Author's Note: I really don't know how this happened. One minute this is just the story of a barbarian hero trying to kill Lord Vetinari and him dealing with it in his very special way, and the next it's a multi-chaptered story about Vetinari going all tyrannical and stuff. It's all your fault, you all keep giving me ideas in your reviews!

Anyway, this chapter is because of whoever it was (sorry, I can't remember the name) wondering what Vimes would say about all of it in their review. The concluding part will be posted tomorrow or something.

"Good morning, Commander."

Vimes nodded at the Patrician's secretary as he walked into the waiting room. "If you say so. Is he in?"

"Of course," said Drumknott. "His lordship will be ready to see you in a moment. Would you like to take a seat while you wait?"

Vimes grunted a response and threw himself down on the one of the rickety chairs. Drumknott smiled slightly and lowered his head once more to the paperwork on his desk as the clock in the corner continued in its arrhythmic ticking. Finally a soft whistle came form the speaking tube on his desk. He picked it up.

"Yes, sir?"

"Send Commander Vimes in please, Drumknott."

"Of course, my lord," Drumknott looked up at the Commander and gave him a friendly smile. "His lordship will see you now, Commander."

As the Commander stomped his way into the Oval Office, Drumknott felt himself relax slightly. He didn't know why but whenever he saw Commander Vimes it always put him slightly on edge; it was probably because the man always looked like he was five seconds away from screaming at you.

He picked up his pen as Lord Downey ran into the room.

"I demand to see Vetinari right now!" the Assassin shouted. "The sheer nerve of the man…Right now, you hear me!"

"His lordship is busy right now, Lord Downey," Drumknott replied calmly. "He's currently in a meeting with Commander Vimes."

"I don't care," snapped Downey striding forward towards the door.

Drumknott sighed; the moment he'd been dreading for days had finally arrived. He pulled open a desk drawer and took out a pair of glasses. "Oh, Lord Downey…"

Vimes' eyes widen in horror as he took in the sight of the painting hanging on the wall directly behind the Patrician's head. Oh dear gods…

"So how are things, Vimes?"

"Er…" Vimes blinked and finally managed to tear his eyes away from the portrait. "..They're fine. Yes. Fine."

"Ah."

The Watch Commander visibly shook himself and stared at Vetinari's desk. "Couple of unlicensed thefts, sir, nothing too big though. Oh, and we've got a few more leads on the Terrance murder."

"Capital," said Vetinari. "No doubt your men will have it solved in no time."

"We certainly hope so, sir."

Suddenly there was a crash and a scream from the direction of waiting room. Vimes' head whipped round. "What was that?"

Vetinari smiled. "It's probably just Drumknott, Vimes. I doubt it's anything to worry about; he's probably just testing out some training I had him undertake recently."

"What kind of training?"

Vetinari waved a hand languidly. "Just some…special skills I felt he should learn."

Vimes' eyes flicked up to the portrait again. "Oh."

"Now onto international matters; I've recently had information that the Klatchians are thinking of declaring war against us again, Vimes."

"Sir?"

"Apparently Prince Khufuruh has been locked in his Palace and General Ashal has taken the idea upon himself that successfully invading Ankh-Morpork would allow him to declare himself Seriph. They're still quite angry about how the last war ended."

"So are a lot of the city council, sir."

"Yes, I know," Vetinari sighed. "Of course, the avoidance of vast quantities of bloodshed are something of an affront to those who really believe in the phrase 'death or glory'. However, despite their protestations, which no doubt I'll soon be listening to at great length, I still want to avoid out-and-out war with a country that could wipe us out in hours. We really wouldn't stand a chance in an invasion, Vimes; unless, of course, I was to deploy my Doomsday Device."

Vimes frowned, this was news to him. "Doomsday Device, sir?"

"Oh I know the name isn't very catchy, Vimes but I can assure you it is an improvement on what it used to be called: The-Moving-Mountains-and-Large-Bears-Out –Of-The-Way-And-Making-A-Pretty-Mushroom-Shaped-Cloud Device."

"It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, sir."

"No it doesn't. Anyway, I'd like you and your men to keep an eye on any unrest relating to this threat and to notify me immediately if any should occur. I already have the Device primed and ready to use, just in case."

"But why, sir? If they haven't actually done anything yet--"

Vetinari frowned. "Oh but they have, Vimes. General Ashal has already insulted us with that interview in the Times last week."

Vimes tried to cast his mind back. Was there an interview? He read the Times every day but maybe he'd missed that story; of course he tended to get distracted by yelling at de Worde's latest editorial criticising the Watch. "What did he say, sir?"

"He said, Vimes, that my robes look like a dress."

"Oh," Vimes tried desperately not to grin. "Well they do look a bit like a dress, sir."

Vetinari's eyes narrowed. "No, they do not," the Patrician said in a steely voice. "Besides I would never wear a dress made out of cotton, Vimes. I much prefer a fine silk or taffeta."

Vimes stared at him with his mouth open.

Vetinari smiled. "That was a joke, Vimes."

"If you say so, sir."

"Now," Vetinari shifted slightly in his chair. "I want you to take some men from your Battalions of Law and go and arrest the tea-lady from Maisie's Tea Rooms down on Attic Bee Street, Vimes."

"Battalions of what?"

"Battalions of law, Vimes," said the Patrician with an exasperated sigh. "Do pay attention."

Vimes gave him a wary look. "Why do you want her arrested?"

Vetinari shrugged. "Why not?"

"But there has to be a charge, sir!"

"Make one up then; I know you Warriors of Justice can be rather good at that sort of thing."

"Warriors of--" Vimes shook his head and sighed. "So what are we supposed to do with this tea-lady when we've arrested her?"

"Take her to my Secret Municipal Fortress of Doom and I shall have my Arch-Lieutenant of the Filing Cabinet interrogate her." Lord Vetinari noticed the blank look on Vimes' face and sighed himself. "Take her to the fort of pillows in the Great Hall and give her to Drumknott," he explained slowly.

"But she hasn't done anything wrong, sir." Vimes paused. "At least, not anything that I know of."

"This woman, this--" Vetinari glanced down at some papers on his desk. "—Ethel Woodridge, 73, of 24 Baker Street; she's my arch-nemesis, Vimes. She must be stopped without delay."

"A 73 year old woman is your arch-nemesis…?" Vimes said slowly, trying to let the words sink in. "How exactly?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Vetinari. "But once she's been interrogated thoroughly by my Arch-Lieutenant I shall find out."

"Right…"

"I mean it, Vimes. I believe this Mrs Woodridge to be extremely dangerous. Oh, and be sure to arrest Mr Woodridge as well, I may have to try and seduce him to get him to inform on his wife."

"He's lost it. He's totally lost it."

"Oh, I don't know about that, sir," said Captain Carrot good-naturedly. "Maybe Lord Vetinari has some plan we're not aware of yet."

Vimes grimaced. "Yes, I've heard about that; he kept going on about some kind of Doomsday Device he's planning to use against the Klatchians for calling him a cross-dresser."

"I'm sure it won't come to that, sir."

"Do you know Mrs Woodridge, Carrot?"

"Oh yes, sir. Quite a nice old lady; I'm surprised she would let herself get mixed up in some kind of criminal activity."

"Hmm." Vimes frowned. "Of course if Vetinari has gone completely insane I'll have to arrest him again." He sighed. "Oh gods, think of the paperwork that'll cause."

Carrot stopped. "Here we are, sir; Maisie's Tearooms."

Vimes looked around the small café. He didn't often use the word cosy but it certainly applied here; everything from the doilies on each table to the sweet-looking old woman shuffling up to them in a pair of carpet slippers reminded him of afternoons spent with his granny when he was a little boy.

The old woman smiled up at them both. "Good afternoon, sirs. What can I get you? A nice cup of tea and a biscuit? Or perhaps a nice slice of fruit cake"

Carrot gave her a pleasant smile. "Hello, Mrs Woodridge. We're here on business I'm afraid."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Carrot looked around; Vimes noted that even he looked embarrassed doing this. "Mrs Ethel Woodridge, I'm arresting you on suspicion of...of…" He shot Vimes a panicked look.

"Suspicion of conspiracy to overthrow the Patrician," said Vimes.

The noise level in the room dropped. An elderly man sitting at a nearby table struggled to his feet, finally managing it on the third attempt. "Here, what're you doing to Ethel?"

"Watch business, sir. Nothing to worry about," said Vimes.

"They're trying to arrest me, Roger," said Mrs Woodridge. "They said I'm trying to get rid of Lord Vetinari."

"Ridiculous!" The old man picked up his stick and began to hobble over to the Watchmen. "You leave Ethel alone."

Vimes held up a hand. "Look, sir, this is official Watch business here; so just take a seat and we'll be done in a minute, ok."

"Come on, Mrs Woodridge, this won't take long, please," pleaded Carrot. "We just need to take you to the Palace to have a chat with the Patrician and get this all straightened out."

"I'm not going anywhere, young man!"

"You tell 'em, Ethel," said Roger approvingly. He turned to Vimes. "You leave her alone or I'll be forced to give you a damn good thrashing, sonny!"

He lifted up the stick to hit the Watch Commander with it but knocked himself off balance in the process. Unthinkingly Vimes shot out a hand and grabbed the old man by the collar as he began to topple over.

"Police brutality! Police brutality!" shouted Roger, slapping at Vimes with his free hand.

"Oh, to hell with this," growled Vimes. "Carrot, come on!" He grabbed Mrs Woodridge and the two watchmen lifted her up and pulled her out of the cafe.

"Angua and Sally have already taken Mr Woodridge into custody, sir," said Carrot. "Angua said they didn't have too many problems with him. Well, apart from his insistence that he's a naturist. Wrinkles everywhere, apparently."

"Poor them," murmured Vimes. "What do you think Vetinari wants with this woman anyway? I hardly think she's going to turn out to be a criminal mastermind, do you?"

"I wouldn't like to say, sir."

Drumknott looked up from his desk bleary-eyed. "Hello, Commander, Captain. Is this the woman his lordship was talking about?"

"Yes she is," said Carrot. "Would you like to sit down, Mrs Woodridge?"

"Sod off, copper."

"I think that's a yes, Carrot," said Vimes with a slight smile. He turned back to the secretary. "Look, what exactly does Vetinari want to do with this woman anyway? She—dear gods man, are you okay? You look terrible."

Drumknott tried to smile but gave up halfway. "I'm fine, Commander. It's just that his Lordship has had rather a lot of irate visitors today and I've had to do…some things."

"What kind of things?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know."

Vimes gave Drumknott a wary look. "Ye-e-es, I believe you there. Where is Vetinari anyway?"

"Down in his Secret Municipal Fortress of Doom with the rest of the City Council, Commander; he's trying to convince them to change the Guild names."

"Change them to what?"

Drumknott sighed. "Let's just put it this way this way; he wants to call the Guild of Seamstresses his Harems of the Night."

"Why? I thought he didn't…I mean, he doesn't have…y'know?" asked Vimes with a frown.

"Oh, he doesn't," said Drumknott. "At least as far as I know. But he feels it'll make him appear more evil and tyrannical…or something." He shrugged. "His lordship explained it all but I wasn't really listening; I'm too tired out."

"Tired out from all the…things you've had to do…" said Vimes slowly.

Drumknott glared. "Yes."

"Oh." Vimes decided to move onto a different subject. "Drumknott, has his Lordship's behaviour seemed a little off to you lately?"

"In what way?"

"Well, the giant fort of pillows, the huge naked portrait of himself in his office, changing the names of the Guilds…it's all a bit unusual, isn't it?"

"Is it?" said Drumknott innocently. "I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, come on," said Vimes. "Vetinari called the Watch the Battalions of Law."

Carrot looked up. "Ooh, do you think we'll get new uniforms?"

"Shut up, Carrot. Look, Drumknott, I don't care if he's lost it or whatever, there's no way I'm going to let Vetinari start calling my watchmen Warriors of Justice. People will laugh at us!" Behind him Carrot mouthed his new job title to himself and smiled.

"You think you have it bad?!" Drumknott shrieked suddenly. "Do you know what I've had to do today? Five times?! Mr Boggis kept coming back just so I'd have to do it again!"

Vimes shot the secretary a worried look. "Just calm down--"

"Calm down? How can I calm down? Have you seen the new uniform I've been given?!" Drumknott wrenched open a desk drawer and pulled out a shiny gold bikini. "I've got to wear this, starting tomorrow! And if that wasn't enough, Vetinari wants to chain me to his wrist when we go out in public! Public!!" he screeched. And at that the Patrician's secretary burst into tears and started to bang his head in the table.

Lord Vetinari looked at the faces of the Guild leaders and smiled. "And so with the help of you, my Armies of Darkness, and the power of my Doomsday Device, I have no doubt that we shall be able to defeat the Klatchian threat."

"Yes, about that--" started Lord Downey.

"Yes, Lord Downey, General of my Forces of the Blade?"

"It's just that…well, this is rather--" Downey stopped. "General?"

"A fitting title, don't you think?"

"Yes…" Downey started to grin. "I like that. General. General Downey. Hmm…"

"Capital," Vetinari said. "Any other objections?" One by one the other Guild leaders shook their heads. "Good."

"I have one, my lord."

Vetinari's face broke into a friendly smile. "Mr Slant. Of course. And what would that be, exactly?"

"It's about your secretary, my lord."

"Really?" The door opened and Vimes walked in. "Ah, Commander, no problems I hope?"

Vimes shook his head.

"Excellent. Now, Mr Slant, what is it about my secretary you find so objectionable?"

"Usually there's nothing, my lord. But earlier today I sent one of my clerks to deliver some Guild documents to your office and when he tried to enter your secretary behaved most inappropriately."

"What did he do?"

"I'm not sure, my clerk was extremely traumatized, Lord Vetinari. The only thing he would say were the words 'sexy dance'. Do they ring a bell?" asked Mr Slant.

Mr Boggis grinned. "He didn't like it? I thought it was funny, especially when the secretary started crying on the third go; better than a trip down the music hall."

Vimes shot him a look. "I've always wondered about you…"

Lord Vetinari held up his hand to quiet them. "Gentlemen, Ladies, please. It is true that I have recently had my secretary, Mr Drumknott, undergo some specialized training under Mrs Palm--"

"I bet," whispered Downey. Mr Boggis giggled.

"—and as a result he is now fully prepared to deal with any threats to the privacy of myself or my command centre in a specific way."

"Very specific," said Mr Boggis with a smile. "That bit with the sock…"

Mrs Palm grinned. "He finally managed to get that right, did he? The poor lad had such trouble with the manoeuvre during training."

"Oh no, he still got it wrong," said Boggis. "I just liked the way he'd start swearing when it hit him in the face."