"Ah. So, if you said skywards, it means... downwards! Alexander! We need a shovel!"
"Would have to be a skunking huge shovel."
"Yes! That is what we need!"
"No, you morons. Sky. What colour is the sky?"
"Some sort of... greyish?" Alexander tried.
"No! The sky is blue!"
"If you say so... seems greyish to me."
"And it means...?" the paladin asked. He decided not to guess anymore.
"That there is a village called Blue which you would have know about if you had the slightest idea where you are! You should go there!"
"Oh. You could have said that first."
"No. There are rules. I was supposed to let you try to guess even if I already knew you'd fail horribly. Now begone."
***
The Emperor was chosen, but the fun wasn't over yet. There were formalities that could not be skipped. Well, they probably could be skipped, but not with the Master of Ceremony around. General Roseduck tried to haste things as much as he could, but it didn't amount to much. Each High Lord had to sign the official proclamation, which was relatively sensible. Then each High Lord had to thank the Lord of Light for the divine guidance that had helped with the choice. This wouldn't be too bad, if not for the Earl, who improvised a bit and started to ramble about some weird religious stuff involving a single combat against the Demonic Cow while armed with a red herring on a stick. Roseduck silently asked the Lord of Light to render the Earl mute, or at least kill him, if muting was too much trouble, but nothing happened. As usual. That was why he had lost interest in this whole religion stuff a long time ago.
After the Earl finished his blabbering, it was time for consumption of the Electoral Strawberries. Each lord had one. That was really stupid, but at least didn't take long. Good thing these weren't Electoral Watermelons instead, although the Duke would probably appreciate that more. Finally, the ritual spitting on the Master of Ceremony's feet ensued. They all enjoyed this part. After that it was all over.
"Time for me to take care of the orc problem. Farewell, my lords," Roseduck said.
"You will miss the coronation!" the Master of Ceremony protested.
"Is it a high treason if I miss it?"
"Well... no."
"Then I'm going. Those orcs won't defeat themselves, you know!" He stormed out of the room.
"Wait for me!" the Baron called and followed him.
"And for me!" the Marquis suddenly came to life and ran after them. That left the rest of the lords speechless. They looked at each other in confusion. Count Blueparrot was the first to speak.
"What the skunk just happened?!"
"Who cares?! If they want to commit suicide it's their problem," the Duke replied.
"It seems that orcs are the only thing that can arouse old Shaggysheep."
"You really are an unholy bastard to make such jokes!" the Earl complained.
Philigree just laughed. "That's me!"
"All right, all right, we had our fun," the Duke said. "But we all know what we all are thinking about, and no point in denying... You're running away too, aren't you?"
"Thinoak, you fat coward!" the Count scolded him. "I'm running away after the coronation!"
"Yes, let's pretend that we're not cowards," the Hiwelthadt seconded the idea and started laughing hysterically.
"At least we're not morons," the Duke replied.
"I am neither," Earl Blazingtree said. "The Lord of Light will protect me."
"So you're not going to run away?"
"Of course not! I'm going to change my location according to the divine guidance I will receive."
"Let me guess... this location will be far away?" the Hiwelthadt inquired.
"I think the Lord of Light in all His wisdom would not want me anywhere near an orcish horde."
"Ah. Well, I think he wouldn't want me anywhere near one either, but I think I won't waste his holy time and just flee on my own."
The Earl gave Philigree a look of the likes usually reserved for excrements stuck to a shoe, but the Hiwelthadt just shrugged and started laughing maniacally.
***
The corridor walls were stylishly black, softly illuminated by scarcely placed torches. On the walls there were tapestries depicting fire-breathing dragons, fearsome skeleton warriors, all sorts of demons engaged in all sorts of depravities, and other fun stuff. There were also niches containing full armour sets holding many different wicked-looking killing implements. Someone obviously had put a lot of effort into decorating.
"How romantic," Vannard commented.
"Shut up," the sorceress said. Which obviously caused the exact opposite.
"A perfect location for a date, don't you agree?"
"For an insane maniac like you, maybe."
"You surprise me. I thought you were the one to appreciate such ambience."
"Not enough fire."
"Well, we can remedy that on the way back."
"Also, too many insane maniacs."
"Can't help you with this one."
"Too bad."
They continued in silence. They were deep inside the enemy castle and had neither a map, nor a guide. They both knew where they wanted to go. Neither of them knew how to get there. Neither of them was willing to admit that. Finally, they had to, because they were getting nowhere.
"Why did you have to fry that nice captain before he gave us directions?" Vannard asked reproachfully.
"He was going to raise an alarm, you moron!"
"Yes, so maybe we'd have a few more potential guides..."
"We'd have one if you hadn't killed the last one! Why did you have to kill the last one?!"
"Well... I had a knife... and he was... alive?"
"Bloodthirsty idiot!"
"Ill-tempered pyromaniac."
Fortunately at this point they reached a place where they needed to make a choice. They could go left or they could go right, and neither way looked particularly more promising than the other.
"Split up?" Vannard asked without hesitation.
"Thought you'd never ask."
"In case you miss me, just follow the corpses."
"In case you miss me, just follow the burning and screaming corpses."
"Wouldn't they be running, like, away from you?"
"Exactly. Why would you think I'd like you to find me?"
"You're breaking my heart, Sally."
"I'd fry it if you had one."
"I guess I could cut one out of someone, then you could fry it and we'd share a nice meal."
"So, in addition to being obnoxious and insane now you're disgusting too? Great. Just great."
"Love you too."
***
Five castle guards were sitting in their guardroom around a wooden table. They were supposed to be guarding, but they were playing cards instead. They decided that the castle was safe enough without their help. Nobody would break into it. Nobody would steal it. Yet another hand was reaching its conclusion.
"Llama!"
"Llama!"
"Duck!"
"Duck!"
"Goose!"
"Skunk your goose!"
"Don't skunk my goose you gooseskunker! Who lost? Go see if everything is ok."
Thok got up, mumbled something insulting and left the room. It was his turn to pretend to patrol, because he had just an ordinary llama, while Rugh had a bit rarer striped llama. He returned much sooner than his fellow guards had expected. His eyes were wide open and he seemed to be trying to say something, but he failed and just moved his mouth like a fish.
"Thok? Yalright?"
The guard just pointed at the door. Now all the guards were staring at the doorway. The reason for that was simple. The most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen was standing in the doorway. It didn't mean all that much, because they hadn't seen all that much in their lives, but still. She was tall and slender. A keen observer perhaps would notice from her facial expression that she seemed rather annoyed, but all
the keen observers around were busy staring somewhere else.
"Can any of you point me towards that dark lord of yours?" she asked. "Your friend here seems to have forgotten how to talk."
Unfortunately for them, they didn't forget.
"Blzzzzsft!" one of them blurted.
"I am the dark lord!" the other declared.
"I'm a darker lord!"
"Is it getting hot in here? Drop the robes, baby!"
It was getting hot in there indeed. Mainly because of the sorceress' fury. Unlike other people, who could burn with fury only on the inside, she radiated it outside. She was very, very annoyed. After spending way too much time around Vannard she just ran into someone even worse. A few someones, even. Rude, drooling simpletons.
"Hey, cheer up, cutie!"
This was the last straw.
"DIEEEEEEE!!!" the sorceress screamed, and fire burst from her fingers. She was blind with rage, not seeing what she was doing. She didn't need to. The flames were everywhere. The guards were screaming, the sorceress was screaming, even the walls were screaming. It lasted for just a moment, and then there was silence.
She felt better. Much better. She needed that. She should have done something like that a long time ago. But now back to business. She realised she was lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Time to open them and get up. She did so.
What just a moment ago had been a perfectly good guardroom now was... a perfectly good burned guardroom. Whatever had been flammable, was burned to cinder. Including the guards. The walls were radiating heat. The floor... There was a huge hole melted in the floor.
"Wow. I didn't know I could do that," she said to herself with a mixture of awe and fear. Then she smiled. "I must be some sort of awesome now." She looked into the hole. It led to the lower level. Since the dark lord was supposed to be somewhere in the dungeon, it was the right way to go. A shortcut, even. She jumped down.
***
Mevrin Oxrabbit, or Emperor Mevrin the First as he was now known, was feeling a bit lost. Not long ago he was a perfectly normal young noble: throwing food at servants, throwing servants at food, throwing servants at other servants... Then a message came that he was to be the next Emperor. That was quite a surprise. He had heard something about death of the previous one, it would be rather hard to miss that. He knew nothing about the electoral process and had no idea he was a candidate. In truth, he had been told he was a candidate, but he got distracted by a maid carrying a stuffed albatross and he forgot.
His first question when he got the message was why did they pick him. The answer was obvious. His uncle must had beaten them until they did. The second question was what to do next. Going to the capital to assume the position was an obvious thing to do, therefore it took only about half an hour for his nanny to persuade him to do that. The other thing was more difficult.
"I'm not going to learn any silly oaths!" he said maybe for the hundredth time.
"Yes you are, dearie," his nanny replied patiently.
"No, I'm not! I'm the Emperor and I do how I please!"
"You are not the Emperor yet, dearie. You need to learn the oath to become the Emperor, so be a good boy and learn it."
"No! No no no no ow! Ow ow ow!" The nanny apparently decided that basic persuasion failed here, so she began enhanced persuasion. It consisted of hitting Mevrin repeatedly on the head with her wooden spoon. "Ow! Ow! Stop that!"
"I will not stop until you agree to learn the oath."
"Ow! I'll order you beheaded! Ow! Ow! Stop hitting me! Ow! Ow! All right, I'll learn your stupid oath!"
"Now that's a good boy," the nanny said and stopped hitting him. "The oath and the Virtues of the Good Emperor and the Emperor's Prayer..."
"I'm not learning those stupid five virtues!" Mevrin protested yet again. "Ow!"
"Six virtues, dearie."
"Too many of them!"
"An Emperor needs a lot of virtues, dearie."
"Is beheading nannies one of them?"
Nanny consulted her list. "No dearie. But humility is."
"That carps. Ow!"
"Good manners are there as well, dearie."
"Ow! Ow! All right! I'll learn... uh... whatever number of virtues it was."
"Six, dearie. And the Emperor's Prayer."
"I don't need no stupid prayer! Ow!"
"Yes you do, dearie."
"Why?"
Nanny shrugged. "I don't know. That's just the way it is, dearie. The Emperor needs the Emperor's prayer."
"What good does knowing it do?"
"It stops me from hitting you on the head, dearie."
"Ow! Ow! All right!"
***
The dungeon was very similar to the ground floor, just some of the decorations were different. A bit less tapestries, a bit more shackles. A skull here and there. Not as many torches, so it was darker and more foreboding. Saalteinamariva didn't care. She was drunk with her own power.
It didn't take her long to find the door. It wasn't just any ordinary door: big, double-leaf, and plated with metal. Not simply plated either, the metal was engraved with many characters and scenes. The sorceress didn't look at it too much, but she appreciated the burning elephant trampling the burning dwarf. She knew these had to be the door to the residence of the dark lord. It was time to open them. By opening them she meant going few steps back and hitting them with a stream of fire. The door wasn't flammable, but the sheer force of the stream made it open.
She waited a moment. Nobody came out, nobody screamed. She entered.
"You could have knocked," a somewhat raspy and sinister voice said. There was a figure clad all in black lurking in the shadows. Almost all in black. There were a few intensely violet, strategically placed skull sigils on its robes.
The sorceress wasn't impressed. "It was open," she said, disdain in her voice. "Dark Lord Abracabrachupacabra, I presume?"
The dark lord turned around abruptly, as if bitten by an invisible hamster. He looked at his unwelcome visitor. "You!" he pointed at her and shouted in anger. He didn't sound that darklordly anymore.
"Me?" she asked, surprised. Then she summoned a small ball of fire just to illuminate the room. Light fell upon the cloaked man's face. "You!" Her anger returned at once. She recognised the man. She knew him all too well. He was one of the Imperial Wizards. They used to hate each other very much. That didn't mean that much, because the same could be told about her and probably every other Imperial Wizard, mainly because the Imperial Wizards disapproved of female mages, and she disapproved of those who disapproved of female mages.
In this particular case it was more than that. They both were studying in the Tower of Wizards, years ago. Saalteinamariva had been barely accepted in first place. As the first female ever. Unfortunately, what transpired next convinced the wizards that female mages were a very bad idea. Basically, he tried to seduce her. To make it worse, he did it badly, because wizards usually know next to nothing about seduction. After some awkwardness she ended up thrown out of the Tower, and he ended up having his face reconstructed. And here he was now, posing as some sort of dark lord...
"We meet again," the dark lord said, calm and composed again.
"Indeed," the sorceress replied. "After all these years. I've been looking forward to this."
"You were?"
"No, not really. But it sounded like a good thing to say."
"You mean you've forgotten about me?"
"Well, sort of, yes. You know, life is short, and there are so many interesting things to burn down..."
"All right. With pleasantries out of the way, to what do I owe your visit?"
"The general idea was to put you on fire, and I think I'll go forward with that."
"That's what I was afraid of. Guards!" He looked expectantly at the other door. Nothing happened. "Guards!"
The door opened slowly. A guard appeared. He didn't look too lively.
"What is wrong with you?!" the dark lord demanded.
The guard toppled forwa
rd. "Surprise! He's dead!" Vannard jumped out of the door and said with fake cheerfulness. "Missed me?"
"I did not," the sorceress replied.
"Your boyfriend?" the dark lord asked. That question startled both of them.
"Not really," Vannard responded. "But we have an interesting hate-hate relationship."
Saalteinamariva sighed. "Let's end this absurdity, shall we?"
"Not just yet. Emergency guards!"
This time the call was answered. Yet another door opened and two dozens of guards emerged. They were armed similarly to those they met before, but Vannard noticed that these moved somewhat differently. More like seasoned warriors than like simple townsfolk with spears.
"Fire!" the dark lord shouted. The guards fumbled for their bows and arrows.
"You want fire? I aim to please," Saalteinamariva said. Flames erupted from her hands.
***
The coronation was a sad affair. It was being held in the Grand Hall, as the funeral had been before, but this time the Hall wasn't even filled in half. The news about the orcish invasion had already spread and most of the townsfolk were bright enough to know that the capital was one place that the enemy was unlikely to pass. Furthermore, the Imperial Castle was a place in the capital that the enemy was unlikely to pass. On the other hand, some came to a different conclusion. The Imperial Castle would be the most heavily guarded place around. They went to see the coronation with hopes to hide somewhere afterwards. Or during. Or before.
The soon-to-be Emperor seemed dazed and confused by all of this. He had no idea why hardly anyone was cheering. He knew there was supposed to be a lot of cheering at the coronation. A lot of shiny things too, and... why was that peasant trying to squeeze himself inside a vase?!
Strange activities of some of the spectators weren't Mevrin's only worry. He had some wardrobe trouble too. He wore a splendid purple cloak, but it was giving him a nasty itch and he was fidgeting and scratching his neck. He wore a gold necklace with which he was playing all the time. To make it even worse, his jewelled shoes were too big and that caused him to stumble quite a bit when he was moving around. Overall, he didn't look too Imperial, but that was far from the worst thing about this coronation.
Three High Lords were missing. Four were present, but they weren't dressed nearly as splendidly as they normally would on such occasion. Their clothes and behaviour somewhat gave a hint and they might run out of the hall any second. Or wobble hastily in the Duke's case. Additionally, Philigree was giggling like a madman all the time, which got him some annoyed looks from the Master of Ceremony. He made nothing of it. The Duke and the Count were either arguing or pretending the other one wasn't there. That still wasn't the worst part.