A/N: Sorry for the loooooooooooooong update. I plan on getting back on schedule, but I lost my original manuscript, so I had to rewrite chapter 5 and onwards from scratch. Enjoy. R and R please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Overlord. Only Hanson.
Chapter V: Taxation without Representation
Hanson, his small army of minions in tow, strode up the main road of Littlebrook Village, nefarious plans forming in the young man's mind.
The first farm the party came across looked quite wealthy, with several buildings, well-kept fields, and what looked like a fresh coat of paint on everything. Father and sons worked in the fields while the women cooked and cleaned. It was simple, honest work, and Hanson was struck by memories of his life in the cold Northlands, felling trees as a woodcutter. Nostalgia raced through the young man's heart. No! Hanson thought. I left that life behind. No longer shall I be bound by meaningless attachment.
While Hanson was locked in a mental battle with himself, an elderly woman, probably the mother of the family, stepped out onto the porch and hit a pot with a spoon while shouting "breakfast!" The resulting cacophony was more than enough to rouse Hanson from his thoughts. "Wait here," he told his minions. "I shall summon you soon." The minions settled in the shade of the tree, relaxing, but ready to respond to their master's call.
As the elderly farmer and his sons were making their way towards the main house, Hanson walked to the main gate, armor rattling, and knocked three times, each blow shaking the gate. The old man motioned his sons to continue and shuffled towards the gate. When he reached it, the elderly farmer opened the gate slightly and poked his head out. Hanson's left arm shot out, grabbing the old man by the throat and lifting him into the air.
"Whaddya want?" the farmer chocked out, his feet dangling three feet above the ground. He grasped at Hanson's armored hand, kicking feebly. Sweat pored down his face, staining his tunic. "The Overlord has come for his due." Hanson replied tonelessly. "You have grown rich on His lands, and now the time has come to thank your Lord for His generosity." "We don't owe Him anything," the farmer gasped out weakly. "All that we have we got through hard work and dedication," he declared. "Foolish old man, you owe the Overlord EVERYTHING! He keeps the brigands suppressed and trouble away from your village. Now, hand over your gold or I will slaughter your family, burn your farm down and leave you to live out your life in wretched misery!" Hanson spat, unaware that in the recesses of his helmet his eyes began to glow a malicious and violent red. "I'll do as you say m'lord," the farmer gasped out. The young Overlord released his grip on the man's neck, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground. Far away, Gnarl closed his eyes and chuckled to himself in satisfaction. "You'll do just fine Hanson…"
At the gates of the farm, Hanson summoned his minions and followed the stumbling farmer inside the main house. There, the farmer and his entire family brought out bags of gold while bowing at the same time. Hanson motioned for his minions to pick up the gold, and walked out of the house, laughing to himself. His anger had long since faded, and he found the farmers' display amusingly pathetic. Pausing, the former woodcutter pulled out a map, debating which farmer's day and pants he ought to ruin next.
Gnarl sat near the Tower Portal, gazing into its depths. The time allotted for gold collection was very nearly up, and as he scanned each champion, he found that three of the four had completed their objective. "Champions," the Minion Master announced, "your time is up!" Gnarl made an arcane symbol and pulled all four back to the Tower.
Hanson was felt dizzy and lost from the swift teleportation. It took almost all of his self control to not vomit. He reached out and steadied himself on the wall, noticing that the other champions were in similar positions.
"I have made my decision," the Overlord announced without preamble as he entered the Throne Room. "The Red and Black champions will remain here to decide who is truly worthy of being my heir a week from now in single combat!" As Gnarl escorted the two other champions out, the Overlord sat on his throne and addressed Hanson and the Black champion directly. "You have made it this far, and I applaud you. However, only one can be my heir. A week from now, the two of you will engage in single combat to the death in the dungeon. Feel free to modify your weapons and armor as you wish. That is all." Hanson and the Black champion bowed to the Overlord and retreated, casting apprising looks at one another. Both were of similar height and physical build, and the armor they wore granted a large degree of anonymity. Finally, they nodded their mutual respect to one another and went their separate ways.
Inside of the dwarven tunnels, William looked around in awe at the domed ceilings of the hallway he was in. The Paladin King could not believe that the dwarves had carved out such an extensive realm right under the mountains. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Goldo asked, smiling. "Well beyond all expectations my friend," William replied. As the combined army moved, William noticed that the air became fresher until he emerged into bright sunlight. "Well," Goldo said, tugging at his belt, we've arrived at the outskirts of Evernight. "We are one step closer to our goal then," a voice said. Oberon Greenhaze emerged from the undergrowth with a battalion of elven rangers. "We have come to accompany you on your noble quest," the tall elf said with a sweeping bow. "We would be glad to guide your force through our forest to the Evil One's realm." William nodded in satisfaction. "That would be most welcome, but how soon would we arrive?" "If we continue at your current speed, a week," Oberon replied.
Hanson looked up at the stone ceiling of his chambers and let out a sigh of frustration, dropping his quill onto the table. The desk before him was covered in just about every book he could find on weaponry in the Overlord's library. Sighing again and rubbing his temples, Hanson stood up and paced across the room to the window. The Red minions were at their usual station, chucking fireballs at passing birds, filling the air with the smell of roast chicken. Smiling slightly at the distraction, Hanson noticed something moving out of the corner of his eye. The young overlord whirled around, but saw nothing. Tugging at his three-day beard, Hanson walked over to the desk and noticed that someone or something had placed a book there. He leaned forward and read: Weaponizing Alchemy: A study in the use of explosives. Hanson opened the book and let himself be lost in its knowledge.
Deep in Evernight forest, the army of the anti-Overlord coalition marched on trails that even experienced trackers would have a hard time following. "Oberon," William said. "I can't help but notice that we seem to be taking the long way through the forest towards the Overlord's realm" "That is true," the elf replied. "A great Evil lurks in the darkest part of the forest, an Evil we are currently trying to rid ourselves of." The elf looked pained just mentioning whatever dwelled in the darkness, and William decided to not press the matter.
Deep within Evernight, a company of elven rangers were attempting to root out the Evil that Oberon had spoken of. "Run!" The captain had shouted to Eulaerin, the newest member of their company. "Warn the othe-" was all the captain managed to get out before a shadowy being appeared and speared him through the chest. "Run back to your ruler, little elf…Tell your pathetic people that their days are numbered," the Shadow spat. Eulaerin took the Shadow's advice and ran.