The Dark Lord of Crafting

Walking around the fortress with Orobas was a surreal experience. He’d threatened my family, imprisoned me, bound me in a magical contract, and his explicit goal was turning Plana into something objectively worse than what it was. I had every reason to hate him, but I didn’t. The demons interested me. Being around them felt like observing an obscure natural phenomenon.

“Gremory ignores Kevin,” Bojack said, his sandals lightly tapping on the floor of the stone hall. “He entered Plana already aware that he was not the Dark Lord.”

“Why didn’t you get him out of the cell?” I asked.

“I prefer to have the other harbingers see you as the ultimate authority here, rather than as my reluctant appendage. They will be less likely to doubt your commitment to Discord.”

Bojack had placed a small desk at the end of the tunnel connecting the fortress to the cube, perpendicular to the opening. It came with what appeared to be a stone birdbath he was using as a stool. The desk was plain, and a leather-bound journal rested on its surface. If there hadn’t been more important things going on, I would have been extremely curious about its contents, but I had a new demon to meet.

Kevin’s cell was a diamond enclosure within a much larger stone cube. The single torch placed atop the cell was meant to prevent any mobs from appearing inside with the former dark lord. Up to this point, the torch had done its job. The cell wasn’t completely without shadow, but there shouldn’t have been anything large enough for a mob to use to slip through, let alone a full demon.

An air gap separated the cell from the entrance to the cube, which meant I had to lay down a bridge whenever I wanted to talk to Kevin and pick it up again when I left. I interrogated Bojack as I crafted the path.

“How did he spawn in the cell?”

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” The demon replied, “It shouldn’t have been possible.”

“Don’t play with me, man. How did it happen? This is a security risk.”

Bojack sat on his stool, resting one muscular arm on the edge of the desk. “Our material forms are more malleable than those of the lesser entities, who have no say in their appearance. A harbinger also has the will and presence necessary to widen a small gap in the veil sufficiently to pass through, though it would be costly to do so. We take out opportunities to cross when they come.”

Did that mean the normal precautions against spawns went out the window when it came to demons? Even if they could appear in a smaller patch of darkness than a zombie, a completely illuminated space would still be out of bounds. It was something to take into account when I crafted shelters.

Looking at the cell, I didn’t immediately see the demon. Kevin was standing dead center behind the wall facing us, blocking my view of what had to be the smallest harbinger yet. Short enough that it could hide behind the former dark lord. I saw the hem of a robe, a slim shoulder. Gremory wasn’t a fighter then, the opposite end of the physical spectrum from Bojack.

“Are you telling me you chose to have a horse’s head?”

“In Bedlam, I would appear to you as a great stallion with hooves of stone. Human appendages are useful, however, so I made this body to suit my convenience.”

I still wasn’t as fast with the storage ring as Kevin would have been, and I had a few misfires placing the blocks of my bridge, dropping them to crash to the floor far below. Still, the build only took a few minutes, and I was soon standing face-to-face with Kevin, separated by a diamond barrier.

The first thing I noticed was that Kevin’s heterochromia looked worse. It was like the darkness in his right eye had been straining at the bounds of his iris, and now tendrils had broken free to contaminate the surrounding white.

He’d never been handsome, and confinement hadn’t done him any favors. Tired, messy, naked, and covered in purple bruises. Had he and Gremory gotten into a fistfight? He was still in amazing shape, but that was a System thing. Both he and I looked human, but the Survivor achievements did something to our bodies to make us supernaturally fit and healthy. I could have given him pants, but any resource he had access to in his cell was a potential problem.

He didn’t say anything, glaring at me with a sour expression. I looked past him to the demon, and my mouth dropped open.

Gremory was a she, and she was not a therian. Instead of a person with an animal head, I was looking at a beautiful woman who was eerily similar in appearance to my wife. She was half a foot taller, and her hair was curly and black, cut at her shoulders, but her face was so akin to Esmelda’s that the similarity could not be a coincidence. It wasn’t that they looked related, it was like someone had taken Esmelda’s face and applied a Snapchat filter to create what a computer algorithm thought was a more perfect human.

Then there were the ears. Furry, brown, sticking out from the sides of her head. They weren’t cat ears, I had no idea what animal they had come from. It might have been a cute feature on an anime girl, but seeing it in real life was nothing short of disturbing. What worked in a cartoon did not translate well to realism.

"Greetings," she said, stepping to one side so that Kevin was no longer blocking her. "I am the Duchess Gremory, advisor to kings and emperors, the fifty-sixth harbinger of the One Who Knocks.”

Her voice was muffled by the cell, I could barely hear what she was saying.

“Bojack,” I said, “lock Kevin in place. I’m going to let her out.”

The demon uttered a few mystic phrases, and Kevin’s feet sank into the diamond he was standing on. His expression soured further, but he didn’t try to free himself, and I climbed up to the top of the cell to mine out an opening for Gremory. The demon held up a hand expectantly, and I had to reach in to pull her up, she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.

“Traitor,” Kevin called after her, “wait until I’m out of here. I’ll send you back to Bedlam. I’ll send you into the barathrum at the edge of everything. You’re dead already, you don’t exist.”

Gremory stood calmly to one side as I filled the blocks back in.

“Why do you look like that?” I said.

“I chose a form I thought would please you,” she replied, smiling in an uncannily familiar way. “You are the Dark Lord of this realm, are you not?”

“I am not pleased,” I said, avoiding eye contact. It was too weird. “And what did you do to Kevin?”

“The pretender?” Gremory asked, her eyebrows raising. “We disagreed. It seems that he believes himself to be the true Dark Lord of this realm, an impossibility, in my opinion, seeing how he sits, bereft of resources and support, while you stride free and powerful, with my cousin at your side.”

I glanced at Bojack. “Cousin?”

“Not literally,” the demon said, snorting, “it is a form of address among the more unctuous of our kind.”

“Got it,” I turned my attention back to Gremory. “You’re telling me you have no intention of trying to free him? He might make you his first seat if you did, you know.”

"I have no wish to align with a fallen Dark Lord; it serves no purpose," her gaze was unblinking, “the lost is lost, and the found is found. The One Who Knocks is aware of you, and he approves. I am prepared to take on the role of your chief administrator immediately.”

“Sorry,” I said. “That position is occupied. You can serve under Zareth if you like. With everything that’s going on around here, I’m sure he’d appreciate the help.”

The One Who Knocks approved of me? How much could he know about me, about what was happening on this side of the veil? Enough to send me an anime girl. Jesus. Esmelda was not going to be enthusiastic about this.

"Serve under a human?" Gremory’s eyes narrowed, her lips thinning in displeasure. "I have no desire to degrade myself to such an extent."

"Would you rather join the fighting in the North? The more demons I have to help with Atlan, the better.”

“Would it mean I could be at your side?” She shifted closer to me, her gaze turning sultry, and I took a quick step back. Freaking demons. I would have preferred she had the head of a camel or something.

“Absolutely not. You’d be on the front lines with the zombies.”

“Direct warfare is not my passion,” she said, “I am more suited to administration, rulership. If you insist that I work under a human, I will simply have to prove my worth. You will learn to value me soon enough.”

“Great,” I said, hopping back down to the bridge. “You and Zareth can work out the details, as long as you accept that he’s in charge.”

We went to the throne room for her formal commitment, one more mote of essence added to the oathblade. Zareth was appropriately alarmed at the prospect of being put in charge of a demon, though he didn’t openly object, and the pair went off together to do whatever he did to keep the mountain running smoothly.

The entire situation made me uncomfortable. Gremory hadn’t made any propositions, but I got the feeling that Walter White was trying to honeypot me, and that was weird on several levels. For one, if you were going the temptation route, why send someone who was basically a demonic version of the woman I already loved? A weird flex, or a message, but not a clear one. Having her appear in the cell with Kevin and instantly reject him in favor of me was an excellent way of either showing that I was accepted as the new Dark Lord or lulling me into a false sense of security, I wasn’t sure which. There was still an army at our doorstep. If the One Who Knocks saw me as a suitable replacement, shouldn’t all of the demons have fallen in line?

I spent a little time in the forge, checking supplies and thinking about the battle to come, mostly experimenting with leaves. Way back on my first day in the world, I’d placed a block to see how they worked, and the result had been nothing special. Harvested leaves reconstituted in a loose cube of suspended plant matter, semi-transparent, and the crafting force that held the individual leaves in position wasn’t nearly as strong as what held building materials together. You could use your hand to push through the block.

They were aesthetically appealing, but even the System had called them useless. However, when I slapped one of the coins onto my hand, something interesting happened. A cubic foot of foliage appeared, weightless. I removed my hand from under the block, and it remained floating in midair.

Shoving my arm through the block caused it to collapse, and the leaves drifted to the floor as if they had never been bound in position by magic. It didn’t take a lot of pressure to break them apart, but it did take some. Using the Storage Ring, I could target a point in space and have a block of material appear wherever I wanted within ten feet. It worked with stone and wood, but they would fall as soon as they came into existence. Only the leaves behaved differently.

“Huh.”

***

Our suite was more luxurious than I had anticipated, even given Zareth's zealous nature. The arched entryway led into an expansive antechamber, its walls adorned with fine tapestries depicting Dargoth’s varied landscapes, some that no longer existed; dark forests and imposing mountain ranges, black towers beneath a brooding sky. An intricate chandelier, a fusion of crystal and gold, hung from the high ceiling, filling the room with a warm glow. It was lit with actual candles, not Everburning Torches, lending a softer cast to the light.

The antechamber opened into a generous living area, complete with plush sofas and a low wooden table that featured ornate geometric carvings. A fireplace carved with runic symbols stood on one wall, its controlled flame producing neither smoke nor scent. Bookshelves, containing everything from treatises on magical theory to historical records, occupied another wall, inviting hours of study or minutes of harvest and absorption. Since coming to Mount Doom, I hadn’t given much thought to raiding the libraries, or even considered that there were

libraries to raid, but that was an oversight in need of remedy. Unless Kevin decided to take on the role of a mentor, I was going to have to learn as much as I could about Dargoth and Plana on my own.

To the left was a grand master bedroom, furnished with a king-sized bed with a baroque frame that reminded me uncomfortably of Bedlam flora and fauna. Nightstands flanked the bed, and a plush rug on the floor seemed to welcome tired feet, it was enough to tempt me to remove my boots. A walk-in closet was already filled with a range of clothing options for both

Esmelda and I, from casual to extremely formal wear, the sort of thing a Dark Lord and his Lady might wear at a public function.

To the right, a room had been prepared for Leto. It featured a single bed with a sturdy frame, well made but unadorned. A desk laden with paper, quills, and ink suggested a space for study, and bookshelves filled with age-appropriate literature, from adventure stories to basic educational texts, covered one wall.

The suite also included a bathroom accessible from both the master bedroom and Leto's room. It featured a massive brass tub complete with a set of clawed feet. The faucets appeared to be made of gold, though the material component was less impressive than the fact that there were

faucets at all. After a few centuries, Kevin must have insisted that someone figure out running water, or else the sink was attached to something akin to a source block.

I walked through the living area hearing voices from the attached balcony, and felt a sense of unreality pressing down on me. It seemed impossible that I could simply open a door and my family would be on the other side. It was a gift I didn’t deserve. A part of me believed this was all an illusion, that I would open my eyes to find I was still inside the diamond egg, and my heart beat a little faster as I followed the sound of their voices. I stopped just before opening the door to the outside. Something was wrong.

Returning to the master bedroom, I removed my helm, followed by the rest of my armor, piece by piece. I had sweated through my shirt, so I visited the bathroom and spent a few minutes cleaning myself up. Normal human things. Had to remember to do those.

Pushing open the door to the balcony, I stepped outside and found Esmelda, Zareth, and Leto overlooking the expanse of Mount Doom. The balcony offered a commanding view of the fortress below, the soldiers on the ramparts, and the swirling activity within the courtyard. The light of torches and the occluded sun emphasized the functional, militaristic design of the fortress, contrasting sharply with the opulence of our suite.

Beyond the fortress, in the twilight haze, an ominous sea of tents, fires, and banners stood; a vast army assembled to lay siege to our home. Yet, despite the menacing view, there was an air of tranquility on this balcony. Esmelda turned her face toward me, her gray eyes reflecting the soft light emanating from the sanguinum lanterns that adorned the balcony's perimeter.

"There you are, why don’t you join us?" she beckoned. Zareth, holding his ever-present scrolls, offered me a respectful nod. Gremory wasn’t with them, which was a relief. I wanted to warn Esmelda about her before they met.

“It’s good to see you out of your armor, my lord,” he said.

Esmelda took my hand. “I couldn’t agree more. I was worried you had some more surprises for us under there.”

I touched the bony knubs growing out of my temples, was it my imagination, or were they bigger than they had been the day before?

“Nope,” I said, “you’ve seen it all.”

“Hello, father,” Leto said awkwardly. Had Esmelda asked him to call me that? Better not to read too much into it. I wanted to hug him, but I also didn’t want to force a connection that wasn’t there. It needed to happen naturally.

“Hey,” I said, “did Zareth find you some new clothes? They look good.”

He had on navy silk trousers, paired with soft leather boots that reached up to his mid-calf. His tunic was deep green, embroidered with silver thread around the collar and cuffs. The outfit was completed by a half cloak with a red and yellow stripe. Gryffindor colors, I thought, though no one here would have any idea what that meant. It suited him.

“Yeah,” he said, “they’re okay.”

“There is an entire wardrobe for each of you,” Zareth said. “I’m also looking into having a footman and a handmaid assigned to this room, but wanted to receive your permission before I did so. I will only select those I trust with the confidence of my lord and lady, I assure you.”

“I saw the clothes,” I said, “thank you. And that’s fine, as long as Esmelda wants a handmaid, that is.”

“I wouldn’t refuse,” she said. “We were well off in Erihseht, and rich in Williamsburg, but nothing like this. You have an excellent vizier, but he shouldn’t waste so much of his time looking after us, and it will be good for me to get to know the staff.”

Zareth nodded, “I was just pointing out some of the features of the fortress.”

“You can see the whole army from up here,” Leto said. “There are so many people.”

“Zareth doesn’t think that Malphas will surrender,” Esmelda said. “What are you going to do?”

The sight before us put only a slight damper on my mood. As long as my family was safe, I could do whatever needed to be done.

“I’m going to take care of it,” I said.

Gastard was down in the training yard, and Leto talked about wanting to learn from the soldiers, but I wasn’t sure about having him running around the fortress. We hadn’t made an official announcement about Esmelda and our son, but Lenda had flown back with us and heard Zareth’s greeting, so unless we swore her to secrecy, word of their existence would undoubtedly spread. It wasn’t people at Mount Doom that I was worried about, but now that they were here, demons would see getting to them as a means of getting to me. There wasn’t much I could do about that aside from hiding them away somewhere. Once Malphas was dealt with, we would have to figure out where the other harbingers stood on the matter of my ascension to the throne to know how much danger simply being around me put them in.

Leto seemed delighted both with the fortress and the suite, entirely forgetting that he was supposed to be mad at me for forcing him to leave his childhood home. Worn out from days of travel, he threw himself on his new bed shortly after dinner, which gave Esmelda and me some space to talk.

“So she looks like me?” Esmelda sipped a cooling cup of tea. Somehow, Zareth had come up with a supply of the odd, fermented variety that lillits favored.

“An inferior version.”

“Bedlam doesn’t create,” she said as if we were discussing something entirely academic, “it mirrors and twists what is natural and wonderful, attempting to steal what it can never make for itself. Did she truly claim that their god has given you his blessing?”

“Or he’s tolerating me.” We were sharing a sofa in the living room, and I let myself slide down on the cushion. They were absurdly soft. Goose down, maybe.

“I suppose I should be flattered,” Esmelda sighed. “The great and terrible entity that the demons serve bothered to learn what I look like, or his creatures did. What an honor.”

“He didn’t give her any instructions as far as bringing me deeper into the fold,” I said, “or she didn’t tell me about them. Gremory was happy to take an oath. All she asked for was the twentieth seat. Zareth had to look up who that belonged to.”

“Temptation takes many forms, and an offer does not always have to be spoken aloud.” Esmelda set her cup down on the table and leaned into my side, a casual intimacy that I had sorely missed. “Perhaps they believe you will imagine for yourself how much they could do for you. How many fantasies could be fulfilled. Power tends to corrupt on its own, and you have been handed the seat of a king, wealth and subjects, ancient entities at your beck and call. Threat is only necessary if reward alone will not suffice.”

“I don’t really care about the power,” I said. “It’s cool and all, and I need it to complete Mizu’s quest. I’m not saying I don’t want to be rich, and I definitely wouldn’t want to give up my System, but it’s not super important in the scheme of things. When I was younger, I had all kinds of daydreams about being someone important. Then I lived with very little for a long time. It put those fantasies in perspective. I wouldn’t mind a simpler life, as long as I get to keep you to share it with.”

“After we save the world…” Esmelda released a soft breath. “Simpler may be a possibility.”

“Yeah, after that,” I said. “I guess I need to deal with that army first, at least.”

“They aren’t attacking yet,” Esmelda placed her hand over mine. “You need rest as much as any of us, blessings or no.”

“This part of the fortress isn’t spawn-proof.” I didn’t think it would be difficult to make it safe for me to stay in the suite, but it was yet another chore on a growing list.

“The sun won’t set for a few more hours,” Esmelda said, standing. “And that bed looked exquisitely comfortable. I think I would like to test it.” She gave me a loaded glance and slipped away toward the bedroom. A moment later, I followed.