The Dark Lord lay in his bedchambers, his three concubines beside him. Hanna of the Great Swamp and Aegle of Carim were already lying with him, placed underneath his powerful arms and resting against his chest. Karin of Astora was behind his head, combing his long hair and getting rid of the knots present in it. She did so gently and soothingly, only occasionally twitching hard to get rid of a troublesome knot.

Agapetus looked out the nearby window of his chambers, noting the setting sun. He grew melancholy for a moment, remembering words spoken to him not so long ago. He was looking for something in the sky, and he could not see it.

"What troubles you?" inquired the concubine quietly.

He turned away from the window. "Nothing. I just grow tired."

She tugged at his hair, causing him to growl from pain and mild anger.

"Do not lie to me," she said gently but firmly.

He sighed, yet again tamed by his own concubine. "I fulfilled the promise to that old friend I once spoke of."

Karin nodded. "Anastacia. She was a fire keeper was she not?"

"…yes…"

"If that is the case, she could not die as long as that bonfire was lit."

"Correct…"

Karin grew quiet. "You let her die human."

He nodded, closing his eyes in pain. Not pain from his body, pain from his heart. "Damn it. Damn it I miss her so much. She told me she'd always be beside me, but…"

He gripped his heart, grasping at it through his flesh. "But I don't feel her anywhere. I don't feel anyone. I feel so alone."

"But you aren't alone," argued Aegle looking up hurriedly, flashing her bright eyes at him. "We're with you now."

"Yes," agreed Hanna nodding, her eyeless face still showing her determination. "We will never leave you, no matter what you do or what you say, we will always be here to help you. That is our job, our privilege, and…"

Karin leaned forward and kissed him on the lips softly, pulling away a second later. "…and it is our honor."

The other two did so immediately afterwards, filling his body with soothing warmth. He smiled, the pain in his heart temporarily gone. "Thank you. Thank you all. I…I…thank you."

He leaned back, closing his eyes slowly.

"Goodnight My Lord," said Karin smiling into his face. "Rest well. I know we will with you beside us."

"My Lord!" My Lord!" cried Petrus of Lordran barging down the door to his bedchambers, his armor fully intact over his body.

The congregation on the bed screamed in fright and rapidly hid under the covers, for a reason that he figured out in a matter of seconds. The cleric threw his hands over his eyes, embarrassed out of his skull.

"M-m-m-my deepest apologies," he stuttered blushing several different shades of crimson.

Dark Lord Agapetus glared at him, a sheet wrapped around his naked lower body. "You could've knocked you brute. Honestly, this is my bedchambers, and I have three concubines. It doesn't take a man of Vinheim to figure out what I'd be doing this early in the morning."

"I…well…you apparently hadn't done it until now, so…"

"Just get out!" snapped Agapetus irritated. "I'll be out in fifteen minutes! I am sure whatever it is can wait fifteen minutes!"

Petrus nodded and fled the room, glad that he hadn't had some 'wisdom' dropped onto his head for his brazen action.

The Dark Lord shook his head in disbelief, then grinned mischievously as he peeked under the covers. "Now, where were we? Oh right, I think it's Aegle's turn now..."

Dark Lord Agapetus walked out of his bedchambers, a simple black and purple robe thrown over his body. His circlet was placed over his hair, which had been rapidly brushed to fall smoothly down past his shoulders. The Abyss around his eyes was the same size as it was last time, but did not appear to be growing at the moment.

"So what is it?" asked the Dark Lord agitated. "I assume you wouldn't wake me without something major."

"Yes," answered Petrus nodding firmly. "Last night, the armies of Carim and Astora, with reinforcements from Catarina and the Great Swamp, marched on Thorolund. They are rapidly clearing the land and will reach the capital by the end of the week."

Agapetus grinned. His plan was coming together. "Good. Those vagabonds will finally be disposed of."

The cleric coughed awkwardly, being a man of Thorolund himself. A former one at that, but it was still his country of birth.

"Is something the matter Petrus?" asked the Dark Lord coldly, ready to kill him at the slightest sign of insubordination.

Petrus shook his head. "No, well, yes actually. You see, not all of Thorolund is full of righteous clerics and priests. Many of the people are just civilians, farmers and laborers. They…what I'm trying to say is…will I be the last man of Thorolund if your plan succeeds?"

Agapetus laughed. "Sir Petrus, don't be foolish. I have already ordered all the generals not to kill any civilian who surrenders and to simply remove them from their homeland."

The cleric was nervous about the last statement. "What….why remove them?"

"Well it's simple."

The Dark Lord grinned sadistically, showing his inner malice. "We're going to burn the entire country to the ground when we're done and fill the ashes with salt. Nothing will ever grow there again. It will be a testament to those who oppose us."

"My Lord…that sounds…evil."

Agapetus grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground and pushing him into the wall. The cleric was surprised, but even more so stunned by the look of utter hate his Lord gave him in response.

"Don't ever question me," snapped the Dark Lord angrily. "The captured citizens will be added to the New Londo and Burg, with housing and aid provided for the first month until they can integrate into our society."

"But why must my home burn?" countered Petrus. "What is the point?"

"The point, Sir Petrus, is that your homeland is led by upper-class elite who are so blind they cannot even see past their own eyes to see that they are clinging to the most useless bullshit known to man: tradition. Tradition is what scars the heathens of the Great Swamp, or the pointless religious sacrifices of Carim, or even the drunkenness of Catarina and nobility of Astora. All of it, completely and utterly fucking useless."

Petrus's eyes widened. "My Lord…those our…our allies."

"They are pawns," countered Agapetus. "Pawns that we will exploit to rise as kings. This world must be led by one, and that one will be Lordran. I am telling you this since you would understand better than Ingward."

The cleric paused. "Really?"

"Of course. I know you Sir Petrus. You are smart, and know how to deal with change. Ingward is a useful ally indeed, but even he cannot cope with too much change. It is you Sir Petrus, who will be beside me as rulers of this new Age of Dark."

Petrus's eyes filled with visions of himself sitting on a throne, a kingdom of his own under his feet. He pictured himself with a beautiful gold crown, appearing magnificent in splendor above the teeming masses. The Dark Lord saw his greed and pride in those eyes, and he chuckled.

"Getting ideas?" asked Agapetus grinning. "Anything you can think of, and I promise more when this world is ours."

The cleric looked back at him and nodded firmly. "I will join you. Thank you…My Lord."

The Dark Lord smiled and released him, rubbing his sore hands. "Very good. Now, I must head to my throne room. Good day Sir Petrus."

"And to you as well, My Lord."

The cleric walked off, the Dark Lord doing the same. They both held smiles, each for different reasons.

"Oh my. To lie to your best friend, that's bold. I didn't expect that."

"He is not my best friend," argued Agapetus. "He is simply my rook. And like all the other pieces, he can be sacrificed if the need arises."

"He would sacrifice his own home just for a gilded bed. This rook of yours is very greedy. It's almost tragic."

"Petrus is an idiot, and a greedy, gluttonous one at that. But he is useful, and his words manipulate crowds. He will be useful when those new civilians are added to my region."

"Already bringing your conquests under your control? You are playing your hand early."

"This is not a card game, there are no hands. This is chess, and each move brings you closer to your goal: eliminating the competition. Moving with one sweep motion is stupid, the mark of a beginner. A chess expert moves with grace, each step discreet and subtle until the singular strike against the enemy. That is how you win chess."

"Hmm, I never was good with games. No matter. I'll enjoy watching this game of chess, but don't forget that it ends at checkmate."

"I know. And you'll hear it, when my enemies lie in unmarked graves and I build my throne from their tombstones."

"Heh, I like confidence. Good luck, the Dark Lord of Lordran. Or perhaps…the Black King of Lordran. Either applies I guess."