Page 19 of The Dark Lord Awakens
“Yes. Strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats. The usual strategic overview.”
He straightened, seemingly on more comfortable ground. “The Shadow Legion stands at five thousand strong, down from our peak of twenty thousand. Our elite shadow-walkers remain unmatched in stealth operations. Our weakness is primarily in siege equipment—much has fallen into disrepair. Our opportunity lies in the heroes’ overconfidence; they believe us weakened beyond recovery. Our threat is their alliance—they have never before united against us.”
I nodded, genuinely impressed. “Succinct and comprehensive. Thank you, General.”
Smashington looked stunned at being thanked, but before he could respond, a wispy figure glided forward. She seemed to be made of living shadow, her form occasionally dissolving into smoke before resolidifying. Only her eyes remained constant—piercing silver orbs that seemed to see through everything.
“Lady Shadowfax, Minister of Intelligence and Espionage, my dark sovereign,” she said, her voice like silk sliding over steel. “My network of spies extends throughout all neighboring realms. I collect secrets like others collect trinkets.”
Again, I suppressed a smile at the name. I’d been going through a major fantasy literature phase when I created her.
“And what secrets have you collected recently, Lady Shadowfax?”
Her silver eyes gleamed. “The heroes plan to move against us within the month. They believe you still slumber, and they seek to destroy your physical form before you can fully awaken. They have acquired an artifact—the Sunstone Blade—which they believe can pierce your heart.”
Well, that was less than ideal. Like finding out your car insurance expired the same day someone crashed into your parked vehicle.
“Do we know where this blade is now?”
“In the possession of the hero Valorian Lightheart. He keeps it on his person at all times.”
Of course he did.
“Continue monitoring their movements,” I instructed. “I want to know their plans before they do.”
Lady Shadowfax’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “As you wish, my lord.”
Next came a small imp-like demon wearing tiny spectacles perched on his pointed nose. “Lord Taxman, Chancellor of the Treasury, at your service, dread sovereign,” he announced with a deep bow that made his spectacles slip down his nose. “The Department of Eternal Revenue awaits your commands.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Lord Taxman? Really, past-Beau? That was the best I could come up with? I might as well have named him “Sir Accountant” or “Duke Spreadsheet.”
“Lord Taxman,” I acknowledged. “What is the state of our treasury?”
He pushed his spectacles back up with his calculator hand. “Dire but not catastrophic, my lord. We have sufficient funds for basic operations for approximately six months. Tax collection has been… challenging… with the population decline. However, I have maintained meticulous records of all who owe back taxes.” He patted the ledger lovingly. “With your permission, I could send the Auditors of Doom to collect.”
“Let’s hold off on the Auditors of Doom for now,” I said. “I’d like to review your books first. Perhaps there are efficiencies we can implement before we resort to doom-auditing.”
Lord Taxman looked simultaneously disappointed and intrigued. “Efficiencies, my lord? A novel concept. I shall prepare the ledgers for your review.”
A demon with translucent skin stepped forward next. I could see swirling patterns of magic moving beneath his skin like luminous tattoos, constantly shifting and reforming. He wore elaborate robes covered in mathematical formulas and made a series of complex hand gestures before speaking.
“Magister Wiggles, Court Sorcerer and Arcane Advisor, at your service, O Master of Darkness,” he announced, his voice surprisingly deep for someone named ‘Wiggles.’ “The Disciples of the Eternal Wiggle stand ready to unleash arcane devastation at your command.”
Oh God. Magister Wiggles. I remembered creating him during a sugar high after consuming an entire package of licorice. The way his magic swirled under his skin had reminded me of wiggly worms, and the name had stuck. I was pretty sure I’d giggled for ten straight minutes while designing his character model.
“Magister Wiggles,” I said, managing to keep my voice steady. “How fare our magical defenses?”
He wiggled his fingers dramatically, creating small sparks of purple energy. “The primary ward matrix remains functional, though at reduced capacity. The secondary thaumaturgic barriers have degraded by approximately forty-two point seven percent. The necro-arcane perimeter alerts are still operational, which is how we detected the heroes’ recent reconnaissance attempts.” He paused, looking hopeful. “With your return, we could perform the Ritual of Eternal Darkness once more. It has been three centuries since the sky burned black with your power.”
Everyone in the hall looked at me expectantly. Clearly, this Ritual of Eternal Darkness was a big deal. Probably notsomething you could fake your way through like that time I pretended to know how to salsa dance at my cousin’s wedding.
“Perhaps once I’ve fully recovered my strength,” I hedged. “I wouldn’t want to attempt such a powerful ritual prematurely.”
Magister Wiggles nodded sagely. “Most wise, my lord. The Sacred Art of the Wiggle teaches patience in all things arcane.”
Next came a female demon with bark-like skin and flowers blooming from her hair. She moved with surprising grace for someone who appeared to be part tree.
“Mistress Pokey, Minister of Agriculture and Resources, my lord,” she announced with a curtsy that made the flowers in her hair release a shower of glowing pollen. “The Twilight Farmlands await your guidance.”
