fell into immediate silence as I walked in. Every department head froze mid-conversation, their eyes widening as they took in my appearance. General Smashington’s arms actually dropped the battle maps he’d been holding, while Magister Wiggles’ translucent skin rippled with agitated magical patterns. Duke Splashypants, who had been gesturing emphatically over a map of the marshlands, went completely still, his webbed hands frozen mid-gesture.
“Morning, everyone,” I said cheerfully, sliding into the ornate chair at the head of the table. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
No one moved. No one spoke. They just… stared.
“Okay, seriously? They’re just clothes.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Can we move past the fashion shock and get to the actual meeting?”
Sir Formalitee was the first to recover, clearing his throat with a sound like rustling parchment. “Of course, my lord. I have prepared the agenda as requested.” He shuffled his papers nervously, his eyes still darting to my waistcoat. “We shall begin with the infrastructure assessment reports.”
“Perfect. Who’s first?”
Mistress Pokey stood, her bark-like skin creaking slightly. “My lord, I have surveyed the agricultural zones as commanded.The situation is… dire.” She unfurled a map of what I assumed were the farming areas. “The Twilight Farmlands have been overplanted for centuries. The soil is depleted beyond natural recovery.”
“Can we fix it?” I asked, leaning forward to examine the map.
“With time and proper techniques, yes. But it would require leaving large sections fallow for at least a growing cycle, further reducing our already inadequate food production.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll keep using the void portal for food while we rehabilitate the land. What about indoor growing systems? You know, using artificial light?”
Mistress Pokey blinked her leaf-lidded eyes in confusion. “Artificial… light, my lord?”
“Yeah, like—” I stopped, remembering where I was. “Sesame, I need some agricultural reference materials. Books on hydroponics, vertical farming, and soil rehabilitation techniques. Make them appropriate for this realm’s technology level.”
The blue window hovering near my chair brightened. [Certainly, Lord Lucien. Would you prefer physical texts or digital formats?]
“Physical. And make sure they’re translated into whatever language these folks use.”
[Processing request. I can provide comprehensive agricultural manuals with visual aids. Would you also like educational models or starter kits?]
