Unconscious for the most part, the Warlocks were carried back to my Dungeon by my ever reliable brigade of Imps, while the only conscious member of the rescued party was alert, walking several paces behind me. He was fully aware that he and his fellow researchers had just been rescued from an extremely gruesome fate, and while he processed that particular piece of information, I found myself doing an analysis of him. He looked, well, relatively human, something like the heroes in terms of height and build but it was the mouth that gave him away as being something else. His teeth were more like knives, all of them having been broken or perhaps sharpened or filed to razor like points. A massive creature that stood somewhat taller than me, but it was his stride that took up the most of my attention. You would expect a mountain to move with the strong, firm strides, but he took small, almost mincing steps, tiptoeing along as fast as he could to keep pace with myself and Gazz, and doing an admirable job in keeping up.
He was not one for ceremony and fanfare, something which I have always had a personal dislike for. Pomp and ceremony on certain occasions has its places and uses but for the most part, it does nothing but get in the way. His self-introduction was brief and to the point and made it clear that he was indebted to our Keeper and would be honored to serve, as would his fellow researchers – if any of them survived their ordeal thus far and rejoined us in the land of the living. Gazz wore a slightly bemused smile – or what passed for a smile when you've got a mouth filled with dagger like teeth and the ability to project a cone of flame that measures over seven feet in length and three meters at its widest point and gave me a look. I admit that I don't know many dragons, but he is indeed one that I do like, partly for the fact that he is dedicated to my cause, but also due to the fact that he has a dry caustic wit. Gazz provided plenty of reassurances that the Keeper was extremely interested in meeting him as soon as possible.
I should take a moment to clarify just how the Keeper's Hand actually works with regards to transporting, well, people and my warriors. It's not something along the lines of a magic carpet, but more akin to teleportation. Over short distances, especially within the confines of the Dungeon itself, the Hand is an instantaneous way of moving around and getting to places literally in the blink of an eye. For distances that extend beyond the boundaries of the Dungeon to the uncharted wastelands beyond, it takes somewhat more time. Simply put, the farther you intend to travel from the Dungeon Heart, provided that you are staying within the same land, the longer the trip takes. But cutting down several hours of traveling to mere minutes is still a great improvement. It's one of the advantages that the Darkness and Keepers possess that allows us to defend our underground empires which can stretch for miles in any direction without actually leaving a single land. And when you have multiple territories, the ability to move between them rapidly makes it very easy to keep them all pacified and under control as these heroes do not understand when to surrender, when they have been conquered and that their holy crusades and jihads have failed them. But I can also understand, and to a slight degree respect, such stubbornness and sheer gutsy determination. I would not know how to surrender and acknowledge defeat either.
With the Dungeon serving as my base of operations in any given land that I have conquered or am in the process of conquering, my imps are always hard at work. I make it a point to keep them working as there is truth to the old adage, that "an idle mind is the devil's workshop," and that "idle hands with an idle mind are the allies of the devil." Granted, my imps could not exactly get up to much in the way of mischief simply because most of them actually lack the necessary intelligence to get in to trouble. Most of my Imp population is smart enough to stay busy, carrying out the orders and tasks ordained by their Keeper. It is better than being left to the not so tender mercies of my various minions, who have been known, on occasion, to swat or eat an imp just to pass time.
Granted, with the quantity of work that I had my imps performing, I always made it a point to dust off whatever I could to help them. The primary gain in that regard had been the development of their minds – not too much, but just enough to allow them to use some of the mana latent within them to use a spell that quadrupled their movement rates, reflexes and all round dexterity. Granted its effects over the long term would culminate in exhaustion and eventual death but using it in short bursts would be unlikely. And besides, as Keeper, mana is one thing that I always have plenty off. That development was of course was not just mental. They had to be trained up to a certain "skill level" to ensure that they would not disintegrate when trying to use the spell. It was something that Gazz and I had been discussing before we had been interrupted with word of the Warlocks being transferred. I planned to get back to that as soon as possible. But first, we would have to secure this realm by butchering the Lord of the Land like a prized hog.
It would be nice if you could actually see these words in their original form, the words taking share upon the pages, my thoughts becoming words that you can read out there. I've not forgotten that this is a tale about me and my conquests. But you must also understand that since you're reading this, my conquest was less than successful, in that I never did conquer every land in this world. But I did manage to return home, else you would not be reading this. I can almost hear you wanting the answer to that particular question, which I will get to in good time.
Progressing through the rooms and passages of my domain, I shot Gazz a look, and he gave me the slightest of nods in return. Working with this particular creature is, admittedly, rather a pleasure. It reminds me of some of those TV series I used to watch, back when catching the next episode was an important thing. The image rather comical to me, as I was the Mafia Don with the slightest of gestures, facial expressions or hand signals, and that thing, whatever that thing could possibly be, would be done personally by Gazz and I would have no reason to actually check if it had been done. Gazz, my right hand Dragon is also the one with the most to gain should I have an "accident." I trust him; I just don't trust him that much. Face it. Would you?
Gazz had led the now conscious group of Warlocks on a tour of the Dungeon, giving them a brief but very informative tour of the Dungeon in this realm, also passing through the principal assignments of my entire Imp brigade for the coming few hours. They were busy hacking through the rough rock and loamy earth to create the cavern that would soon become a massive Library for the use of these Warlocks. Unfortunately for me, I had yet to have a Prison available, for it would have been far simpler to toss them in there, let starvation do its magical tricks until they broke and joined me. Not having a prison meant having to actually be nice and charming for a little while. If they wanted to leave at this moment I would have one of them executed to make a point. If the rest of them still tried to leave, I would have them all massacred. If you are not working for me, then you are a part of my problem.
But I'm glad to say that Gazz has yet to fail me, as they were more than a little impressed with what they had seen of just this one Dungeon – which is but a mere outpost of my empire. Suffice to say that they were suitably impressed and took the few moments to commune with my Dungeon Heart. It was one of a few heartwarming and truly gratifying moments for me, watching them glow with a fiery red outline for just a few short seconds, before their robes, once trimmed subtly with white, took on the black and gold colors of my battle standard. When I emerged from the Dungeon Heart, somewhat cleaner than I was before, especially without the blood and entrails of numerous heroes decorating my weapons and also my clothes, the look upon the face of the Warlock leader was an interesting mix of disbelief, curiosity and confusion, coupled also with a look that bordered on lust to learn more about me.
Keepers are not supposed to have some form of physical body – and I am certain that my body is actually real and that it also works like any other form. Fortunately, one of the advantages of being Keeper is the gift of near instant regeneration after a short sojourn within the Dungeon Heart. The minor nicks, scrapes, bumps and bruises all fade away. I've yet to suffer any kind of injury that has proven to be disabling but I knew that I would actually feel one of those wounds in the, not to distant, future. Now one of my warriors, Drahuliska's mind was like an open book to me, currently running over some of the established facts regarding Keepers - namely the one that read: "When called and created by the Darkness, the Keeper is bound, an ethereal spirit confined to the Dungeon Heart, where they must remain, less their life essence dissipates and the death of the Dungeon follows. The Heart is the chamber the gives and binds a Keeper to serve in life, till death claims them."
The regular rules definitely do not apply to me. I gestured for him to enter the inner sanctum, where there were certain matters that had to be addressed. Gazz followed him close behind, the doorway fading back in to the side of the Heart Chamber. Gazz sank to the floor in his regular space, next to the fireplace and was curling his lengthy spine encrusted tail around him – no doubt to savor the warmth. I had found that by giving him these small and rather limited pleasures he worked better and fought harder for me. The interior of the Dungeon Heart is not actually all that large but simple magic had allowed me to distort the temporal plane within that allowed what on the outside appeared to be nothing more the a five foot by five foot heart shaped space to actually contain a very comfortable three and if I so decided, as many room space as I would like.
The puzzlement was almost enjoyable to watch, as Gazz reached out with a claw like hand to grasp his usual bottle from the rack of "privileges" that I had taken the liberty of liberating from the liquor collections of the lands that I had brought under my control. The liquors are no doubt some of the finest in this world. I refer to the rack as my private rack of plunders that is available, as a reward to those that earn the privilege. I nodded to Drahuliska and he took a moment, drawing upon the mana within the air to draw himself a chair that took a moment to hover in midair before levitating to the carpeted floor, landing with a gentle thud, before sliding to where he wanted. Finally satisfied with the placement of the chair, he sat down, nervousness and uncertainty showing in his eyes. It was clear that the gears in his mind were grinding for a solution but finding no traction.
I decided to let him stew for a few minutes, just to see whether he would break under pressure. I suppose you could call this an interview of sorts, to determine if the Inner Circle of the Black Flame would expand to include a Master Researcher. The chair seemed to mold itself to his shape and form and the encyclopedia within me opened for a moment, providing me with the incantation that would create a chair that conforms to the shape of the caster to ensure maximum comfort for him or her. I made a note to try that spell some time. It's true that you can do quite well without the bare necessities if you have the little luxuries. But he was done with the calculations in his head, and finally made eye contact with me, "Master Keeper, I thank you for your timely rescue of myself and my fellow researchers," his hesitation made it clear that he had something that he wanted to ask. I knew exactly what he wanted to ask, and I let him proceed with his question, "Clearly, you have quite a saga to tell, may I inquiry as to the nature of it?"
I chuckled, even as I raised my glass, and extended to him, "All that I know, I will tell you, but it is a longer," what was the word, "saga than many you might have heard."
He accepted the glass with small smile, "I have read some of the finest sagas in existence, and though long, the reading has always been most rewarding."
I nodded to Gazz and he proceeded to pour me another measure of my own personal favorite. It's expensive stuff, whatever the hell it is. I can't pronounce the name of it to save my life. The scene could have been something from a scripted comedy show, or the beginning of a really bad joke… two men walk into a bar, and the Dragon bartender turns around and says… you get the idea right?
"A tale for a tale however," I replied, "Guests before hosts after all." And people say I can't do nice. However, I wanted to hear a little bit about this the background of this new warrior. He was undoubtedly human, and a refugee from the lands above, one who had willingly turned to the Darkness. Every person has secrets and other matters that they would rather keep private, instead of have published for the entire world to know, and knowing the background of my soon to be Head Librarian and Master Researcher would be very useful.
"I was originally from the lands above. I was, in the eyes of that particular world, a no one, with neither the money to buy my way in that world, or from a family of the appropriate political standings to gain anything in life," his eyes were somewhat glazed, as he clearly relived the memories of his early and no doubt paltry hand to mouth existence, "I knew that I would amount to nothing and that there was no service nor deed that I could do that would give me the opportunity to escape the squalor that I lived in."
He raised his glass, letting the reflections from the fire dance in the deep amber green liquid before taking a short sip of it, obviously enjoying its texture, and no doubt the flavor of it. It was indeed a good substitute for my drink of choice – far smoother and definitely better in terms of taste and palatability, "A drink such as this, I would never have been able to even stare at, because it would mean having to sneak to the parts of the city where the guards were armed, and authorized to "kill" should the situation warrant it." He sighed, as I shot Gazz a look, one eyebrow raised. He saw my expression and it communicated the question that he should ask, "What is the name of the land of your birth?"
"Sleepiburgh," was the quietly whispered reply. His voice strengthened as he continued, "I had parents and while life was hard, we were a family… a happy family that toiled from dusk to dawn in the simple harshness of the peasant way of life. We were happy, until one day the Royal Guards came to my home," he paused for yet another sip before he continued his tale, but it was with cold venom and hatred in his voice, "They came and they destroyed my family – murdered my mother when she tried to stop them from taking my father. My father was innocent of the crimes he was charged with. He stole none of the things or killed any of the people that they said he had. My mother already lying dead upon the floor, the sword having pierced her heart, as they knocked my father to ground, a foot resting upon his spine."As he looked up at me, smiling lightly despite the situation, the soldiers hacked his head from his shoulders."
I tapped my forefinger twice, and Gazz asked yet another question, "And they spared you?" the question had to be asked, if for no other reason to clarify the situation as to whether we have someone with mastery of the double cross.
"I was…in hiding beneath the bed in our simple home, but when they killed my family, they killed everything that was human within me," his hand had clenched around the glass, his grip, driven by rage and anger had turned his knuckles white, "Vengeance will be mine, and I will assist any and all who wish to overthrow those who live in the world above to gain my vengeance," the glass within his hand cracked and shattered, spraying the amber liquid around the room, several drops striking the hearth, causing the flames to leap for a moment, the shards of glass reflecting the anger within the fire, mirrored within the Warlock's soul, "Not just one, but all of them. I will have my revenge against them all!"
I smiled inside, Drahuliska would be very easy to control. So long as he had heroes and innocents to maim and kill he would more than happy to serve. I was still curious about his teeth, but I felt that was a minor detail, best overlooked. His honesty and candidacy deserved an equal amount of respect, as a sign of trust or more along the line of mutual respect. Trust is not something that you build easily in my line of work, but suffice to say that my story, when I told him was one that raised both the eyebrows upon the Warlock's forehead – from the details of my first arrival and conquest of Eversmile to the conquest of several other realms within this world. Drahuliska possessed a sharp mind, and his intelligence was unquestionable as he posed his first question, "You come from your own world and you seek a way to return home. And no doubt you have already tried negotiating with these so-called heroes?"
I nodded to him, "They don't want anything to do with me, apart from adding my head on a pike to the collection of the skulls on a pike that decorate the trophy rooms of more than one of these accursed Lords." The smile was simple and he was making a point that he knew that I had tried going within the boundaries of the law before going, for lack of a better phrase, outside the law to try and find a way home. I paused for a moment, acknowledged the quietly presented message – from an Imp - that the Library was nearing completion, "I have an extensive list of confiscated titles, tomes, scrolls and books that I believe you will have an interest in placing with the Library, in accordance with your specifications?"
His eyes widened, in almost unsurpassed delight at the thought of having the contents of so many different libraries, a vast store house of plundered knowledge available to him, and his cadre for their research – one of his key tasks would of course be researching a way for me to get home – but I'm not stupid enough to think that would be one of his top priorities. I will need to find the proper levers to motivate him directly for those ends, but that will come with time, "By your leave Keeper, I have a great deal of research and work to do, especially since the Library is nearing completion, and I would like to supervise the placement of your entire collection for the ease of myself and my cohorts."
"Indeed, but I have a special project for you and your fellow researchers to begin work on." He was clearly intrigued as I stood and drew my matching blades, Sange and Yasha, "As effective as swords are, I am wondering if it would be possible to create a weapon that could channel the explosive force of say, charged mana, in powdered form, down the length of the blade to increase the destructive potential of a sword."
He looked intrigued by the challenge that I had laid before him, "It would be theoretically possible, but the metallurgical skill required to construct such a weapon is beyond me, Master Keeper. You would require a workshop and the necessarily skilled warriors to aid in its construction."
I had suspected as much, "Begin your work with your cohorts, and for the time being, focus upon my weapon project. Design is key for now, manufacturing such a blade shall be my concern." I nodded to him, and with a thought, the Dungeon Heart's wall parted, revealing the outside world to him. He left without a shallow bow, robes whirling around him as he almost ran from the Heart: I swear that he was borderline salivating over what needed to be arranged and organized in his new library.
He had one foot out the door when I bound him to the service of the Black Flame, "Serve loyally, Master Researcher, and when the time comes the Lord of Sleepiburgh will be yours to do with as you wish." I did not need to see his face, but I saw the stiffening in his back and shoulders as I gave him my word, "The Keeper's Word, is the Keeper's bond, and thus it is law." I could not see his face but I knew that his loyalty was mine; I'll stick to my end of the bargain, so long as he sticks to his. Otherwise... well I'd have to stick something sharp and shiny in to him won't I?
For now, all I have to do is get my forces trained up and wait for the coming attack – not that they need much in the way of training considering the number of heroes they have recently butchered. Most of them are actually itching for another fight. The heroes would be coming for me, and the few of the Giant Flies that I still have in my employ were buzzing around with the sole purpose of acting as advanced warning for the incoming attacks.
The heroes were always determined to make a name for themselves as "heroes." They would not sit idly behind their fortifications and walls, waiting for me to come to them. Heroes being what they are, they would be out hunting me in short order, especially once word gets around that those Warlocks are now free to go on a rampage once again. That makes my job a whole lot easier, especially when the man I have to kill to conquer this land is actually amongst those massed ranks and sticks out like a sore thumb on account of some very highly polished armor, and also considering that he is the only man who I judge to be a worthy opponent that can wield a sword with any kind of efficiency.
I'm looking forward to this.
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