Chapters Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 2: I am your king now.
Chapter 2 I am your king now.
The Storm King was a Satyr.
Frankly I was disappointed. With such a grandiose title I expected maybe a creature of living lightning or maybe a wind elemental or some kinda wizard or whatever. Or maybe I’ve watched too much anime. The point is, his appearance was extremely underwhelming.
“Your greatness, we’ve brought the creature.” Said my guard as he shoved me forward.
The Storm King looked up from where he was standing behind a grand maptable he was studying. He kinda looked like a more scrawny Storm Beast. And his fur was snowy white instead of cloud grey. Like the storm beasts, his hands only had three digits. Two fingers and a thumb. His small, beady eyes were a bright lightning blue. Perhaps most distinguishing were the two large horns sprouting from his brow.
“Eh? What are you supposed to be?” he asked in a voice that was much higher in pitch than I imagined it would be.
“I’m a human.” I deadpanned.
“Never heard of ya.” he said dismissively.
“I’d be surprised if you had. My kind ain't exactly from around here.” I replied with all the emotional input of a brick.
“No matter, I’ll conquer them in due time.” he said offhandedly as he picked up a familiar red backpack. “Let's get to the point.”
He rummaged through my pack, pulling out my cell phone and MP3 player.
“I wanna know what these thingies are, and where you got them.”
“That,” I pointed at the MP3 player, “Is a music device. It contains hundreds of songs.”
“Truly? Where do you fit the records?”
Before I could answer, a guard barged into the room. “My king, I bring news.”
“CAN you NOT see I’m busy!” The king screamed. All signs of his earlier aloofness gone.
“But sire, there is a riot in one of the coast towns. It…”
“Do I look like I care? What do I pay you guards for? Handle it. Slap some villagers around or something, just make em stop. I need to focus on my rebranding. I got a shipment of merchandise coming in on the next convoy. And someone remind me to fire the last sculptor. These statuettes are way too scrawny looking.” He yelled as he tossed a small figurine of himself at the wall.
What the flying fuck? I could not believe my ears. This guy, this so called fearsome tyrant, is a total idiot with all the signs of megalomania.
“Now then, you were about to explain to me the workings of this doohickey.” he said to me, suddenly all smiles again.
As he spoke, a daring plan began to form in my mind.
“Of course, sire.” I said, trying to sound as deferential as I could, “it will require a few tools though.”
“What kind of tools?”
“A few screwdrivers, maybe some pliers. The device has taken a bit of a tumble, so I will need to open it up to demonstrate it to you, my King.”
“Fine, fine.” he said in a supremely bored tone before shouting, “STRIFE!!”
A strange creature floated into the room. It almost looked like a small thundercloud. But it had a face that was eerily skull like, and a pair of thin, dangly arms. Could it be some kind of air elemental?
“You bellowed, oh mighty one?” Strife said in a most simpering tone.
“Have some clockmakers tools brought up to my personal study, this slave is about to demonstrate a remarkable device to me.”
“At once oh most respected of kings.”
The whole scene was bizarre. These guys were almost like a cartoon villain and flunky pair. What kind of world have I landed in.
“Come along now, slave. And you better not be wasting my time.” the Storm King said as he led the way out of the throne room. His guards remained at their posts. Perfect.
“I would not dare waste the time of someone as powerful as you, highness.” I replied meekly.
“Good, I'd hate having to waste money on good oil, just to boil you in it.” he laughed as if that was somehow the most hilarious thing ever.
My hatred for this obnoxious dick only hardened my resolve.
Another set of doors led us into a lavish study slash bedroom. I placed the MP3 player on the heavy wooden desk and waited. Soon, Strife appeared, carrying a toolbox.
“It’s about time.” The storm king growled, “now, slave, get to work.”
“Right away, your majesty.” I said as I rummaged through the toolbox.
After a few moments of searching I finally found what I was looking for. A long thin screwdriver with a flat wide head. I swallowed hard as I lifted it from the toolbox. I would either succeed, or I would die in the next few minutes. I took a deep, steadying breath.
“Now please, watch closely.” I said.
And the idiot did just that. He bowed down, leaning his hands upon the desk to get a closer look as I lifted the screwdriver up to the MP3 player.
I let out a breath, reversed my grip on the tool, and rammed it straight through his eye in one explosive motion, all the way up to the handle. Blood leaked out of the ruined socket, his body starting to spasm uncontrollably before his legs lost the ability to hold him up. With A dull thud the Storm King collapsed to the ground. A choking noise worming its way up his throat. His intact eye gazed at me with surprise. His hands clawing at my pants leg as he tried to grapple with me futilely.
I lifted my foot and brought it down on the handle of the screwdriver, driving it all the way through his skull. He went still.
My heart raced in my chest. My throat felt dry, and my skin cold. I had just killed someone. I had crossed the Rubicon, and there was no going back. A stress induced chuckle rose from my throat.
“Death by lobotomy, bitch.” I snickered, dangling on the edge of hysteria.
“Wha.. what did you do?” Said the creature Strife.
His words snapped me out of my semi dazed state. Grabbing another screwdriver from the toolbox I slammed him into the wall with my other arm and held it up to his eye. I’m surprised my hands were so steady considering the amount of adrenaline that was roaring through my veins and brain.
“Listen and listen good you little shit. You’re going to help me, or I swear upon whatever gods you believe in you will be begging for death by the time I’m done with you.”
He gave me a calculating look, showing little fear. I guess he was used to death threats. “What is it you want? A way out of here, unseen by the guards?”
“Oh no, I have no intention of leaving.”
That seemed to surprise him. “Then what are you planning?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking over. And you will help me do so.”
His eyes narrowed, his expression shrewd. “And what, pray tell, is in it for me?”
“Besides your life?” I asked. He didn’t so much as blink though. Good poker face. “Double.”
“Double what?” he asked.
“Everything. Whatever your former boss gave you, if you work with me I will double it. Money, jewels, women, I don’t give a fuck. You help me and it's yours.”
“And why should I accept this? Why shouldn’t I just take over myself?”
“Simple, it’s too much work.”
He stared at me blankly.
“You strike me as the type who would much rather be the tyrants right hand man. All the rewards, but far less risk and less work. Why else would you have put up with that idiot for as long as you have. He didn’t exactly strike me as the sharpest knife in the kitchen.”
He glanced over to the storm king’s corpse before looking back at me.
“But if you help me realize my vision, I will give you all you desire, within reason. All you have to do is boss people around for me, and you get to enjoy all the perks of the job. So what do you say? Do we have an accord?” I asked.
I could practically see the gears spinning in his head. He was seriously considering it. His type are all the same. They are toadies, ambitious but lazy. They want power, but they don’t wanna work on keeping that power, they just want the perks. And I just offered him a big juicy carrot. Double what he had now, for doing the exact same thing he was already doing.
“We have an accord.” he said finally.
I released my grip on his arm and shook his hand. He was a surprisingly solid creature for something that looked like a skull-cloud with arms made of smoke.
“Then let’s get started. Round up some guards that you can trust, we need to take control of the castle.”
“I will see to it at once, my liege.” he said with a scheming grin and flew over to the door.
A quick exchange of words, and after waiting for several minutes, a quartet of Storm Guards entered. For a moment I feared betrayal, but a brief explanation later they turned to me and saluted with a fist to the chest. A more medieval predecessor to the modern military salute.
“We understand the king has suffered a tragic accident and named you his successor,” said the leader, “long live the new king.”
I returned their salute, looking at each in turn.
“Some of you may harbor doubts, but I assure you, we will pull this off, and your services shall be rewarded. Greatly rewarded.” I emphasised.
I could see the spark of greed in their eyes, even with those weird masks on. The promise of rewards irresistible to them.
“Now then, I require a scribe, or whoever usually takes letters and notes. I also want everyone who holds a position of authority to be assembled in the throne room by noon. Is that understood?”
I received nods of confirmation.
“Good, then get to it.”
“Uhm, what should we do with the body, my lord?” One of the guards asked, looking down at the Storm King’s corpse.
“What do you normally do with your trash?” I asked.
“Uhm, we incinerate it, my lord.”
“Well there ya go then. Burn it, and dump the ashes in the sea. Let there be nothing left to remember him by. If there are any paintings, busts, statues and the like of his image, burn those too. If it can’t be burned, smash it till its nought but dust.”
“Yes, sire. As you command.”
While waiting for everyone to gather, I went over the Storm King’s personal effects. Documents he kept, books and ledgers, as well as a few trinkets. His room also contained a small armory. The armor stand was empty. But the weapon rack held a jagged looking spear, a rather crude looking sword, as well as a heavy duty crossbow. How quaint. I lifted the crossbow from the stand and pulled back the mechanism. It actually worked surprisingly smoothly, requiring very little strength. This could come in handy. I loaded it with a bolt, slung the quiver around my hip, then carried it back into the throne room.
A small crowd had started to gather. Mostly made up of storm beasts, but there were a few others among them too. Humanoid reptilians and fish mostly. A diminutive figure hurried into the room with a notepad, inkwell and quill in his arms. He looked like some sort of small grey and white porcupine or pug faced hedgehog. At least I assumed it was a he.
“Is that everyone?” I asked.
“Yes, sire. As you commanded.” spoke the diminutive creature. His voice held the barest hint of a lisp.
“Good.”
I turned to face the crowd and addressed them: “Ladies and Gentle Creatures. Thank you for arriving so swiftly. As you might have heard already, the Storm King is dead. Everything that was his, is now mine .”
One of the storm creatures, a towering specimen with a streak of blood red in its otherwise white hair, boldly stepped forward, standing less than three feet from me. “Why should we listen to you? What’s to stop us from pounding you to a pulp and taking it from you?”
“This.” I said casually as I lifted the crossbow and shot him straight in the face.
The bolt slammed home with a meaty thwack, easily penetrating the iron face mask they all wore and he toppled backwards, dead. Without missing a beat, I reloaded the crossbow as If I didn’t have a care in the world.
“Would anyone else like to fill his shoes?” I asked. And yes I totally pinched that line from Galvatron. Fuck you, it’s a classic.
“You can’t just..” Said one of the lizards, before a crossbow bolt to the head shut him up permanently.
I gave them a calm, level stare as I slid another bolt into the mechanism. Everyone looked at each other, but none dared to speak up.
‘Intimidate. Establish dominance. Failing to achieve total authority now will mean your death.’
“You all had best get with the program. You can either work for me and prosper, or try to take my place and die. Those are your only options, so what will it be?”
One by one they all bowed.
“Good choice. Now that we’ve established who’s in charge here, It’s time to begin my master plan. Your previous leader was ambitious, but he was also an idiot. I plan to bring about some changes.”
One of the fish creatures raised a hand.
“Yes?” I asked casually.
“What kind of changes, sire?” he asked hesitantly, seeming unsure about the title.
“I will get to that in a moment. First I want to know who is in charge of the troops.”
As one, they all pointed to the dead storm creature.
“Of course he was.” I sighed. “Very well, I want his direct subordinates to stand over there.” I said, pointing at the wall.
“I will select a new general from amongst you later. Now, can anyone inform me about the state of our domain? What resources do we have in abundance, and which are scarce? How do our subjects feel about the current regime? Are there any glaring issues that need to be addressed immediately? Do not hold back any information, even if you believe it to be insignificant.”
This took a lot longer than I expected, as the meeting dragged on to its fifth hour, but the information was well worth the time. As it turned out, the Stormlands as this island was known, was rich in mineral ore and some gems, but the inhospitable environment made it a poor place for growing crops or trees. Our main export, what little of it we actually exported, mainly consisted of iron, and our greatest import was fresh produce and lumber. However our supply lines were currently plagued by piracy. The seas around these parts were dangerous and unpredictable, so the majority of transport happened via airship. The kingdom maintained a modest armada to protect its trade lanes. And its industry, what little of it existed, was mainly focused on ship construction, maintenance and mining. As for the people, they were living in harsh conditions, with food being in ever short supply.
“Alright, I’ve heard enough for now. Here’s what I want you to do. I want messengers and recruiters sent to every city, town and settlement on this island. I want them to recruit every engineer, scientist, miner, technician, blacksmith; any craftsman they can find, to come and work for me. Tell them they will be generously compensated for their time and skills. This work is voluntary, so if they refuse, do not harass them, do not threaten them. Now go make this happen.”
Several figures left to carry out the order. I turned to those that remained.
“Next, I want all the slaves from the mines to be rounded up and brought to the central courtyard.”
“Whatever for, sire?” One of the reptiles protested.
“I intend to give them a choice, and hopefully turn them into more productive workers.”
Within the hour all the slaves had been brought to the courtyard. I stood on the central steps, overlooking the crowd. There were maybe two-hundred in all. Most looked about themselves uncertainly.
“You are gathered here today, to make an important decision.” I began. My voice ringing out over the crowd. They now gave me their undivided attention. “The Storm King is dead, and his kingdom now belongs to ME. That means YOU, belong to me.”
Murmurs started rising from the crowd.
“However!” I called out, and the crowd went silent again. “I have no need for slaves. What I need, are skilled workers. Motivated workers. Loyal workers! Workers who wish to help me realise my plans. So this is my offer to you: Work for me, not as a slave, but as free people. You will be given housing, food, and honest pay for your work. If you have skills other than mining then those are welcome too. We need everything and everyone.”
An excited murmuring now went through them.
“My lord, aren’t you being too generous to this rabble?” Strife whispered.
“Rule number twenty of being a successful overlord, Strife. I will keep all my underlings well paid and give them good working conditions to avoid disgruntled workers being led by the hero into a rebellion.” I quietly told him.
“I… I see.”
I turned my attention back to the crowd.
“Should you feel these terms are not acceptable, or if you’d rather leave to return home, you will be given food and water for three days, as well as a small amount of coin for a room a the nearest inn. You are then free to leave. There will be no retaliation against those wanting to leave. You have my word.”
One of the foremen, a diamond dog if I remember correctly, approached the steps. Two of the storm beasts moved to block him, but I waved them off. “Let him speak.”
“How we know we can trust you? How we know your word is good?”
“You don’t.” I said flatly. “But that’s the risk you must take. What do you have to lose, mister ...?”
“Bones is this one’s name.”
“Well then, Bones, will you take a chance and work for me?”
He looked over his shoulder at some of the other dogs in the crowd.
“Can clan stay together?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Then, we dig for you. Diamond dogs is good at digging. And there is plenty of gems in stormlands.”
I shook his paw. “Welcome aboard, Bones.”
In the end, nearly three quarters of the slaves decided to stay. As per my promise, those wanting to leave were given food, water and a little money and sent on their way. The slave pens were turned into a temporary shelter until new houses could be constructed. Already the prepwork for the first foundations were under way.
“My liege, would you like me to send assassins out after the departing slaves to reclaim the money you gave them?” Asked Strife.
“Of course not. I gave them my word. Harming them now would gain me little and destroy my budding reputation.”
“I don’t understand, why waste money on useless scum that won’t work for you?”
“Because, Strife, they will spread the word that I am a man of some honor, and that I keep my word. As a villain I will inevitably come face to face with some do gooder heroes one day, who will seek to vanquish me. Having a reputation of being 'a fair man of his word' will make them far more likely to at least try to negotiate with me, rather than seeking to outright destroy me without a word. Such a thing is worth infinitely more than recovering a handful of pocket change.”
“I...understand, my liege.” he said, but I could tell he did not. For all his cunning, this creature was still a simpleton, only thinking of the short term gains, while I was playing the long game. I decided right then that I would eliminate him at the first sign of treachery, because I cannot afford backstabbers in my ranks. Hell I’d kill him now if I could, but I needed to cement my powerbase first.
The sun was already starting to dip low in the sky, nightfall would be upon us soon. I made my way inside the castle. It was strange to have the guards salute me whenever I passed them. Less than eight hours ago they would have happily beaten me to a pulp. I made my way up to the Storm King’s chambers, now my chambers.
I spent the next hour or so rummaging through the remaining documents. This guy had gathered a lot of wealth, but it was just sitting there, collecting dust. If I was going to get anywhere, I would need to start spending some of these ill gotten gains.
A knock on the door made me look up from the paperwork. The weird hedgehog thing from earlier came in.
“I’ve brought you some dinner oh great one.” He simpered as he presented a plate laden with bread, various fruits, a wedge of cheese and some smoked fish.
“My thanks. What is your name?”
The fact I asked for his name seemed to surprise him. “Uh, I’m Grubber, your excellency.”
“Grubber…” I repeated, letting the name roll off my tongue. “It suits you.”
“Uh, thanks?” he replied.
“Do we have any liquor, Grubber?”
“Uhm…” he hesitated, “I’m sure I can find some for you, Sire.”
“Please do, and get something for yourself while you are ad it.” I replied.
His eyes went wide and he bowed low. “At once, sire. At once.”
Grubber soon returned with a bottle of… I honestly had no idea what it was. All I knew was that it was strong and helped me to take the edge off. I couldn’t drink too much. Getting intoxicated creates an opportunity for your enemies to take you down, so sayeth the evil overlord’s list.
I spent some time stoking the fireplace. The nights here were cold and damp. I experienced enough of that during my stay in the slave pens, and I had no desire to repeat the experience. But there was a second reason for keeping the fire well lit. Assassins coming in through the chimney. Laugh at my paranoia if you must, but if it keeps me alive then I’ll be as paranoid as can fucking be. For that same reason I bolted the door, and blocked the handle with the spear from the weapons rack for good measure. That left the window. Failing to find any sort of rope, I ripped up the expensive curtains and used the strips of cloth to tie the window shut. They would have to break it to get in now.
Lastly I loaded the crossbow and placed it on the nightstand, pointed away from me, but within easy reach.
I resisted the temptation to pour myself another glass of spirits and climbed into the bed. Settling into the comfy warmth I felt my resolve start to crumble. And moments later I was weeping like a little kid as all the stress and tension of the last few days finally made itself be heard. I pulled the covers closer around myself as I curled up into a ball.
“I can do this. I can do this. I’m going to survive. I’m going to become stronger. I’ll show them all just who they are messing with. I’ll make it so that nobody will dare to mess with me ever again. I will make this empire my own, and then the world.”
Just as I finally got a grip and felt myself calming down, the image of the Storm King’s corpse clawed its way to the forefront of my mind.
“Fuck fucking fuck.”
Sleep did not come easy that night.
Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 3: Aim for the unstoppable future.
Chapter 3 Aim for the unstoppable future.
The first rays of the early morning sun stabbed themselves into my eyeballs, and with a tired groan I rolled out of bed. No assassins had come, this night anyway. But it would be some time before I would sleep easily, if ever.
I walked up to the window and looked towards the horizon. The sun rising through the cloud vapor over the mountaintops turned everything a deep red. Red like blood, like the blood on the Storm King’s corpse, like the blood from the Storm Beast general, or that nameless reptile I shot in the face. My stomach lurched, and before I knew it I was painting the corner of the room a nice shade of vomit green.
”How pathetic am I? Puking my guts out over killing some worthless foes. I am supposed to be a conqueror. I’m supposed to be a super villain. None of them would puke their guts out over some dead nobodies.”
‘Baby steps’
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, the sour taste of bile burning my throat.
“Ugh, these clothes stink.” I thought out loud, “I could use a fucking bath too.”
I pulled the spear out of the door handle and unlocked the deadbolt. Peeking out into the corridor I spotted a guard at the end of the hall.
“You there.” I called.
“Sire?” he answered, quickly coming closer.
“Fetch a servant for me will you. Have them prepare a bath, and find me a tailor. I need some clothes made.”
“At once.” he replied with a bow before running off.
For such brutish looking creatures they were surprisingly articulate. Some of them a tad less so, but the majority of them were very well spoken. I lounged about in my chambers for a bit more, not really doing anything. My mind still too tired. Before long, Grubber appeared.
“Your bath is ready, your excellency.”
“Then lead the way.” I told him. “And please find someone to clean up that mess in the corner.”
The tub itself turned out to be one of those Victorian clawfoot type designs. Slipping out of my ratty clothes I quickly let myself sink into the water. My stiff and aching muscles let out a collective sigh of relief. My skin looked ashen from all the dirt that had collected over the last ten days, and it took some serious scrubbing before I was back to a healthy peachy pink. It made me feel human again. I soaked in there for close to an hour, until my empty stomach began to protest.
Just as I was drying myself off with a rather rough towel there was a knock on the door before Grubber stuck his head inside.
“A thousand pardons my lord, the tailor is here.”
”What good timing.” I thought. “Send him in.”
He turned out to be some kind of anthropomorphic cat. Like a silver tabby, walking on its hind legs. He wasn’t the tallest creature either, only about half my size. Isn’t that just all kinds of precious. Seriously, what mad animal loving god created this world?
“I understand you need some clothes made, my king.”
“Indeed I do.”
“Then with your permission, I will take your measurements now.”
Making sure the towel was firmly cinched around my waist I stood up straight and held out my arms.
“By all means.”
“Do you have any preferences?” he asked while he measured my dimensions, jotting them down on a notepad, using his tail like an extra hand. That's a rather neat skill.
“Nothing fancy, I need practical clothes. Something easy to move in that will keep me warm in this climate. My species doesn’t deal well with cold. No natural fur as you can see.”
“Very good, sir. Wool, furs, cotton and leathers it shall be then.”
“Have at least one set ready by the end of the day and there will be a substantial bonus in it for you.” I added. “If you don't mind my asking, what are you? I've not seen your species before.”
“I’m an Abyssinian, sire.”
“That's a mouthful. I’mma call you lot neko’s.”
“Neko’s?” he asked confused.
“Neko means cat in one of the languages of my home."
“I see.” he said. I couldn’t tell if he minded the nickname or not. Not that I cared if it did bother him. “I think I have everything. I will be back before nightfall with your first set of clothes.”
“I look forward to it.”
Once he left I reluctantly put on my old clothes. They felt grimy and smelled. But I had little choice. I couldn’t go out there starkers. I’d freeze my fucking nuts off before I made it down the hallway.
Time to see what they got for breakfast.
After a light breakfast of bread, eggs and a bit of cheese, Grubber and I; flanked by two guards, made our way to the town itself. I was wearing a heavy fur mantle over my normal clothes to ward off the morning chill. The townsfolk seemed curious about their new ruler, small groups had started following us around, likely seeing what we were up to. Since they had no malicious intent I did my best to just ignore them and get on with it.
“When can we expect the first craftsmen to arrive?”
“Hard to say, there’s a lot to consider. Distance, luggage, weather conditions. Sometimes an airship will break down. I’d give it about fourteen days for people to start arriving. There was this one time… ” said Grubber, between bites of cake.
“Where did you get that?” I interrupted.
“Uhm, castle larder. Did you want a bite?” he hesitantly offered me the half eaten piece.
“No, but next time bring me a slice too.”
“Can do your excellency.” he saluted before quickly shoving the rest of the cake down his throat.
I was actually starting to kind of like Grubber. He’s loyal and eager to please, good qualities in a minion. And he’s dependable, mostly, he does get a little sidetracked where food is concerned. Still I found him to be much more pleasant company than Strife, whose only concern seemed to be how much wealth we could suck out of the populace in the shortest amount of time.
“Let's pay a visit to the mining pit first. I wanna see how the new workforce is getting on.”
Grubber nodded and we made our way there with little difficulty. As we approached the camp at the top of the pit, raised voices reached our ears.
“Sounds like an argument. Let's find out what’s going on.”
“You want us to stomp em boss?” one of my bodyguards asked.
“You got a name?” I said whilst glancing over my shoulder.
“I’m...”
“Actually scratch that, I don’t fucking care. From now on you two are called Wedge and Biggs.”
Grubber, looked more than a little confused, as did my guards. “Uhm, can I ask why, sire?”
“Because it amuses me.” I smirked. “And because Wedge and Biggs are awesome. So now you two will have to live up to your new awesome names. Don’t disappoint me.”
Their confusion seemed to change into determination as they walked just that little bit straighter.
“And no stomping just yet. Let's find out what’s going on first before we start busting heads.”
They all nodded. As we approached the arguing group of creatures, I recognised Bones among them.
“Anyone mind explaining what’s going on here?”
Dead silence was my only answer. You could have heard a fly fart.
“Come on people, someone tell me what the problem is. I’m not gonna shoot the messenger.”
‘After all, Evil Overlord rule number thirty-two. I will not fly into a rage and kill the messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Soon, no one would dare bring me any news at all. Also, good messengers are hard to come by.
“Other workers are too slow.” said Bones. “Diamond dogs do much more work.”
“Well we would be able to keep up, but the equipment keeps breaking.” said one of the fish guys. You know what screw it, I’m just going to refer to these guys collectively as Murlocs. He held up a pickaxe that no longer had a tip. It had broken clean off.
“Is all the equipment in such poor shape?” I mean I didn’t really pay attention while I was in the pit myself. Too busy trying to ignore my stomach and the ache in my arms and back.
“Pretty much.” said several miners.
“Well, do what you can for now. I’ll go to the forges and see what can be done.”
The sounds of bellows, crackling flames and the constant thumping of hammers greeted us as we entered the camps main forge. I wasn’t sure what to expect, since the slaves weren’t allowed up here I hadn’t had the chance to see it before. Judging by the overall level of technology I'd seen thus far I was kinda baffled by how primitive the forges were. I mean this world had flying ships for crying out loud. That would suggest their production methods had at least been partially industrialized. But no, this was all old fashioned hand work.
About a dozen smiths were pounding away at lumps of primitively forged steel. A small blessing I suppose. Having to invent steel smelting from scrap would have been a long and arduous process. No, all the basics were there, what this needed was automation.
“Grubber, fetch me a large table, stacks of paper and writing materials, rulers, the works.”
“At once, my lord.” he saluted before running off.
While I waited for his return, I sauntered over to the nearest smith who just quenched a newly forged pickaxe. He was a burly lizardman with reddish scales. Barrel chested with arms as thick as my thighs.
“What are you quenching that with?”
“Water, what else?” he grunted.
“Why are you not using oil?”
“Why would I do that? Oil is for cooking.”
“To reduce material stress. Cooling it this rapidly will make that pick rather brittle.”
“It’s worked for us so far.” he shrugged.
“Well so far is no longer good enough.” I told him, then turned to my guards, “Wedge, Biggs, go to the castle kitchens, see if we have any peanut oil and bring it here.”
“How much?” asked Wedge.
“All of it. The entire supply. If they don’t have much, bring me any other oil you can find. Fish oil, canola oil, I don’t care; just bring it all here.”
I hung around just outside the forge where I didn’t feel like my skin was melting off, waiting for my minions to return. All the while I was accessing the Overlords Compendium, looking up schematics for the things I needed. Pretty soon a series of carts made its way down the street. Pulled by a couple of storm guards. The first cart held the table and the writing supplies I’d asked for. Grubber was hitching a ride on top. The rest of the carts were laden with barrels.
“We brought everything you asked for sire.”
“Good work, Grubber, have them unload the carts. Set up the table here.” I then turned to the smith from before. “Dump out all the water, and fill your quench tanks with the oil from the barrels.”
He seemed sceptical about my order, but acquiesced anyway. While they got to work, I sat down at the table, grabbed a piece of parchment and started to sketch out detailed component schematics. My mind went into an almost trance like state while I worked as the information from the compendium flooded into me, and found its way onto the paper through my steady hand. Everything around me felt sort of muted, as if I was working while my head was underwater. Before long, a stack of schematics filled the other side of the desk, and when I scratched the last line of ink down onto the paper, reality seemed to snap back to its normal state.
I felt a brief moment of disorientation, but it passed quickly. Standing up from my workspace I called out to the smiths.
“Everybody listen up, I have new orders for you!”
Everyone soon crowded around me. I picked up the stack of schematics, holding them up in the air.
“All other projects are now on hold. These designs are your top priority. I will hand these out one by one, and you will forge these to the exact specifications. Do not rush your work. These components require great precision. You have one week to finish this. If you require extra help you are free to recruit anyone you need. If you finish one schematic, come back and grab a fresh one off the stack.”
One by one each smith grabbed a paper and got to work. Grubber gave the papers a curious glance.
“What are we building, sire? A new weapon?”
“No, not yet anyway. We’re building the future.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will in a week.” I said as we left the forge and went back to the pit.
“Bones!” I called out to the foreman, who hurried over.
“You bring good news?”
“Yes and no. The good news is, your workers will have better tools in about two weeks. The bad news is that I want your dogs to work solo until then. I need the rest of the miners to do other jobs. And before you complain, you will be paid accordingly for the extra workload.”
“That is.. fair.” he said after thinking about it for a moment.
“I also have some additional orders. I want you to gather a couple of prospecting parties, have them go to the nearby mountains and find me a source of copper.”
“Why copper? Copper be soft and poisonous.”
“It is to build the future. I don’t need you to understand, I just need you to get me what I asked. Can you do that for me?”
“I can.” he nodded.
“Good, then get to it. A bonus to any worker who finds the copper first.”
The week passed swiftly, though there were a few hiccups with the forging. Not used to working with oil, some of the smiths accidentally caused a few fires, but luckily nothing serious; and the work progressed smoothly enough once everyone got used to the new process.
I had not heard back from the prospectors yet, but without modern equipment I expected it to take quite a bit of time to locate a chalcopyrite vein or copper in its native form. That’s why I sent them out right away.
Soon enough the forge work was done, and all that was left was assembly. I oversaw the work personally while the smiths assembled the various devices, giving instruction where required. This had been quite the ambitious project, considering the time limit I imposed upon them. But they had delivered. A house sized piece of land just outside the main forge had been cleared and leveled, a foundation laid, and brickwork and piping assembled.
I was standing outside, overseeing the final touches of the primary project, resplendent in my new clothes. That neko tailor had outdone himself. My new clothes were simple but robust, and above all warm. A warm woolen vest over a fine cotton shirt. Patches of leather reinforced the material in places such as my elbows, shoulders and knees. The pants too were a fine wool. The boots were made of fur lined leather, as were the gloves that came with the outfit. Those were currently tucked into my belt because I needed my hands free. Finally there was the fur lined cloak from before. I had grown quite attached to it.
“Pardon me, sire, but what is that monstrosity they are building?” came a familiar voice from beside me.
“That, Strife, is a steam engine.”
“A what?”
“Don’t your airships use something similar?”
“No, our airships move by burning magmasite crystals.”
“And those are?”
“A common form of minor magical rock found near volcanoes and the like.”
“Magical, really?”
“Yes.”
”interesting, If magic is a common thing in this world, then I will have to find ways to adapt it for my gain. But this will require careful study. Magic and science don’t often mix well.”
And if you’re wondering how I could so casually accept the existence of magic, need I remind you I was transported to this animal infested world by a godlike being who sold fucking magic powers as if they were carnival trinkets.
“To get back to your earlier question; a steam engine is a heat engine that performs mechanical work using steam as its working fluid. Water is heated to boiling point and then the steam pressure is moved through a series of valves and pipes to the cylinders. The force produced by the steam pushes a piston back and forth inside said cylinders. This pushing force is transformed, by a connecting rod and flywheel, into rotational force that can be used to power other devices.”
“Why on equus would we need such a thing?”
“Come with me.”
I led him inside the newly refurbished forge slash workshop. Some of the old furnaces had been replaced with new, more efficient designs. Instead of manual bellows, these were equipped with crank fans. There were steam hammers and grinding wheels in various sizes. All of them either piston or belt driven, hooked up to the giant steam engine outside through a complex series of gears, driveshafts, flywheels and belts that ran through the rafters above.
“Once the engine is completed and operational, this forge will be able to do roughly five times the work it was doing previously. And these new steam hammers are just small scale. Soon we will be able to build bigger, better and more powerful versions. Which will allow us to make even better and more refined tools in a fraction of the time it took to build all of this.”
"Everything I’ve come across the last few weeks has been made of wrought iron or more rarely, low carbon steel. The new furnaces can be kept at a much more consistent temperature thanks to the fans, which will improve the quality of our steel making process and will allow us to start creating high carbon steel. The start of the storm lands industrial revolution begins here .”
“Pardon me, your greatness,” one of the workers called from the doorway, “the work is complete, and we are ready to stoke the engine’s furnace.”
“Then begin. I will join you shortly.”
“I hope you do realise that because of this project our iron production and export is at an all-time low, my lord.”
“That is of no consequence, Strife. We stand to gain more than enough profit from this in the long run. Any temporary loss is insignificant. Learn to see the bigger picture.”
“You gamble with our only reliable source of income.”
“Yes, and I will continue to do so until the storm lands are completely self sufficient. And nothing is going to stand in my way.” I said, spinning on my heels and marching outside.
The atmosphere outside was brewing with excitement while everyone waited to see if the engine would work. Wedge and Biggs, at my request, were helping to shovel coal into the furnace. They didn’t seem at all bothered by the heat, despite their thick fur coats.
It takes a significant amount of fuel and time to heat up a boiler of this size, but eventually the pressure gauges began to rise. I nodded to the crew, and with a turn of a thick iron wheel, the main pressure valve opened. Slowly the pistons started to move, the fly-balls started spinning, and the wheels turning. The typical chugging hiss of the steam being released by the pistons valves was like music to my ears. More coal was shoveled into the furnace. The fires roared and the pistons pumped. Slowly the engine picked up speed. Everyone around began to clap and cheer.
“Ladies and gentle creatures, I congratulate you on a job well done. Tonight there shall be a feast for the whole town!”
My declaration was greeted with an even louder applause. What I failed to see was Strife’s disapproving glare.
I joined in on the celebrations for a short while. Even if you outright hate your subjects it helps to be seen as a man of the people. It’s simply a matter of good PR. I enjoyed the feast, though refused to drink any spirits or wine or other forms of alcohol. Vulnerabilities .
All in all it had been a good time, And I left everyone to their revelry while quietly making my way back to the castle.
Having a celebration had been the right call. After all the work everyone put in to get this whole project off the ground they needed a chance to unwind. Everyone's spirits were high. I guess the old saying rings true in any world. Panem et circenses , bread and games for the masses, and they shall be content. At least for a time.
One of the first things I had the forge make was a small, reinforced steel safe. One that perfectly fit under my bed. That’s where I put the compendium for now, as well as my cell phone and MP3 player. Until I could build a reliable source of electricity they would have to remain switched off.
Things seemed to be going smoothly for a time. Sadly that’s when fate decided to kick us in the shins.
Five days after the steam engine went online, the first airship returned. I was up in the castle with a work crew when it landed. We were clearing out an entire wing to convert it to a laboratory. Every self respecting super villain needs one of those. Where else am I going to build and test my diabolical superweapons when the time comes. I was just going over some details when a messenger came barging in.
“S-sire… news… bad.. News.” he gasped.
“Take a minute to catch your breath man, if it’s this urgent then me waiting a few extra seconds can’t possibly make it any worse.”
And so he spent the next minute or so trying not to cough up a lung before finally delivering his message.
“Sire… the east side of the island… has gone into open rebellion. They heard the old king was dead… the coastal towns decided to form their own kingdom. Our guards were.. Attacked.”
“Well that’s just fucking peachy aint it?” I said.
Nobody said anything.
“Assemble my generals, I call for a war council.”
Said council was assembled in the throne room within minutes. I myself was the last to arrive, flanked by my two personal guards. Wedge and Biggs had dyed a streak of bright orange color into their otherwise white manes to help them stand out from the rank and file.
“So what do we know?” I asked no-one in particular as we all gathered around the map table. Various chess pieces were arranged on top of the map, showing the locations of various troops, ships, supplies, and our enemies. How accurate this whole thing was is questionable at best, given the delay in information.
One of the assembled leaders, a lizardman, spoke up. “Not much I’m afraid, Sire. The coastal towns were already a clawful during the reign of the previous king. But they never dared to openly rebel. They must think you’re weak to pull off something this bold.”
“And you are?”
“Commander Greenscale of the storm scouts.”
“Do we have any information on their numbers? Military capacity, armaments.”
“They have formed a citizen militia, using weapons taken from our storm guard. There have been a few defectors amongst our ranks, but the majority of our forces have pulled back to await orders.” he said, indicating several pieces on the map just outside the three largest coastal towns.
“We must strike them down with overwhelming force. Bring in our troops from the rest of the empire and crush them in one fell swoop.” said another of my officers. A burly storm beast.
“And leave the other towns unguarded, Captain Granite? You might as well order them to join the rebellion.” Greenscale shot back.
“Maybe they want us to pull out our troops. It could be a trap.” Opted one of the murlocs.
‘Who the hell are you? Admiral Ackbar?’ I thought to myself. “Who are their leaders? Do we know at least that much?” I asked.
“The only one we know of for sure is the one who made the declaration. The mayor of Blackreef.” said Greenscale.
“Assassinate him, and do it quickly. We must cut off the head of the snake before this rebellion gains too much momentum.” growled Granite.
“Belay that, first I want to know why exactly these towns rebelled. You said they were stirring trouble before. There must be a reason for that.”
“Probably because of all the pirates.” Said one of the other storm beasts. “They have been raiding the coastal towns and their fishing and trade ships for years. The old king knew, but he didn't do anything about it. Im guessing they’ve simply had enough.”
“So how shall we deal with these upstarts, my liege?” Strife asked expectantly.
That put me on the spot. I had been going over various scenarios in my head while the discussion continued. But the simple truth is I have no real command experience outside of video games. And it's not like I can build extra units or somesuch. This isn’t command and conquer after all.
I studied the map whilst trying to draw information from the compendium, only to discover a glaring weakness. It contains a near endless supply of information, but it doesn't have anything on actual battle tactics. It can tell me how to build artillery, but not how to best employ them.
“Think of it as a trial run, a tutorial before you get to join the big game.” the words of The Shopkeeper echoed in my mind.
”Shit. I guess I will have to learn as I go.”
“I want you to send word to all our forces. I want one third of the guards in every town to pull out and meet us here.” I indicated a point on the map, just a few kilometers outside of Blackreef. “The remaining two thirds will keep watch for possible insurrection. Once our forces are assembled, we will surround Blackreef. I will demand to meet this mayor in person, to see if he can be reasoned with. If negotiations fail, then the assassins can take him out. If his forces fail to surrender after that, we will raze the town to the ground.”
“Why negotiate at all? Why not just slaughter the riff raff and get it over with?” Strife asked.
“Because it would be a waste. I’m not going to slaughter them wholesale if they could still be of use to me.”
What I left unsaid was that the thought of putting an entire town to the sword made me feel queasy. If the situation deteriorated I might not have any choice, but right now I would try to avoid that for a while longer.
“Send word to the forge, tool production is on hold. I want them to crank out as many high quality weapons and armor as they can. Priority is on crossbows and bolts. We will take as many with us as we can haul.” I said before turning to Greenscale, by far the most level headed of my commanders. “How long will it take for our forces to assemble?”
“If we can airlift them all, just under two weeks. if they have to travel on foot, almost a month.”
“Then the forge has two weeks. Make it so.”
Everyone at the table saluted then began to file out.
“Commander Greenscale, wait a moment.” I said just as he was about to exit the room. “I’d like a word.”
He waited dutifully till we were alone. “How can I be of further service, my king?”
“You all know how I came to power.”
“You assassinated the former king in a daring, if desperate powergrab.” he stated matter of factly.
“Yes, and while I could claim I did so through my exceptional skills, that would be a lie. The fact of the matter is that my skills with a blade are lacking. You seem to be the most level headed of the commanders, so I need you to either teach me some combat basics or find me a competent instructor.”
Now you might be wondering why in the world I would admit to having such a glaring weakness in front of someone who could likely kill me, but this was a calculated risk. I sorely needed instruction, or I would be dead meat on the field if it came to actual combat. I can’t rely on my bodyguards or trickery or even fucking luck to save my ass. I needed training, pure and simple.
Greenscale looked me over skeptically. “Trying to teach you how to properly wield a sword in just two weeks would be wasted effort. It takes several months of daily exercises and drills to gain any sort of competence. A spear would be a much better choice at this point. It's easy to wield and can be used both offensively and defensively.”
“If that is your expert opinion, I won’t argue.”
“It is, so when would you like to begin?”
“As soon as you are available.” Might as well get the humiliation over with as soon as possible.
“Very good, sire. I will meet you in the courtyard in an hour.”
Humiliation indeed.
Greenscale turned out to be a competent swordfighter, and he fought dirty. He’d slapped me repeatedly with the flat of his blade, tripped me up or otherwise threw me off balance. I was feeling battered and bruised, while I hadn’t gotten so much as a single hit in myself. Even with the advantage of reach the spear afforded me he easily beat me every single time.
“You really weren’t kidding when you said you had no combat skills. How you managed to pull off your assassination is beyond me.”
“The fact that the former king was a raving idiot helped a lot.” I groaned from my position on the cold hard ground. “I’m an armchair general, not a footsoldier.”
“At this point, all you are is worm food, but I can fix that. Now get up and let's go again.”
I spent the next hour stabbing, thrusting and swinging the spear, and picking myself up off the ground. By the time Greenscale called for a stop my arms were aching worse than on my first day in the mining pit. At least my hands had built up some calluses thanks to that, so my palms weren’t completely raw from wielding the spear.
“Remind me to invent some personal weapons once we have this rebellion under control.” I gasped between breaths. “Because spear fighting is clearly not for me.”
“Oh quit bellyaching, your highness. Unless you were planning to whine our foes into submission.” Greenscale said sarcastically. “All you gotta do is keep this up for the next few weeks and you should be at least a little competent by the time we ship out.”
“I could have you thrown into the ocean, you know.” I glared.
“But you won't, since you clearly need me.” He smirked cockily.
“I’m sure I could find a competent replacement.”
“But not one as handsome.” he replied glibly, and I chuckled despite myself.
“Or modest, apparently.”
He gave me a roguish smile. “One of my many good qualities.”
“Well, just to stack the odds in my favor, I have another task for you.”
“I’m all ears, oh great one.”
“Ugh, I’m getting sick of all these different honorifics. Everyone will stick to just my lord from now on. Have it be known.”
“As you wish, my lord. Now what was this task you mentioned?”
“I want you to hand pick the ten best fighters from amongst the troops. And I want you to mold them into an elite unit. They will become the first Imperial Royal Guard. Oh and I want you to include Wedge and Biggs among them.”
“Why those two?”
“Because I’ve taken a liking to them. So work them, mold them into the best of the best. If they truly can’t make the cut, you tell me personally. But I think they will be highly motivated.”
“But why pick me for this task?”
“Because you voted for caution where others wanted to rush in blindly. I need those qualities. I need leaders that think before they act. You’re cocky, but you’re not stupid. You use that smarmy swashbuckler routine to catch your opponents off guard. That is a quality I can appreciate. Especially for the commander of my Imperial Royal Guard.”
“What if I don’t want the position?”
“That only means I made the right choice.”
“I’m a highly trained scout and skilled frontline fighter, not a babysitter.”
“And that is exactly why I want you to train these troops. If I wanted guards to just stand around and look pretty while watching the throne room I could just pick a couple of them at random. What I need from you, is to train the deadliest, most focused, most battle hardened team of warriors this island has ever seen. Because that’s who I want with me when I’m forced to take to the field personally.”
“Would this position come with an increase in pay?” he asked slyly.
“It might.” I casually answered.
“You drive a tough bargain.”
“Pfft, please, that was hardly bargaining. Besides, I could just order you to do it for the same pay.”
“No need to go that far, my lord.”
“Oh look, the honorifics are back.”
“I have no idea what you mean, my lord.” he said with a toothy grin.
“I’m sure you don’t. Now, enough wasting time.”
“Aye, sire.” he said before running off.
“Note to self, put him on the ‘to watch’ list.”
Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 4: Doorway into darkness.
Chapter 4 Doorway into darkness.
The wind whistled in my ears… and I felt fear.
I rolled my shoulders for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to get used to the extra weight that was pulling on them. When I asked the blacksmiths for a suitable set of armor, things almost ended in a fistfight when they all demanded to be the one who got to make it. They were all roughly of equal skill level, so the choice came down to personal preference. How did I solve this dilemma? Several hair raising rounds of Rock Paper Scissors. What? Not everything needs to be complicated.
That wasn’t the end of it though. Because I’m the Big Boss they insisted on making the armor more ornate. I kept having to shoot down all their suggestions. I mean come on, who really needs giant shoulder pauldrons with almost footlong spikes. This aint World of Warcraft people, that shit is heavy.
Eventually I will craft something both amazing and deadly. Something that will strike fear into the hearts of my enemies, when I’ve raised this island out of the middle ages. For now however I settled on a combination of studded leather and steel cuirass. Steel pauldrons of a practical size that left my arms with enough freedom of motion to effectively wield my spear, and some simple greaves and vambraces.
I went for mobility rather than full protection. Heavy armor is all well and good, but since I’m not an athlete nor accustomed to it, it would be a hindrance rather than an asset. It takes time and practise to get used to moving around in heavy plates of armor. Even just the cuirass felt restrictive, since it prevented me from bending too far forward.
The cold wind whipped me in the face, and I grabbed the railing tightly as the deck shifted slightly below me. From this height I could see hundreds of lights in the distance. Tiny orange pinpricks against an almost pitch black background.
“Campfires.” Greenscale grunted next to me, “sloppy; they will know we’re coming.”
“They knew we would be coming the second they decided to rebel. Besides, if we are to lay siege to the town, I’d rather have the troops warm, rested and ready instead of cold, miserable and strung out.”
I shivered as another gust of freezing air blew over me. Even the heavy fur traveling cloak couldn’t fully ward off the bitter cold at this height.
“How come you’re not freezing your ass off? Aren't you lizards cold blooded?”
“Some of the jungle dwelling lizards are, but me and mine, we’re descendants of dragon blood. Extremely hot or cold weather means little to us.”
“You really are one lucky fucker ain't ya?” I groused.
“Nah, if I was really lucky I’d be back home right now, on the rug in front of the fireplace, with two willing females sucking my…”
“And that’s enough of that! I need the image of you having sex stuck in my brain about as much as I need an extra hole in my head.”
“Is that envy I hear?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have no desire to lay with a girl who could be related to an Iguana.”
“Oh that sounds hot.” he replied with a smirk.
I did not dignify that with a reply. Choosing instead to descend the stairs to the main deck.
“When do we touch down?”
“A few hours before daybreak.”
We’ve all seen at least one or two movies where two medieval armies face off against each other. But those utterly fail to prepare you for the reality of just how big a full army on the field really is. Or how noisy it is, even at night. The snores of those who actually manage to find sleep despite their nerves. The sound of hundreds of blades being sharpened against whetstones all over the place by those who can not find sleep.
Here and there soldiers banded together for a game of chance. Dice were popular. Easy to carry, hard to damage, unlike cards. They gambled away the late hours before the dawn. Those officers that caught them turned a blind eye. Better that they gamble than let their nerves get to them and draw knives at each other. Some sat by the fire, half asleep, while others droned on about past battles or misadventures.
Some even had sex, alone or with a partner if they could find one. They tried to be as quiet as they could manage, but these tents did little to dampen the sounds. I noticed early that my fighting forces are mixed gender. I’m not bothered. They deserved one last release before they stared death in the face, come morning. So long as both sides were willing. I may be set on the path of evil, but I will not tolerate rape. Evil must have at least some standards.
At the center of camp stood a massive tent surrounded by a dozen legion banners. This was the command tent. I could see numerous shadows standing inside thanks to the lantern light. They were waiting for my arrival. Taking a deep breath I pulled open the flaps and stepped inside. Everyone was standing around a central table, quietly talking amongst themselves. They all slammed their breastplates in salute as they noticed my entry.
I returned their salute as a matter of respect before speaking. “If everyone is present I will get right to the point.” when no one spoke up I continued, “We have just a few hours until first light. I want to have the town surrounded before dawn breaks. Once they see we have them surrounded we will send a messenger to them with the demand that they choose a representative to parlay with us.”
“With respect, my king, is that really the best idea? If we merely wait for them we give them time to dig in.” Said one of the commanders.
“They know we’re here, hell, they knew we would be coming when this all started, they’ve already dug themselves in as best as possible. Waiting for them to parlay with us won’t give them any further advantages.”
They didn’t seem to have any further arguments so I continued. “The ships we arrived on didn’t just bring the last of the reinforcements. We also brought as many new weapons as the weight limit allowed. The crews are already unloading them for distribution. The majority of these consist of crossbows and bolts. I want the archers and crossbow troops at the front of our siegeline, backed up by melee troops with spear and shield to form a shieldwall should they decide to recklessly charge us. We have only hours before dawn, so let’s move out.”
If the camp at rest had been noisey, the whole army on the move was a cacophony. You could feel the ground shake slightly under the march of five-thousand pairs of feet, and the wheels of hundreds of supply carts. The creaking of their axles joined by the ringing chink of chainmail. The pounding of thousands of spear butts against the earth as the troopers used them like walking sticks. There was surprisingly little chatter, and I could only guess at what was going through their minds right then.
We marched for a good thirty minutes before the town came into view. Blackreef was a fishing town and thus was nestled up against the sea. According to the last tally it housed almost three-thousand people. Like everything else on this island its buildings were made of a hodgepodge of materials. Here and there you could see the ruined remains of an old brickwork defensive wall that once surrounded the town, but had long since crumbled into dust from lack of maintenance. The only thing still intact was the town gate. And it too had seen better days. The streets leading out of the town had been hastily barricaded using carts, barrels, boxes and whatever else they managed to drag over. I could see a rowboat sticking out from one such barricade.
My commanders barked orders, and the troops began to spread out to form a siegeline. It didn't take long before the town guards raised the alarm and bells started to toll. I watched as everything slowly unfolded. It all felt pretty surreal to me. Like it’s not really happening, and yet it was. I felt strangely calm, almost resigned. It took almost an hour before everything was in place, and by then the horizon had begun to glow a fiery orange. The sun would rise any minute. Mere moments ago I had dispatched a single unarmed messenger to demand a meeting between me and the mayor.
I stood waiting, flanked by Wedge and Biggs as the sun crested the horizon. In the first light of day I could see hundreds of nervous and angry faces peeking out from behind the barricades, and from inside windows.
“They sure is taking their time.” Biggs grunted.
“You wanna go in and get them?” I jokingly suggested, then realized I probably shouldn’t make such jokes because Biggs seemed to take it seriously.
“I think they heard you, sire.” Said Wedge, pointing at the gate where a trio of figures had appeared.
“About time.” Biggs grunted.
I took a deep breath and gripped my spear tightly. “Showtime boys.”
As we moved forward, banner of parley in hand, I felt my fear return.
The mayor of blackreef was a fish humanoid with the appearance of some freakish deep sea creature. His bodyguards were two of the biggest lizardmen I've seen to date. Both were built like a brick shithouse.
We came to a halt a few paces from each other. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“I am Angler, mayor of the town of Blackreef. I demand you break up your army and leave us alone. We are part of the newly founded freedom alliance and we want nothing to do with you.”
He folded his arms dramatically and stared me down, having said his piece. It almost felt like a bad B-movie.
“I am the Storm King.” I began, but faltered when they started laughing. They actually laughed in my face.
“A thing like you? Get out of here.” said his bodyguard
“I met the Storm King once, you are not him.” Mayor Angler said.
“And thank fuck for that. If I was anything like that idiot I’d kill myself.” I groused. “However… what was once his belongs to me now. I am the new Storm King, and I can’t have your little alliance separating from the empire and causing me problems. This island has enough problems as it is without adding a drawn out civil war into the mix. I’m here to ask you to give up your arms and return to the fold.”
“Like Tartarus we will.” Said Angler. “We are free people, and we plan to keep it that way.”
“I guarantee you, things will be different. I have plans in the works that will make this island prosper. You will see that...”
“Fuck off. And take your grand plans with you. We will never bow to another tyrant again.”
“Don’t be rash, take a moment and think. You’re not soldiers. You’re citizens armed with stolen weapons. Most of them probably don’t even know how to swing them properly. I have your town surrounded, and my men outnumber you.”
“My men may not be soldiers, but each is worth ten of yours. We will fight!”
“I am offering you a way out of this situation that will benefit us both. Don’t be a fool.”
“All you offer are honeyed words, but we know they are laced with poison.”
“I urge you to reconsider. Think of your wives and children.”
“You threaten our children? Choke on your own blood!” One of his bodyguards shouted, drawing a hidden dagger.
He rushed straight at me, his eyes cold. “Die tyrant!” he screamed as he thrust the dagger forward, the blow aimed for the opening of my armpit.
I threw myself back at the last second thanks to the training I received from greenscale, twisting my torso in the process. The dagger scraped across my cuirass, actually drawing sparks before slicing through the padding of my undersuit and cutting into my arm. Thrown off balance, I hit the ground hard, scrambling backwards out of his reach. Wedge jumped forward, slamming his bulk into the would be assassin. Biggs grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me away from the melee.
The mayor and his remaining guard were running back towards the barricade. I could vaguely hear him screaming “kill them, kill them quickly.”
My heart hammered in my chest. I barely survived that. Rage was boiling up inside me as we made it back to our lines. A couple of arrows thudded into the ground near us, luckily their aim sucked. Wedge followed close behind us, the mayor’s bodyguard lay dead in the grass. His own knife buried in his neck.
“Fuck, why wouldn’t they listen to me? I was being reasonable, yet they rejected me outright.”
I could feel my own blood trickling down my arm, I could smell it in the air.
More arrows started to fly towards our lines, fired in an arc from behind the buildings and barricades. Their range fell well short of our lines. These guys were just firing blind. Their commanders must have jumped the gun, or someone panicked.
“My lord, let me see your arm.” said one of our field chirurgeons.
I held it out to him whilst trying to calm down. The adrenaline crash making me feel jittery.
“It appears the wound is superficial but it may need some stitching.”
“Am I in any danger of bleeding out?”
“No my lord, but..”
“Then it can wait. Just bandage it for now.” The moment he finished wrapping the cut, I spun away from him to address the troops “My brave soldiers! You all saw what happened. I gave them a fair chance to return to the fold, and they answered me with drawn steel. I will not give them another chance to return only for them to slit our throats while we sleep. First two rows, load crossbows and ready the shields! Archers, nock flaming arrows and burn that town to the ground! NO SURVIVORS!”
With those words the twang of a thousand bowstrings filled the air. Streaks of fire flew through the morning sky in a graceful arch, before descending on the town. A second volley followed shortly, and then a third, and a fourth. Those arrows that didn’t hit the rooftops vanished behind the buildings. Screams of panic and pain began to rise. The fire was already starting to spread. The thatch roofed buildings burned the quickest. The flames spreading easily. The wooden rooftops took longer for the flames to grab hold. The only buildings spared for the moment were the ones who had metal rooftops. But they would burn too as the fire spread.
From behind the barricades the militia returned fire, and this time their aim was better. A couple hundred arrows struck our lines. Most were caught on shields, but a few found their mark. I ducked behind one of the supply carts as arrows thudded into the wood.
“Shield wall, advance twenty paces. Crossbows follow behind, take down those archers at the barricades!” I shouted.
As commanders shouted to relay the order, the front of our line nearest to me began to move. Those troops carrying Pavise style shields took the front, forming a moving wall for the crossbow men to follow behind. Once in range they hunkered down, giving the crossbows a clear shot. Their much sharper thwacking sounds filled the air as bolts whistled towards their targets at great speed. Some of the steel tipped bolts punched clean through the rickety barricades. Cries of pain filled the air. More flame arrows flew overhead, landing deeper inside the town. Black smoke began to darken the skies.
“Signal the ships, begin phase two.” I said to one of my aides.
He nodded then blew a long series of notes on a horn. The sound was repeated by another hornblower down our ranks, and then another and another. Making its way back towards the camp.
The outer houses of the town were now fully ablaze. Forming a ring of fire around the town. Some of the militia abandoned the barricade in a futile effort to try and fight the flames.
“Close ranks and move in, twenty more paces. Keep the pressure on!” I bellowed. And the troops moved to obey.
Resistance at the barricades had been reduced to a minimum as they too had begun to catch fire. Those few militia brave enough to stay at their posts were soon brought down by crossbow fire. Here and there a few foolhardy souls leapt over the flaming barricades to charge at us with swords drawn. They barely made it a dozen paces before being riddled by bolts. All we had to do, for now, was wait and keep them contained.
Time passes strangely on the battlefield. When you’re under fire every second feels like an eternity, while a five minute lull in the fighting can feel like the blink of an eye. It makes it hard to keep track. I guess this is why generals usually don’t lead from the front.
Before I knew it the drone of our airships reached my ears as they arrived at the frontlines to begin phase two.
I had discussed this with the various ship captains the night before, just after my arrival at camp. If things went south, like they had, they would fly over the town in a cross pattern. Dropping burning oil and flaming arrows while they passed. Then they were to take up position over the water to blockade the harbor and sink any ships attempting to flee via the sea.
The fires were reaching their peak now. The roaring of the flames becoming an all consuming din. One of the first buildings to catch fire near my position collapsed, sending a ball of smoke and flame into the air. The noise of the collapsing structure momentarily drowning out everything else. Even the engines of the airship overhead.
As the ships began their grisly task, the sounds of distant panicked screams joined the cacophony. I tried not to listen. If I didn’t focus on something else my resolve would surely falter. A suitable distraction soon presented itself as over a hundred militia troops began pouring out of the town gate.
Nearly all of them were covered in soot, or in some cases splashes of blood. They charged our lines in a frenzy. A desperate suicide charge. The same thing was happening in other locations. Large groups of them were charging across the burning remains of the barricades to engage our lines. Crossbows sang in concentrated volleys. Downing many of the militia before they could get close. But even then more than enough made it through.
A good thirty or so smashed into our lines directly in front of my position. Smashing, slicing and thrusting at our ranks with swords and spears. Clubs made from broken table or chair legs. Pitchforks and boat-hooks. Anything but the kitchen sink was used as a weapon. Shields shattered under blows and steel rang like bells as it smashed against armor. I aimed high with my spear, stabbing over the shoulder of the trooper in front of me and catching his assailant in the neck.
“Thanks!” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Eyes front!” I yelled back. “Don’t look away from the fight!”
It’s a slaughter. There’s simply no other word for it. Their charge was a foolish, desperate gambit. To this day I’m still not sure what they were trying to do, but we struck them down to a man.
I forced myself to look as my soldiers finished off the injured. This is my new reality, and these are the consequences of my orders, I cannot shy away from them.
The fire was running out of control now, I even heard some distant explosions. Probably stores of flammables like oil.
“I hope you don’t plan to order an advance.” Said Greenscale, appearing by my side.
“Into that inferno to sweep the streets? Do I look like an idiot to you?” I scoffed. “We can comb through the ruins for survivors once the flames burn themselves out.”
“Maybe you are cut out to lead after all.” He replied with his usual smirk.
“Or maybe I’ll order just you to advance. You are our self proclaimed best scout after all.” I deadpanned, which only made him grin more.
“My humblest apologies, my lord.” he mock simpered, grin never leaving his face.
We held position, letting the fire do the grisly work for us as it spread ever closer to the center of town. There was a distinct scent in the air now, kind of sickly sweet almost.
“The stink of burning flesh.” Greenscale remarked when he caught me sniffing the air.
The realisation was almost enough to make me puke. A shout from one of the troops drew my attention, and I turned to face the direction they pointed. A small figure stumbled towards us. Silhouetted against the flames that were consuming the town. The troops around me raised their weapons, only to wait as the figure drew near.
Once more, fear grabbed me by the throat.
It was a boy. A small fish boy. Covered in soot.
“What do we do with him, sire?” one of the men asked.
I looked at him, and my fear became reality.
I could see it in his eyes. Hatred. Hatred for the one who destroyed his family, his life, his world. He would grow up nursing that hatred, and one day, many years from now he will act on that hatred. He might not raise an army against me, or become a great fighter and challenge me. But he will act. Maybe leave a door unlocked at a critical moment. Maybe leave a message out to be found. Or pass on a tiny bit of gossip to the wrong ears, and I will be undone.
Evil Overlord rule number one-hundred-thirty: If I decide to destroy an entire town, I will remember to kill any children who would grow up to seek revenge against me.
I looked at the troops near me, waiting for my word. I turned away from the town. Away from the boy.
A dark doorway looms before me.
“I said no survivors.” The lack of hesitation in my voice surprised me.
With those words I stepped through, into the darkness. Behind me, crossbows twanged, and the doorway slammed shut.
"Iacta alea est.” the die is cast.
There is no going back.
Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 5: All work and no play.
Chapter 5 All work and no play
Paperwork, how I loathe paperwork. Sadly, as ruler of an empire, paperwork is unavoidable. Evil runs on paperwork. At least for now. Plus, I don’t trust any of these people to do a proper job without constant oversight. They were sticking their hands in the proverbial cookie jar far too much for my liking. Money and material went missing by the wagonload on an almost daily basis. How the previous king kept everything running is beyond me. If it wasn’t for the obscene amount of personal riches and plunder, stashed away in the castle vaults, I would have been in serious financial trouble already. So that meant I had to double check everything.
One thing quickly became clear; the whole system needed to be cleaned up from the top down, starting with the most corrupt officials. So I had them all replaced, and to keep the newly appointed ones from picking up where their predecessors left off, I imposed some harsh penalties. Anyone caught ‘stealing’ from the system in the future would automatically be sentenced to do time in a special penal workforce, and then shipped off to do several months of hard labor in the mines, under the supervision of the diamond dogs. It’s not a great solution, but it’s all I have for the moment. Rooting out all the corruption will take time. Time and... paperwork.
A knock on the door provided some blessed relief from the endless rows of numbers and dull dry reports.
“Enter!” I barked, and the door swung open to admit Grubber, who shuffled up to my desk.
“Begging your pardon, Sire, but you are late for the weekly meeting.”
Was it that time already?
“Very well.” I said as I pushed back my chair and stretched to work the kinks out of my back, before grabbing a stack of designs I had been working on inbetween paperwork.
As we left my office, Wedge and Biggs, who had been standing guard outside my door, fell in behind me. Both of them sported brand new, custom fitted armor. A reward for their loyalty and service. Without them I would surely have died back at Blackreef. The trip to the meeting room did not take very long since I had the official one moved to a location much closer to my ‘lair’ as the minions were calling it. I don’t want to waste time running all over the place, so I had everything moved closer together for efficiency’s sake.
“Gentlemen, I hope you have some good news for a change.” I said as I entered.
“My lord, all but one of the coastal towns are back under our control. The citizens are on edge, but order has mostly been restored. The final rebel holdout is located in the town of Sandhill. They refuse to surrender even now.”
“Still? It’s been six weeks, gentlemen. Six weeks. This uprising should have been over four weeks ago.”
“We’re doing the best we can, my lord. But Sandhill has actual intact defences that can withstand a prolonged siege. It was built as a fallback point in case of invasion by sea.”
“No excuses general. I’m done wasting time on these freedom fanatics. The empire simply cannot afford it, it’s eating our resources and eroding both morale and stability in the rest of the empire. We are finishing this before week's end.”
“My lord, are you ordering us to implement the Blackreef protocol?”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I muttered sarcastically. The general just nodded. “In that case, yes, yes I am. Surround the town, then have the ships torch the blasted place to the ground from the air and let’s be done with it.”
“Aye, Sire. It will be done.”
“And make damn sure there are no survivors. The last thing we need is for them to slip away and begin another revolt in the future.”
“Understood, Sire.” he saluted smartly.
“Good. Anything else?”
“I be having good news for you, my liege.” Said Bones.
“Bones, good to see you.” I said as I shook the diamond dog’s massive hand. “I could use some good news.”
“Then this should be pleasing you, Sire. My dogs be finding the things you ordered us to fetch.” he beamed.
“You found a source of copper?”
“Yes, and also that other thing you said to look for.” He replied as he placed a large chunk of rock on the table.
My eyes lit up as I recognized what he had brought me, my mood instantly improved.
“That is fantastic. Tell your work crews to start mining and stockpiling it all immediately.”
“What’s so special about this rock?” Asked Grubber while eying the pockmarked piece of ore.
“That, my simpleminded friend, is Bauxite ore.”
“What’s it good for?”
“It’s the main source for producing one of the most useful metals in existence. Aluminium. And when combined with copper and a few other ingredients we can eventually produce Duraluminium. An even more useful alloy that is both light and strong. Speaking of useful, where are we on glass production?”
My newly appointed overseer of industry stepped forward. I couldn’t recall his name right then. He was a tall, gaunt fellow with a face like a catfish. “We’re having some trouble getting the sheets up to the size you specified, m’lord.”
“What’s the issue?”
He shrugged. “Mainly lack of experience and proper tools, m’lord.”
“Now that this little civil war is coming to a close, have the forges and engineers ramp up tool production, and see about finding more master glass blowers to instruct the workforce. This project is vital for our prosperity.”
I handed him the stack of blueprints. These were the next upgrades for our workshops. They included several designs for lathes and mills for both metal and woodworking.
“Make sure these get distributed to the forge. I want as many of these in production as is feasible, and shipped to every workshop in the empire. Along with copies of our existing power tools, and the steam engine. It’s time to spread the new production methods far and wide.”
“At once, m’lord.” he said, before exiting the room with a courteous bow.
Hopefully the distribution and decentralization of our new production methods would speed up production time on my current project. You see, the soil of the stormlands is of poor quality, and the weather is harsh year round. To eliminate, or at least reduce our dependence on imported produce I've ordered the construction of several massive greenhouses in order to set up hydroponic farming, since there is no shortage of fresh water.
We’ll be using fish waste to make compost fertilizer, since there’s no shortage of fish on this island either. By combining these methods, we can produce much more, with less material.
It's a tall order, and there are many steps that need to be taken before we can get these greenhouses up and running. Not the least of which is creating an actual power distribution system. But now that we finally have a source of copper I can begin the design and construction of our first electric generators and build an actual power plant. Which will take……oh my giddy aunt.
It suddenly hit me just how long it would take to uplift this island out of the dark ages. Construction work alone would take months. Not to mention training these people on how to actually operate all the new inventions I would introduce. How in the world would I raise an army advanced enough to do battle with forces wielding god knows what levels of advanced tech and supernatural abilities, before I would succumb to old age?
“My lord, are you alright? You look a little paler than usual.” grubber asked, concern clear in his voice.
“Grubber…”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Magic exists in this world right? What do you know about it?”
“Nothing really. I know there’s some fancy spells out there, but I have no idea how it all works.”
I looked at the other occupants of the room “What about the rest of you? Do any of you have any magical skills?”
They all answered in the negative.
“How is that possible? Your airships use magic rocks to power them for pete's sake.”
The chief liaison to the guild of engineers coughed politely before speaking. He was a pot-bellied lizard with thick arms that were obviously used to swinging around heavy tools. “My lord, while its true that we use certain magical resources in the production and operation of our ships, it is a far cry from other magical arts such as spellcasting.”
“Then I want you to find me the best magical expert money can buy, and I need them yesterday! In the meantime I want you to show me everything you know about magic as it relates to engineering.”
“As you wish, my lord. Whenever suits you best.”
Magic, as I discovered, is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a force that can bend scientific principles, indeed the very laws of the universe. It will allow me to cut some corners here and there. The problem with it, is twofold. For one, spellweaving and enchanting is very complex and requires great comprehension and precision. Without the link to the compendium to expand my knowledge I doubt I could make use of it at all. Runecraft, by comparison, is the easier path to master.
Secondly, magic doesn’t easily integrate with advanced technology. It works for simple constructs like the engines currently being used by the airships. But the more complex a system becomes, the more the magic seems to work against it, rather than with it. As if it somehow resents being shackled , for want of a better term, by the technological. Almost as if it had a will of its own. Hah, that almost makes it sound like the goddamn Force, but I digress.
The point is, even with the compendium as a virtual cheat code, it will take some time to integrate the two, and master them. The problem is compounded by the fact that I am a being from a world that has inherently no magic. Which means I can’t weave spells without a pre-charged foci or other specialist tool.
I rubbed my eyes tiredly. I had been in my study for hours, poring over volume after volume on various forms of magic and their uses that the guild of engineers had provided for me. Even with my expanded mind my brain was starting to feel like mush from all this reading. I hope my minions can find me an actual expert on spellcraft soon.
Deciding to take a break, I pushed open the door into the chilly hallway and made a mental note to add better insulation to the already extensive list of upgrades for the castle. Frankly at this point it might be easier to build a new base from scratch, but with current resources at their limit that would have to wait. My stomach chose that time to announce its desire for sustenance with a loud growl, and rather than call out for a servant to fetch me a meal, I decided to head down to the kitchens for a change.
The kitchens were relatively quiet for the moment. With only the head chef and his two assistants there doing prep work for tonight's dinner.
“My king.” the head chef exclaimed upon spotting me. Dropping into a bow. His two assistants following suit. “What brings you to my humble kitchen?”
“Please, stand. I dislike needless groveling.” I said whilst leaning against the isle. “I was feeling peckish so I figured I’d come down here for a bite. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Sire. You are always welcome in the kitchens. Please, sit, I will make something for you right away. I have procured some fine fresh vegetables. I will whip you up something nice.”
I wasn’t really feeling in the mood for greens. I was craving some meat. Aside from some fish I hadn’t eaten any meat since my arrival in this world. “Is there no way to get a good steak around here?” I interrupted the chef.
“But, Sire, cows are sapient creatures.” the chef answered, clearly shocked by my question.
Sapient cows? You have got to be kidding me. Then again, should I really be surprised at this point? I’m living in a fucking alien zootopia.
“What about chickens? Or pigs? Are they sapient too?” I asked.
“No sire.”
“Then you better get me some damn bacon before my craving for meaty goodness makes me kill someone.” I said in jest, but he took me seriously.
“W-we don’t have anything like that in stock, Sire.” he stammered.
I sighed. “Then what do you have? Surely not everyone on this island is a freaking vegetarian.”
“We have smoked fish. And we have a small supply of yeti meat.”
It took a second for that last one to register with me. “Did you say yeti meat?”
“Yes, sire. Would you like some?”
“Well now you’ve got me curious.”
“I shall prepare our finest cut.”
I waited patiently while the chef prepared the meat. If I’d known what awaited me I would have fled the kitchens right there and then. When he finally served up the generous portion I was so hungry I chowed down without hesitation. The taste that assaulted my tongue was the foulest I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. It was gamey beyond all reason, and after chewing it just a little my mouth was overwhelmed with a strong wave of ammonia. As if the meat had been marinated in a bucket of pure piss. I all but projectile vomited it across the kitchen table. It was by far the vilest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. This shit could give Surströmming a run for its money. I rinsed out my mouth and turned to the chef who was staring at me in horror.
“S-sire, I… I uhm… I had no…”
“I assume that wasn’t a deliberate attempt to poison me?”
“N-no, Sire, never!”
“Relax, you’re not in trouble. Just... don’t ever serve that to me again. As a matter of fact, this crap is banished from the castle from this day forward.”
“Yes your mercifulness. Never again.” he groveled as if one wrong word would mean he would be the one getting cooked next.
“Oh stop that. Just find me some bacon and all is forgiven. It’s only food.”
“Yes sire, it will take a few days though.”
I waved him off. “That’s fine. In the meantime just make me an omelette.”
“I…” he seemed ready to cry, “I’m sorry, Sire. But we ran out of eggs yesterday.”
I resisted the urge to facepalm. Fucking perfect.
I barged through the meeting room doors like a thundercloud. To say I was pissed off would be an understatement. I slammed my copy of the progress report down on the table and gave everyone present my best withering glare.
“It’s been three months gentlemen. THREE FUCKING MONTHS!! Why is the work progressing so slowly?”
No-one forwarded an answer.
“When I ask a question, I expect an answer. What is the goddamn problem? Are you people simply inept at your jobs? Do I need to find some replacements? Get things back on track!”
“But my lord, we just don’t have the materials.” sputtered my overseer of logistics.
“What are you talking about? I put in the import paperwork myself. So why aren’t they here? Do you have ANY idea how much these delays are costing us?”
“It’s the pirates my lord. Those damn parrots keep raiding our ships.”
Seriously? The pirates are parrots? This fucking world, I swear. “So why have they not been dealt with?” I asked, forcing myself to calm down.
“We tried, sire. But we only have so many ships to patrol the entire stretch of ocean between us and the mainlands.” Said Fleet Admiral Ironbrow.
“And what about armed convoys?”
“As I said sire, there just aren’t enough ships to both patrol the oceans and guard every…”
I held up my hand to silence him. “I’ve heard enough. Clearly the status quo isn’t working.”
“Then what do you propose, oh great and powerful leader?” Said Strife. I hadn’t even noticed him before he spoke up. He has an uncanny knack for blending in, which seems odd considering he’s such a strangely unique creature, you’d think he’d be the first thing you notice.
“Suspend all transport activities. Pull all the ships back to the island.”
“All of them, my lord?” asked Ironbrow.
“All of them, Admiral.”
“Are you insane!? We need to maintain our supply lines!” Strife hissed.
“I don’t plan to just sit around and do nothing. We will bolt every last weapon we have onto those ships. Load them up to the gills with as many troops as they can carry and then form them into a great armada. We will hunt down and capture a single pirate ship and put the screws to its crew. They will lead us to the rest of them.”
“And then we’ll destroy them.” Strife said with glee.
“Wrong. We will make them work for us. If they refuse that offer, Then we’ll find a way to destroy them.”
“Why would you make scum like that work for you? They will betray you first chance they get.” Said Ironbrow.
“You are correct, Admiral. Privateers make for unreliable allies. They are more concerned with greed and will take the course that will net them the most profit at minimal risk to themselves. Right now, raiding us is the most lucrative. We have to make it very unappealing to them. We have to buy ourselves time.”
“We should just kill them outright.” Strife growled.
“If it were that easy I’m sure that idiotic predecessor of mine would have done it. He didn’t strike me as the type to suffer setbacks to his plans. The fact that these pirates are still around suggests our strength is on roughly equal footing. Would that be a fair assessment Admiral?”
“That would be fair, my king.”
“So we will have to find a way to neutralize them, until we have the upper hand. The best way to do that, for now, is to have them on our side.”
As my words sunk in, everyone present started nodding in agreement.
“Evil overlord rule number two-hundred thirty-nine, I will always remember the motto: ‘Overkill is good, overconfidence is not.’ Always assume that your enemy might be stronger than estimated and plot accordingly."
“That is sound thinking, my lord.” said Admiral Ironbrow.
“Its paranoia is what it is.” Muttered Strife.
“It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.” I shot back. “This discussion is over. Make it happen.”
“By your will, Sire. We will get the word out.” said ironbrow.
Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 6: Avast ye scurvy birds!
Chapter 6 Avast ye scurvy birds!
‘This is insanity.’ I thought to myself as I stood on the aft castle of the “flagship”. If one could call it that.
Let me clarify.
I don’t know what it is about this world, but weapons technology seems to be stuck in early medieval or late roman era. The only explanation I can think of is that the armies of the strongest nations rely heavily on magic. That in itself is a worrying thought, because I’m laughably ill equipped to deal with that right now.
Currently we were flying on our own. The rest of the armada was following far behind at a much higher altitude to use the clouds for cover, while we pretended to be a trade vessel just going about its business. There have been a lot of raids in this particular area, and we were hoping to attract attention. If a pirate ship shows up, we’ll let them come close. Once they try to grapple us we’ll launch a signal flare so the armada can descend on it. I just hope we don’t go down in flames before they get here.
The one thing I do have faith in are my fighting forces. They are motivated and have the best weapons and armor our current level of industry can produce. I doubt the pirates are as well equipped, but you never know. I find it better to err on the side of caution.
It was hours later when the lookouts raised the alert. A ship was barely visible on the horizon, but according to them it was headed straight for us. With all trade traffic grounded on my orders, that made the probability of them being pirates almost a hundred percent.
I involuntarily tightened my grip on my spear. This would be my second real battle since the burning of Blackreef, and even though I plan to stay away from actual combat as much as possible, it pays to be prepared. That is why I have been doing combat drills with Greenscale every day since then. He tells me I have improved from dead meat to only mostly dead meat. A backhanded compliment that did little to boost my confidence.
For a brief moment I wished he were here with me. As much as I hate to admit it, I actually missed his banter and dry wit. He had more important duties at the moment however. Namely to train my royal guard.
“Orders my lord?” the captain asked as he stepped up beside me.
“You know the plan, captain. Draw them in, let them make the attempt to board, then we counter attack. I leave the boarding action in your more experienced hands.”
“As you wish my lord.”
I stood silently as I stared at the pirate ship slowly coming closer. It took nearly an hour for them to catch up to us. The captain took us through a series of maneuvers to make it seem like we were trying to run for our lives. It egged them on perfectly. Slowly they closed the gap, and finally they were close enough that I could get a proper look at their crew.
They really were parrots. Man sized anthropomorphic parrots. And they didn’t look friendly. They were brandishing an assortment of swords and cutlery. Some had a crazed look in their eyes, practically foaming at the beak. As the gap between the ships closed, a couple of ballistae and smaller harpoon turrets turned towards us.
We had ballistae of our own, but they were currently covered under tarps and nets to make them look like cargo. They wouldn’t be deployed until the last possible second.
The enemy was less patient. The moment we got within maximum range they fired. Their first shot went wide. Missing our hull by a wide margin. Their second shot however, slammed into the side of the forecastle. A single wooden bolt with a barbed iron head, fitted to a length of rope. The ship lurched slightly when the rope went taut and they started trying to reel us in.
“Wait for it.” the captain said calmly to the deckhands, eager to uncover our own weapons.
The gap closed ever further, and a second bolt hit our side. Reeling us in faster.
“Waaait for it.” the captain said again.
We were close enough that I could clearly hear the pirates shouting taunts at us over the wind. Slinging insults and promising grave bodily harm, and some choice titbits about our mothers.
“NOW!” yelled the captain.
In one fluent motion the deckhands drew back the tarps and nets. The ballistae thumped, the deck vibrating slightly as they fired. The barbed tips of their steel harpoons easily penetrated the pirate ship’s hull at this range. Their spring-loaded mechanisms extended their tips even further so they would not come loose. With a snap and a twang the steel cables attached to them went taut. Reeling the ship in closer.
The pirates were confused. Their expressions of glee turning to confusion and concern at our counter boarding action.
I rapidly thumped my spear against the deck, thrice. The signal for my troops to emerge. They sprang forth from below decks, weapons at the ready. A total of forty men. By comparison the pirates only had about seventeen; the average crew for a ship of its size. Wedge and Biggs took up position at my sides, eyes alert and brandishing their weapons. Their presence worked wonders to steady my nerves.
I could see panic started to set in among the pirates after seeing our numbers. They were expecting a ship full of cargo, not soldiers. Their boarding lines were immediately cut. Next they tried to cut ours, but their blades and hatchets couldn’t even nick our steel cables. We had them, and slowly but steadily we reeled them in.
Finally, with a loud crack the two hulls touched together.
“Take as many alive as you feasibly can!” I shouted, pointing my spear at the enemy.
As my troops vaulted across the gap between decks to engage, I walked to the opposite side and fired the signal flare into the sky. Signaling the armada with its brilliant red flash and smoke trail. They should be here within twenty minutes at maximum speed.
The battle itself was over before the fleet even showed up on the horizon. And to my relief I didn’t even have to take part in it personally. They lost five, we lost only one, though we did sustain some injuries. All of the pirates were currently on their knees on the deck, their arms bound behind their backs and glaring at me with undisguised hatred.
“Who is your captain?” I asked. But none of them replied and just glared at me defiantly.
I strolled up to a random pirate in the line and leaned forward, looking him in the eye. “I asked a question.”
“Why don’t you ask your mother? She was blowing the captain last night.” he replied, eliciting a mix of chortles and ohhs from the rest of them.
My voice dropped a few degrees. “I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”
“Go bugger a hippogriff, monkey.” he replied to a chorus of more snickers.
“That’s lord monkey to you.” I replied, then without warning lashed out with my foot, kicking him square in the beak.
My steel toed boots easily shattered said beak, and blood began to leak from it as he fell to the deck, groaning in pain. I didn’t give him time to recover. I simply grabbed him by his filthy shirt, dragged him to the railing, and flung him overboard. His cries of terror slowly faded as he plummeted to his death. When I turned around, none of them were smirking anymore.
Part of me was concerned, because I felt little to no remorse as I flung him to his death. I suppose I could justify it somehow if I really tried, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care anymore. The simple truth is, I am a villain. Justifications only matter to the just. My goal is to conquer the world, and the world isn’t likely to take it lying down. Trying to keep my hands clean at this point in the game would be a pointless exercise in futility.
I pushed those thoughts aside for now, glaring at the crew. “He got off easy. Now I will ask one last time… who is your captain?”
“I’m the captain.” Said a heavily scarred parrot with blue feathers. He didn’t look any different from the rest of his crew. Couldn’t he have had the decency to wear a fancy hat or something? Anything to help him stand out from the crowd. It would have saved me some time.
“Well then, was that so hard? Don’t answer that! The only thing I want from you is the location of your home base.”
“Our what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me captain. You pirates have plagued these skies for over a decade. Surely you all need a place to fence your ill gotten gains and repair your ships. You will take us there.”
“Not going to happen. You have no idea what the others would do to me and my crew if I betrayed them.”
“No, but I will tell you what I will do captain.” I leaned in close. “My men and I, we haven’t had a decent piece of meat in months. And I bet you goddamn birds are close enough to chicken to make a good substitute. So you either give me what I want, or I will have your crew butchered, cooked and eaten, one by one while making the rest of you watch; until you give me what I want.”
“You.. you wouldn’t. You’re bluffing!”
I snapped my fingers. “Wedge, Biggs, go to the galley and fetch the chopping block and some butchering knives. The big ones.”
I stared coldly at the captain while they set everything up. When they put out the knives he really started to sweat.
“Last chance captain. Will you lead us to the location of the pirate’s home, or do we get to enjoy some KFC?”
I doubt they understood what the heck KFC was, but that didn’t matter. I just kept staring at the captain, trying to look as indifferent as possible. He kept glancing from the knives to me and back.
“Nice try.” he finally said. “But no-one eats another sapient being. Only wild monsters do that.”
I sighed and looked to the rest of his crew.
“So what now, tough guy?” he asked.
I pointed to a random pirate and motioned to Wedge and Biggs “That one.”
“What are you doing?” said the captain.
“Wait… stop.” the pirate protested as wedge and biggs dragged him to the block.
“It’s not going to work, just drop the act.” said the captain.
I ignored him and picked up the biggest meat cleaver from the collection of knives. “Put his leg on the block.” I said with a calm in my voice that belied the knot in my stomach. Only through great effort did I keep my hands from shaking as I carried the cleaver over.
“Wait, WAIT! I will tell you the way!” shrieked the pirate.
“Hush now. Dinner doesn’t speak.” I said coldly.
“Enough! Stop this madness!” shouted the captain.
“I could make a: “this is Sparta” joke, but you wouldnt get it.” I said with a wry chuckle that masked the unease in my voice.
“Captain, captain help me!” the pirate blubbered.
“A little more forward, Biggs. I want to chop right there at the thigh.”
“Captaaaaaaain! The pirate howled in panic.
“STOP! You’ve made your point!”
“No, captain, you called my bluff. Now I have no choice but to prove that I DON’T bluff, or no-one will ever take my threats seriously again. What happens now is on you.”
I brought the cleaver down. Once, twice, three times before it severed the leg completely. The pirates' shrieks of agony were like needles in my ears. Luckily he passed out after the second swing. I felt like I wanted to throw up. It wasn’ the blood that bothered me, it's the screaming.
“You maniac!” bellowed the captain.
I grabbed his throat with my blood slicked hand, rising anger and adrenaline lending steadiness to my voice.
“Shut up you miserable wretch. You and your kind have been attacking and plundering my ships and towns, and killing my subjects for years. Because of you thieves, my people go hungry and their homes fall apart, because you keep stealing their food and all the materials required for repairs. Not only that, but you murder the crews of my trade ships. Hard working husbands and fathers who leave behind spouses and children. How many have you killed?”
Before he could answer I punched him in the face, sending him sprawling. “There is no moral high ground here for you to claim. You scum are animals, and I will butcher you like animals to get what I want.”
I walked back to the unconscious pirate, and with one anger fueled stroke of the cleaver, severed his head.
“In the end, you’re just a small fish in a big pond who ran afoul of a bigger fish. Simple as that.”
I dropped the cleaver next to the body. “Take the captain to the bridge and take the rest of his crew to the brigg. If they resist, chuck them overboard. Once they are secure, scuttle their ship.”
“What of the body, sire?” asked one of my crew.
“Take it to the galley. No sense in wasting good meat.” They looked far too pleased with that order, judging by the eager look in their eyes.
“You’re a monster.” coughed the captain as they hauled him away.
“You have no idea what a true monster is,” I said coldly. “Me, I’m just a pragmatist.”
...
I staggered through my cabin door a few minutes later, letting myself sink down onto my bunk. I felt shaky as the adrenaline slowly drained from my system. I did not enjoy that one bit. But I had little choice.
I’m here to bring the pirate clans to heel. If the reports are accurate, the majority of them are repulsive, ruthless scum who have no respect for any authority, save their own. The only way they will even acknowledge me is if they fear me. The easiest way to instill fear is with violence. So If that means I have to personally brutalize and maim a few pirates, so be it. Though one must take care to use violence as a tool and not a crutch. It's a means to reach an outcome, but not automatically the first option if others will suffice. I think I did adequately for now.
A wave of nausea hit me and I barely managed to open the small round window before losing my breakfast. Ugh, why can’t things ever be simple.
Another wave of nausea hit me. I think I’ll pass on any meat dishes for a while.
Black Skull Island was an aptly named place. A black rock formation that, when viewed from a distance resembled a large, horned skull. The small island only had a single settlement whose name nobody seemed to remember. It was here the pirates gathered to unload their ill gotten gains. The stolen goods were then repackaged and sold as legitimate goods through a number of trade ships whose captains were the unscrupulous sort.
Staring through the spyglass I spotted well over three dozen airships dotting the skies over the town. The town harbor housed another dozen or so actual sailing ships. Cloud cover was minimal, so they would spot us soon, if they hadn’t already. I lowered the spyglass and turned to the captain.
“Signal the fleet. Form the ships into two equal numbered lines. Have the second line take up position above and behind us to provide cover. I want our biggest ships to target their lead vessels for boarding. Their priorities are the frigates. Everyone else, target the envelopes on the smaller ships. If they try to swarm us with numbers, do your best to bring them down.”
“By your will, my lord.”
“Enemy has begun to move.” one of the lookouts called.
I raised my spyglass to get a better look. Several pirate ships were moving into a roughly cross shaped formation. One or two others were actually fleeing the island. The rest of them were still hanging stil, but that wouldn’t last.
“Send out our messenger. Tell them the Storm King demands a meeting with their leaders.”
While I stood waiting on the deck my brain was afire with ideas. All of these ships were so… primitive. With barely any firepower to speak of. Designs were coalescing in my mind. Some directly copied from the compendium, others my own imagination, using the technical knowledge inside the compendium to fill in the blanks and make something purely fictional into an actual functional reality. Once this business was done I would put them to paper and start working on the future flagship of my armada. Something actually deserving of the name.
My mind finally snapped back to reality when the captain addressed me.
“My lord, they are sending an envoy ship,” he pointed.
One of their largest galleon style ships broke away from the formation to approach us. A banner of parley fluttering in the wind.
“If they so much as sneeze in our direction…”
“We will send them down in pieces, my Lord. Rest assured.” the captain replied.
I would most definitely not rest assured. Trusting your underlings to have everything in hand without at least double checking? HAH! That’s an easy way for beginning villains to get killed.
The Galleon reached our position and carefully lined up besides us. A gangplank was hoisted into place for their representative. I waited silently as a trio of parrots stepped across. The one in the lead looked like a scarlet macaw. The second had mostly pale cream colored plumage with green head and tail feathers that reminded me of a cockatoo. The third looked like a sun conure.
“So… you are the mighty storm king. Frankly I expected you to be taller. I am captain Darius, these are captains Celaeno and Parveen. We speak for the pirate clans. Your messenger said you’re here to negotiate a deal with us. Do enlighten us will you.” Said the macaw. His voice sounded smug and smarmy. Seemingly unconcerned with facing down a full fledged invasion.
“I hope you are more reasonable than the last captain I had words with,” I replied. Trying to sound as unimpressed as possible. “When people are being willfully unreasonable it tends to irk me. And things that irk me tend to end up dead.”
Their talons inched a little closer to their weapons, but then they thought better of it.
“You came an awful long way and brought such an… impressive entourage, just to talk to us. What do you hope to get out of this?” the one called Celaeno asked.
“More than you like, less than you fear.” I quipped, but they just stared at me unamused. “I want the pirate clans to work for me.”
“Keep dreaming.” snarked the one named Parveen. “We’re pirates. We work for no one but ourselves.”
“And how has that worked out for you so far?”
“Pretty well actually,” Darius shrugged. “We’ve gotten some really good booty over the years, and no one has gotten in our way.”
“Until today. Because now... I am here.” I said, gesturing at the rest of the armada. “The previous king may have turned a blind eye to your antics, but I won’t. The days of you raiding my trade lanes without repercussion are over.”
They scowled at me, but I shrugged it off and continued.
“I’m not an unreasonable person though. I won’t expect a bunch of buccaneers to just pack up and leave. That is why I want you all to work for me , as privateers. You will receive a letter of marque and you are free to raid and pillage at your leisure so long as you leave my settlements and trading vessels alone. I will even allow you to fence your ill gotten gains and repair and restock your ships in my territory, for reasonable prices.”
I could practically hear the gears in their heads turning, and see the greed in their eyes. I’d given them the carrot.
“Of course there are a number of provisos to this deal.” I continued. “I don’t know about you and your crews, but I take a very dim view on rape.”
The two female captains nodded almost imperceptibly. Darius just scoffed.
“I also understand that casualties are inevitable in conflict. Im not some stupid idealist who thinks everything is sunshine and rainbows. But needless cruelty and wanton slaughter on the other hand are a waste. So if you take my offer you will conduct yourselves according to my standards.”
“And if we decide to decline your generous offer?” asked Parveen. “I mean, what's to stop us from killing the lot of you and carrying on like we always have?”
Now came the stick.
“You are free to try, however, if you go down that road I will be forced to reduce your armada and this island to ashes. Those of you who survive the battle will be hunted down and butchered like livestock to feed my army. And before you call my bluff on that, I suggest you speak to my prisoners, who I will turn over to you once this conversation is concluded.”
The smugness didn’t leave their faces entirely, but my words did give them pause. I could see them exchange quick glances when they thought I wasn't paying attention.
“What if we have some demands of our own?” Said Darius.
“If they are reasonable requests then we can discuss them. If you want to be exempt from my guidelines, sucks to be you. These are my terms, and they are non negotiable. You have thirty minutes to decide. Those who wish to be privateers must strike their colors before time’s up. Those who fail to do so will be fired upon the moment time runs out.”
I looked each of them in the eyes as I gave them some last parting words. “I’m creating a new world order. You can either get on board, or get crushed under my bootheel.”
They lingered for a moment, then turned and walked back across to their own ship.
We released our prisoners into their custody and waited for them to leave. The captured captain whose name I never bothered to learn glared at me with murder in his eyes. His crew on the other hand was filled with uncertainty and fear. Good, hopefully they would spread it around to the rest of them, and this whole affair will be wrapped up without further complications.
Bah, who am I kidding? So far this whole affair has been one complication after another.
……
“How much longer?”
“Five minutes left my Lord.” Said the captain.
“If they plan to try something it will happen soon.” I said. Never taking my eyes off the enemy fleet.
A few ships had clustered together. Most likely belonging to their most influential captains.
“Looks like you were right, boss,” said Wedge.
Several ships were breaking away from the rear of their formation. A half dozen or so by the looks of it.
“They’re running.” grunted Biggs. “Cowards.”
“Always eager for a brawl aren’t you, Biggs?” I smirked.
“Brawls are fun.” he shrugged.
“I prefer to handle things without...”
“Incoming!” came a shout from the front.
A ballista bolt impacted the prow. Shattering part of the railing. More bolts came sailing our way. Aside from the runners, the rest of the pirates had apparently decided to attack us.
“They’re firing on us.” Said the captain.
“I can see that, captain obvious!” I snarled. “All craft, return fire!”
The deck vibrated as our gunnery crews returned fire. A dozen ballistae all shooting as one. The rest of the armada followed suit. The air between the two fleets was soon filled with deadly projectiles of wood and steel.
“Concentrate fire on their envelopes!” I yelled before ducking down. A bolt the length of my body passing overhead. It shattered against the deck of the aft castle, tearing a splintered furrow into the wood. “As soon as they are in optimal range, switch to our special munitions.”
My little trump card. These munitions are ballista bolts with a hollow tip. Said tip has been filled with a chunk of magmasite crystal. As it turns out, if you smash a magmasite crystal with enough blunt force they will create a small but intense blast of fire. I found that out the hard way when I experimented with the stuff. Nearly singed my eyebrows off. We don’t have too many of them, since magmasite is too expensive to waste on mass producing these bolts. Hopefully what we have will give us the edge in this battle.
“Signal the ships, both flanks forward. Try to encircle the enemy. Concentrate fire on the center of their formation to try and scatter them. With any luck a few of them will panic and crash into one another.”
Another bolt sailed past, tearing into our envelope. Luckily it didn't cause significant damage. The outer layer of them is covered in toughened yeti hide, and the inner gas pockets are segmented so that if one pops they don't drain the entire balloon at once. Still it's best not to poke too many holes into them.
The fleets closed, and pretty soon our special rounds were put to action. The first volley hit one of their leading frigates. Several bright bursts of fire blossomed across their envelope, before the entire thing exploded in a ball of fire, sending flaming debris everywhere before the remains of the ship below dropped like a stone. Several of the enemy ships panicked, veering away from the flaming balloon as its remains drifted down in burning pieces. Their sudden manoeuvre sent them crashing into other vessels, just as I had hoped, causing significant damage to their hulls.
Their faster schooners separated from the edge of their haphazard formation, engaging our flanking ships in a running gunfight. One of them miscalculated their ascend, and they crashed, hull first into the envelope of one of my ships. The both of them went down in flames.
More and more bolts struck my ship. Clearly they hoped to win this by taking down the Storm King himself. Well, two could play that game.
Scanning the skies, I looked for Darius’ galleon. It wasn’t that hard to spot, being one of the biggest and most flamboyantly painted ships.
“Captain, adjust course and take us in. Bring us alongside that ship!” I shouted
“But sir, we’ll be targeted by their entire fleet.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, captain,” I said as another ballista bolt tore a hole in our hull, big enough for me to stick my head through, “we’re already being targeted by most of their fleet. If we fly straight into them they might be more reluctant to shoot us for fear of hitting their own.”
I then turned to the deck crew. “Port side, prepare boarding lines! Starboard side, ready special munitions. Anything that tries a counter boarding action once we engage, you turn to ashes!”
“We could just retreat to the back of our lines and...” said the captain, but I would have none of it.
“And what? Look like a coward? No captain. As sound a strategy as that is… not today.” I shook my head.
Not today. Today I had to make a stand
I am a villain. You don’t see the likes of Darth Vader cower behind his forces. I just need to be smart about it. Pick my battles. I choose this one.
Our ship surged forward at full speed, straight down their proverbial throat. Several support craft followed suit, providing covering fire. A series of bolts struck our envelope, causing the ship to yaw slightly as the lifting gas escaped, before the captain had a chance to compensate. Our course sent us directly into an enemy sloop. Its smaller hull breaking apart upon impact with our reinforced prow. The screams of its crew as they plummeted to their doom echoed in my ears.
With a groan of stressed material, the captain got the ship back on course. Darius’ ship was dead ahead. I could see her gunnery crews hastily turning their ballistae in our direction. Our own crews opened fire the moment we were within optimum range. Our steel bolts tore through her like a knife through butter. Several of its turrets were torn to shreds by the violent impacts. One of her crew was slammed overboard, impaled by a chunk of splintered railing. Then we followed up with boarding lines.
“Soldiers, with me!” I yelled as the lines snapped taut and began to reel in the galleon. “Crossbows up! As soon as we make contact, fire a volley!”
The hulls slammed together, the wood creaking and splintering in places. A rapid staccato of twangs sent our crossbow bolts flying. Our reward was a series of pained shrieks as they found vulnerable flesh to pierce.
“TAKE THEM!” I bellowed before making a run for the railing. Wedge and Biggs actually overtook me, vaulting the railing with weapons raised. I jumped after them, landing on the enemy deck with a thunk. I almost slipped and stumbled slightly, and it nearly cost me my head as a cutlass sang past my face, causing me to flinch.
’Don’t think, just act.’ Greenscale’s instructions echoed in my head.
I brought up my spear, slamming the blunt end between the legs of my assailant; eliciting a pained caw from the pirate. I followed up with a quick punch to the face. My gauntleted fist cracking across his beak hard enough to send chips of it flying. He took a swipe at me with his blade, it impacted my chestplate and skated off. Leaving a series of scratches in the polished steel. Quickly stepping back out of his range, I brought up my spear, making a series of quick jabs towards his eyes. Just as I planned he brought his sword up to shield his face, leaving himself open. With a quick adjustment of my grip I rammed my spear forward, stabbing him twice in the gut. With only a dirty cotton shirt for protection it meant the end of him.
Around me, my men had cleared a small section of the deck, giving me some room to catch my breath for a second. My men had things well in hand, so with a firm grip on my weapon I made my way to the aft castle, and the captains quarters.
With a swift kick I opened the doors. A pirate lunged at me, but I was ready for it and my spear sank into his throat. Ending his life with a gurgle. Ripping the bloody tip from his throat I turned to face Darius. He was sitting behind his ornate desk as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“We could have avoided this you know.” I said coldly.
“Yes, but where would be the fun in that?” Darius smirked.
“You’re crazy.” I said as I stepped closer, spear poised to end him.
“And you are an idiot.” He snarled before drawing a crossbow from beneath the desk.
Pain ripped through my gut, doubling me over. My hands went numb for a second, and my spear tumbled from my grip. Fire blossomed in my stomach, and I looked down to where the bolt had punctured my abdomen. Blood started leaking from the wound.
”Shit.” was all that went through my mind before my knees gave out and I sank to the floor.
“The mighty Storm King.” Darius said mockingly as he stood up from his desk, drawing his cutlass.
“Once your men learn of your death, your armada will fall into chaos. We will finish them off, and then your precious island will be ripe for the taking. We’ll plunder it to our hearts content for decades.”
I tried to reach for my spear, but the pain in my gut brought me up short. Darius deftly kicked it out of my reach.
“I think I’ll have you stuffed and mounted. Or maybe turn you into a coat rack.” He said mockingly as he put the tip of his blade to my throat. “Or maybe i’ll have your skull turned into a drinking cup. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“You fucking talk to much.” Said a female voice.
Darius spun round, but he was too slow. A blade flashed across his throat, spraying blood everywhere. He fell down in a boneless heap, clawing at his own neck.
I looked up to my rescuer, recognising the cream and green feathered pirate from before.
“You’re… captain Celaeno.” I grunted.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“What?” I asked, unsure what she meant.
“About ending the rape, the needless slaughter. Did you really mean all that?”
“Yes,” I grunted, “I find such things distasteful. Make no mistake, I’m a villain, I’m bound to do things others will condemn me for, but I have some fucking standards.”
“You best not be lying to me.” She said with narrowed eyes as she wiped the blood off her blade.
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
“I have you at my mercy, who knows what you will say to save your own skin.”
“I see your point.” I grunted. My gut was throbbing.
Just then, Wedge and Biggs stormed into the cabin. Seeing my injured state, and the captain standing over me with her sword, both raised their weapons and made ready to charge Celaeno.
“STOP!” I shouted, “She saved my life. Stand down!”
They looked hesitant for a moment, but they lowered their weapons.
With a pained groan I managed to grab the desk, and slowly pull myself up to my feet. I couldn’t stand up straight. The bolt caused too much pain if I tried. Leaning against the desk I looked at the captain.
“You saved me, for that I owe you a boon.”
“All I want is your word, you won’t harm me, or my crew; and you won’t force us to do things against our will. If you can promise me that then…” she hesitated for the briefest of moments, “ then we will work for you.”
“Where is your crew? Why are you on Darius’ ship instead of your own anyway?” I asked.
“My crew fled before the battle started, as I ordered them. Darius refused to let me leave. Piece of shit had no respect for female captains.”
“I say he got what was coming then.” I spat as I looked down at his corpse.
A spike of pain made me double over. My breath coming in short gasps.
“I think, “ I started before coughing weakly, “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. Come with me, captain. You will be an honoured guest until we can locate and reunite you with your crew.
“When you say honoured guest, you mean…”
“Exactly that, captain. While you will have a guard escort during your stay on my ship, you will not be a prisoner. I give you my word, and my word is law.”
She nodded. “Very well, we have an accord.”
“Good. Now let's get out of here. I need to see my chirurgeon before I bleed out.” I grunted as Wedge helped me stand.
As wedge all but carried my injured ass back aboard the flagship my mind was consumed by a singular thought.
”Power Armour. No matter what it takes, I will make myself a suit of Power Armour.”
Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 7: Time is ticking
Chapter 7 Time is ticking
“EEEEAAAAAARGH!!!”
“Bear with it, sire, we are almost done. We just have to cauterize the wound and it will be finished”
I watched as one of the medical apprentices tossed the bloody arrowhead they just pulled out of me into the trash. A nasty, barbed thing designed to inflict as gruesome a wound as possible. If it were within my power to resurrect Darius from the dead just to kill him a second time, I’d do it in a heartbeat. And I would take my sweet time.
”Modern anesthetic, I will make that my next top priority.” I thought, trying to block out the throbbing pain from the hole in my gut.
My mind drifted off a bit as I thought about the requirements for producing anesthetics. The easiest available solution with my current resources, aside from finding out if natural opioids existed here, would be Ether. Which meant setting up production of Ethanol and Sulfuric Acid. Might as well start making Methanol at the same time so we can lay the foundation for the production of simple plastics.
“Bite down on this, sire.” said my chief chirurgeon; drawing me back to the here and now as he shoved a rolled up piece of leather into my mouth. “Try to breathe normally.”
“Easy for you to say, you're not the one about to have a red hot piece of metal shoved into his gut.” I thought as I eyed said piece of steel with trepidation.
“Hold him fast.” the doctor instructed his apprentices, who firmly pressed me down into the table I was reclined on.
When the hot steel made contact I shrieked through my teeth and nearly passed out from the pain. It was so intense it made me nauseous. The sickly sweet stink of my own scorched flesh didn’t help matters. I fought back the rising bile because I did not fancy choking to death on my own vomit.
Every action hero you see in movies always cauterizes their own wounds with nought but a few grunts. Proof that Hollywood has no fucking clue just how much that shit hurts, or they would all be weeping like bitches. I sure as hell felt like doing so.
My vision swam in and out of focus while they put some kind of foul smelling poultice over the wound and then wrapped my abdomen in bandages.
I lay there for a while, struggling to return my breathing to something resembling normal.
“You will be relieved to know that nothing vital was hit, sire, and there were no poisons on the arrowhead.” said the chirurgeon, sounding pleased. “Now, I prescribe lots of rest and a good meal to help your body recover. And we must keep a close eye on the wound to make sure it doesn't turn septic. I do not expect it to, but one must always be cautious. If you experience any signs of fever you must call for me immediately.”
“Thank you, doctor…?”
“Tegu, sire. At your service. Apprentice Gila will see you to your chambers.”
Doctor Tegu was another lizard, with mostly black scales with white markings. His eyes were a shade of deep rose, bordering on red; and they had that wizened look you’d expect from an experienced physician. His apprentice on the other hand had mostly light beige scales with some pale yellow markings here and there, and eyes of aquamarine.
“Can you stand up, sire?” She asked whilst supporting my shoulder. At least I assumed it was a she, judging by the voice.
I still found it hard to tell the difference between the male and female lizards, since they lacked the sexual dimorphism seen in mammals. No breasts or other distinct features. All I had to go on, besides their voice, was overall size and bulk, which wasn’t any guarantee either way.
With some effort I managed to get to my feet. Just then the doors to the infirmary swung open to admit Strife.
“Ah, I see the rumors of your demise were premature, sire” He said, sounding almost disappointed. “Though I must say you do look rather less... formidable, than usual.”
“Rest assured, the king is expected to make a full recovery.” Doctor Tegu replied with a hard edge to his voice.
“That... is a relief.” Strife simpered. “Then, I shall return to my duties, such as they are, and inform the worried masses that the king is expected to make a full recovery. If you would… excuse me.”
With an exaggerated bow, Strife floated out of the infirmary; a look of conniving thought on his face.
“It may not be my place to say this, my lord…” Tegu began once Strife had left.
“Speak freely, doctor. Now and always.” I said, waving away his concerns.
“Then, I strongly advice you to keep your guard up around that one.” He said with clear distaste.
“Oh not to worry, doctor. I’m fully aware he’s the Starscream to my Megatron.”
“Beg pardon, sire?”
“An expression from my home, dear doctor. I’m fully aware he would betray me in a heartbeat if I show any weakness and he believes he can get away with it.”
“I suppose knowing is half the battle.” He replied, making me chuckle, which then sent me into a coughing fit.
After almost two weeks in bed I was going stir crazy. The constant ache from my healing wound kept me from getting a full night's sleep, so I felt tired and cranky most of my waking hours. The lone boring hours when I wasn’t drawing up more blueprints were also playing havoc with my mind. In the past few months I've had little time to really look back and contemplate my actions. But now, lying here in this bed, I was starting to feel lonely and homesick. I missed my crappy apartment, filled with all my nerdy stuff. It wasn’t much, but it was my home.
Home…
People always think living in a fictional world is awesome. I used to think that way too. But being bedridden with an aching arrow wound really drove home the ugly reality of it all. Being a villain should be easy. Just rule over your subjects with an iron first, kill those that stand in your way and gather yourself a harem full of sexy babes. Too bad the only babes around here look like lizards, fish or satyrs. Not exactly my idea of harem material.
Granted, Captain Celaeno looked at least a little cute. But more in an adorable pet cockatiel sort of way. Not in a “I wanna make out with her” kind of way. Besides, how do you kiss a girl with a beak instead of lips?
And then there’s the constant fear of rebellion and assassins. I kept a loaded crossbow by my bed even now, after all this time. The empire may be secure for the moment, but I'm not taking any chances.
I had just managed to roll slowly onto my other side, when the door to my bedroom creaked open, and Grubber hesitantly stuck his head inside.
“Is this a bad time, my lord?”
“It’s not as if I’m going anywhere anytime soon. What do you want, Grubber?” I said as I switched my brain back into overlord mode . My inner demons could haunt me later.
“I have the latest reports for you here.” he said, holding up a thick stack of papers.
“Read them to me would you?. I’m too tired to bother reading them myself.”
“As you wish, sire.” he said before he cleared his throat. “The fleet reports that the last of the pirates have been tracked down. As per your orders, those who did not partake in the battle have been granted a pardon and are now in your service, and the town on Black Skull island has been burned to the ground.”
He swallowed nervously before reading the next part. “Those who refused to surrender have been hanged, and their bodies put on display around the ruins of the town. Black skull island is now a mass graveyard.”
“And their ships?”
“Being decommissioned and stripped for salvageable parts as we speak, your worship.”
I let out a tired sigh. At least that was one headache dealt with. Only a thousand others left to worry about.
“Please don’t call me that, Grubber. I do not desire anyone’s worship. I’m not some lunatic pretending to be a god or holy figure. You are my loyal aide. I would have you speak plainly, without fear of reprisal.”
“The previous king always told me to shut up, before kicking me.”
“The previous king was clearly a vicious piece of shit, who wouldn’t know a loyal soul from a sandwich. An effective leader should be three things. To his subjects he should be a stern but just ruler. To his allies he should be an immovable rock they can lean on. And to his enemies he should be an unholy terror whose name they fear to speak.”
“Is that kind of leader you will be, sire?”
“It’s what I will aspire to be, yes.”
I know what you are thinking. That doesn't sound very villainous , which is true; but it is good for morale. Being feared by your people is all well and good, but it doesn’t make for the most loyal subjects. If you have their respect however they are far less likely to turn on you. I’ve said it before, but it's worth repeating.
“Now, what's the status of our industry?” I asked.
“Uhm...” he leafed through the stack of reports briefly before pulling out the right paper. “It’s going well, sire. Copies of your designs have been sent to every city and town in the empire. Fifteen new steam engines have been completed thus far, with another twentyseven on the way. Soon every workshop and forge in the empire will have automated tools. And our mining production is back up to a hundred percent.”
“And project Bread Basket?”
“The first greenhouse will finish construction in a few days. We’ve placed a rush order for several hundred glowstones. With the pirate problem solved, there shouldn’t be any problems getting them here in a timely fashion.”
Glowstones are apparently a type of magic imbued crystal, imported from a land far to the north. Across the ocean and past the great desert. They produce warmth and light on the same spectrum as natural sunlight. They are ideal for greenhouses, but hideously expensive. I didn’t have any alternatives though. I’ve only just begun introducing the very basics of electricity. We simply do not have the facilities, skill or materials to produce light bulbs, and a myriad of other things at this time.
“Is that everything then?”
“For the moment, my lord.”
“Alright then, take these to the overseer of industry.” I said as I handed him a stack of papers detailing mass production methods for Ethanol, Sulfuric Acid, Methanol and a myriad of other useful industrial chemicals.
As Grubber left the room I carefully rolled onto my other side and tried to get comfortable. I did not succeed.
The one thing I hated about living in the stormlands was the weather. Nine days out of ten it seemed to be cloudy, with the ever present threat of rain. The chill in the air made my injury ache. The wound was now fully closed and mostly healed, but the scar was still fresh and tender. Like an angry reminder not to do something that stupid again. Six weeks, that's how long I’d been incapacitated. Three of which I'd spent in bed, and the other three I'd been slowly getting back to a somewhat normal routine.
Today was the first time I set foot outside the castle to perform an inspection of the newly completed hydroponic greenhouse. It had been up and running at full production for two weeks now, after a delay caused by errors with the pumping system. Since our electricity production is not up and running yet I had opted for a series of simple mechanical pumps, hooked up to a dedicated steam engine. The excess heat from the steam engine also helped to heat up the greenhouse.
As per my usual arrangement, Wedge and Biggs were following just a little ways behind me as we made our way through the town. Their presence ensured that the populace maintained a respectful distance. Not to mention their presence felt soothingly reassuring.
The greenhouse itself was an impressive sight. Three Hundred-thirty feet long, a hundred-sixtyfour feet wide and thirteen feet high. Entirely made of steel and glass. Inside were layers upon layers of racks and gutters in dozens upon dozens of rows. All connected through virtual miles of piping and tubes through which the nutrient enriched water flowed.
“My king, so good to see you out and about. I hope your recovery has gone well?” greeted the manager. He was a pot bellied, yet otherwise scrawny looking storm beast. His wiry arms looked almost comical compared to his bulging gut. He almost reminded me of an Orangutan.
“As well as can be expected.” I replied politely. “And how do things fare here? Any more problems?”
“No problems my king. Everything is working as designed. Of course we are constantly monitoring just in case there are any more unforeseen bugs to work out.”
“Well then, give me the tour.” I said.
“Of course sire, follow me.” he bowed, then turned on his heel.
“As per your suggestion, the entire place was roughly divided into three sections. One for growing tomatoes, another for lettuce and the final section for growing cucumbers. The cucumbers proved a bit more challenging than the others, but the first crops are growing nicely.”
I nodded and let my gaze drift over the racks. These three crops were specifically chosen because they are quite easy to grow in large numbers with hydroculture. And because they spoil quickly once harvested, they are expensive to import. The average tomato will last for roughly ten days at room temperature once harvested, and it takes a full week for our current airships to fly to the countries we trade with across the great sea.
“In addition to the three main sections, one other smaller section of the greenhouse has been set apart at doctor Tegu’s insistence to attempt and grow medicinal herbs.” He continued.
It was an arrangement I heartily approved of, since medical supplies are always needed, not to mention insanely expensive when bought in bulk.
I was feeling pleased as punch with the current progress. One to two months from now we should have the first tomato harvest. The first batch of lettuce should be ready in six to eight weeks, and the cucumber in four to six weeks. Meanwhile more greenhouses were being built all across the island. Most for hydroculture, but also some for more traditional farming. Barring any unforeseen problems, our food production should be entirely self-sufficient within a year.
A year… I can’t wait that long.
Time is my worst enemy. But what can I do? The entire island is working overtime trying to realize all my projects, and yes it's going really well, but even with everyone working at maximum capacity it’s simply not enough. I need more.
More workers, more raw materials, food, everything. I could feel a headache coming on.
How the hell am I supposed to fight in an interdimensional war for the multiverse when this world seems to be stuck in early medieval levels of technology? Sure there are some modern-ish exceptions like our airships, but they function through a mixture of science and magic. The majority of everyday life is still stuck in a pre-industrial stage. I need this world to surpass twentieth century tech levels if I’m going to even stand a sliver of a chance. But how in the ass am I going to get it all done before I die of old age?
If it's going to take a year just to make this tiny island self-sufficient, how long is it going to take to bring the rest of the planet under my control? It took Julius Caesar nearly a decade, and the loss of over a million lives, to finish the Gallic and civil wars to secure his empire. And that’s small scale, compared to my ambitions. I’ll be an old man by the time the Shopkeeper comes calling. Unless I could somehow magically stop aging.
My thoughts came to a screeching halt. I swear I heard a record scratch somewhere in the background.
I, am, an idiot!
“Wedge, Biggs, we’re leaving.” I said abruptly, turning on my heel.
“My king? Wha-what's the matter? Did I displease you somehow?” the manager stammered.
“Not at all, I just have urgent business elsewhere. Keep up the good work.”
Without sparing him another glance we left the greenhouse and returned to the castle. There was work to be done.
Nothing! I could find absolutely nothing in any of the tomes in my possession that would help me gain longevity, or outright immortality.
Why not simply check the compendium you say? As a matter of fact that was the first thing I tried. But the only thing that I got back from that was a message in glowing red letters that said “You do not meet the requirements to access that information at this time.”
What the actual fuck? Needless to say, that threw me for a loop. It’s in there. I just can’t access it for some unfathomable reason. What the hell was that Shopkeeper trying to pull on me now?
So with that line of inquiry cut off, I decided to shift my attention to local knowledge. But here too I came up short. If the knowledge is out there it's likely being hoarded by an elite few. I could think of a few methods from popular fiction, but there was no way to know if they would work. Or how to implement them.
Besides, some methods are not worth the trouble. Like becoming a lich for example. Too many downsides. And I sure as fuck ain’t gonna pull a Voldemort.
Three days of research on magic wasted. Time to do something more productive.
I made my way to my mad science lair , as I liked to call the laboratory slash engineering workshop wing of my castle. It had been fully refurbished with the latest iteration of power tools and glassware while I was bedridden. The smell of freshly oiled machinery greeted me as I stepped through the door.
“Alright, time to get my Tony Stark on.”
Make way for the REAL Storm King.
Chapter 1: A deal with a devil.
Chapter 1 A deal with a devil.
Everyone has fantasies, and pretty much everyone at one point or another has thought about what it would be like to be the Hero of the story. Fight the good fight, beat the bad guy, get the girl, all that jazz. But tell me, haven’t you ever considered what it would be like to be the Big Bad instead?
Maybe a mighty warlord, or perhaps a supervillain? To be the one in power, making the rules instead of having to do as others say. Someone like Darth Vader perhaps or Lex Luthor. Maybe someone like Sauron or Thulsa Doom, or whoever else you can think of that suits your fancy.
And what if you were given the opportunity to make that fantasy a reality, would you accept?
Well I was given the option, and I wasn’t about to say no. After all, I had little to lose, or so I thought at the time. I just didn’t realise how high a price I would have to pay in the end; didn’t fully grasp the reality of what it meant, until it was far too late to back out.
Oh well, no crying over spilled blood.
It all started on what had to be the crappiest day of my life up till then, it was the perfect shitstorm to bring out the worst in someone, and that alone should have been my first clue that something was wrong.
It was a rainy evening, and yeah, isn’t that a cliché. I was working a job stocking shelves at the local supermarket. It was a crap job with long hours and little pay, but I had no choice since bills needed to be paid. It was late into my shift, and I had just finished with the last of the restocking when my asshole of a boss called me into his office. Long story short, I got fired. He offered some flimsy excuses, but I knew the only reason I was laid off was because he had hired two students earlier in the week who would do the job for less money.
“Sorry man, that’s just the way it goes sometimes.” He said far too cheerfully as I walked out of his office.
I didn’t bother with a response, there was simply nothing left to say and I was seething with anger, wondering how good it would feel to grind his smug face under my bootheel. The shifty fucker waited till I finished all the work for the day before he fired me. A nice heap of salt to rub into the proverbial wound. I walked out into the rain, but not before snatching an expensive bottle of whiskey and stuffing it in my backpack. Consider it my severance pay.
I hopped on the first bus towards my apartment. It was still a long walk from the nearest bus stop though. The streets were pretty much deserted at this hour. Especially with the pouring rain. I really hate the rain. Fortunately I was almost home, I just had to pass through a tunnel and then one more block up. As I walked I fished my phone out of my pocket and hit the speed dial.
“Hello?” the voice of my girlfriend sounded in my ear.
“Hey babe, it's me. Listen, I need to cancel for saturday.”
“What? Why?”
“My jerkass of a boss just gave me the boot. So I need the time to find a new job. Money will be tight for a while. I’m sorry.”
“Then I guess now is as good a time as any to say this.” She replied.
“Say what babe?”
“I’ve been seeing someone else. Someone who really gets me. Who can give me what I need.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “But… I thought we had a good thing going?”
“Look, It’s not you…. No actually it IS you. You’re just such a gigantic nerd. With all the sci-fi and the games, and those little plastic dolls...”
“They are wargaming miniatures...”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about, you’re just too immature. I need a guy who gets me what I need. Someone who will treat me to fancy dinners instead of takeout.”
“So this is really about money.” I replied, my tone hardening.
“This is about my needs , you just don’t get it.”
“No, I think I do get it. Have fun with your own little plastic toy you cold hearted bitch!!!” I said before hanging up.
In a sudden flare of rage I flung the phone away. Goddamnit, what did I do to deserve this? I let out an unintelligible scream to vent my frustration. Its echoes sounding loudly in the tunnel I just passed. As my anger settled I began to regret tossing my phone and went to look for it. I found it lying in a puddle of rainwater, its screen and casing cracked. I tried turning it on, but the water had seeped in and shorted it out completely.
“....... Fuck.” I mumbled weakly.
With a feeling of heaviness I finally entered my apartment building and dragged myself up the stairs. The worn floorboards of the hallway seemed even more depressing than usual. I slid my key into the lock and turned… only for nothing to happen. I tried again, rattling the handle, and still the lock wouldn’t budge. Only when I Looked up did I finally see the document taped to my door.
‘Notice of Eviction.’
That saw me banging on the landlords door and screaming at his half drunk, useless ass for nearly fifteen minutes to no avail. I couldn’t even get my stuff out. How the bloody buggering hell did this happen? What sort of crime did I commit in a previous life to reap this assload of crap karma? Was I some horrible puppy kicker or what?
I stood on the buildings front steps for half an hour wondering what to do, shielded from the rain by the small overhang. It didn't stop the chill from worming its way into my bones though. All I had were the clothes on my back, the contents of my backpack, and my wallet, until I could get into the place to get the rest of my stuff. Maybe I could crash at a friends place for the night. If I hurried I could just catch the last bus. I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders and started to walk back towards the bus stop.
As I walked down the tunnel again, I was suddenly overcome by a sense of vertigo. I stumbled briefly, and when I regained my footing I noticed I was suddenly walking on a hardwood floor instead of concrete tiles. I looked up in surprise and found myself in the middle of a vast, moonlit store. Dark cabinets and display racks stood all around me, and a multitude of paraphernalia hung from the rafters.
“Welcome to my store.” Said an oddly familiar man with a large well groomed beard, standing behind a display counter as he closed an antique cash register. Even more notable than his beard was the paisley pattern tuxedo vest he wore. Its colors so eye wateringly bright that even a blind gay guy would go “Christ honey, tone it down. That vest is loud!”
With my brain struggling to keep up I just stood there dumbstruck as I desperately tried to gather my thoughts.
“Wait, hang on… how did I get here? I was walking through a tunnel and...”
“My store is not bound by walls or limited by inventory. It’s one not governed by convention, or restricted by time. The only rule here is to untether your imagination, and release it on the universe.” He said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I’m afraid you lost me there.” I said, but he seemed undeterred as he spoke.
“There’s a reason you’re here. It’s in your blood. A primal need to pitch yourself against the unknown. Your kind thrive at the brink, you flourish under uncertainty. But to do so dear shopper, requires the very finest of wares.”
“Look man, you got a great sales pitch, but I have no idea what it is you’re trying to sell. Or if I’m even interested for that matter. I got enough shit to deal with right now.” I said, but again he seemed unphased. If anything his eyes sparkled with even greater enthusiasm.
“What do I sell?” Said the man, a smirk appearing on his face. ”What I sell, is glorious pandemonium. A glimmer of oblivion, mastery over time and space, and Instant immortality. I sell a peak at the abyss, a catalog of quests, and the occasional nightmare.”
As he spoke, cabinets lit up, displaying the wares within. An incredible mixture of weapons and armor, both of the fantasy and science fiction varieties. There were swords and guns, axes and lightsabers, daggers and plasma rifles. Partially assembled power armor, and tomes glowing with spells. There were objects I cannot even begin to describe. Mysterious orbs of power whose functions I could only guess at, and tiny hunter killer drones that twitched and beeped as if eager to get to work. A dragonborn helmet sat in a display adjacent to a mannequin draped in assassins robes. There were knick knacks and scrolls, even entire vehicles. I caught glimpses of shadowy monsters, lurking behind doors I hadn’t noticed before, and various artificial eyes tracking me from every corner, nook and cranny.
“What I sell, is life and death itself. The real question is…. What are you looking for?”
The moment he asked that question I felt as if something ancient and powerful was gazing at my very soul. Scrutinising it from every conceivable angle, and beyond. I could feel my heart skip a beat.
Swallowing to ease my now dry throat I asked: “Who are you?”
“Me?” the man smiled. “I’ve had many, many names and I’ve inspired many more. I’ve been known as Anansi the Spider, Iktomi, Maui, Rumplestiltskin, Kutkh, Azeban the Trickster Raccoon, Hermes, Dolos, Mister Mxyzptlk, Puck, Susanoo, Loki and Daucina. But you can just simply call me, The Shopkeeper.”
“This… this can’t be real. This is some kind of hoax right? Some hidden camera show? Come on out guys, joke’s over.”
“Oh this is very real my friend. In here, in this place of wonders and terrors, all your hopes, dreams, your desires, your fondest wishes and your darkest fantasies; All of them are for sale.”
“Look, there has to be some kind of mistake. I mean why bring me here of all people? I’m just a nobody.”
“And are you not entitled to dream, mister nobody?” Asked the shopkeeper.
The lights seemed to dim and the atmosphere felt strangely heavy as the shopkeeper spoke.
“Who are you, not to be great? Just think. You, with the imagination of a brilliant child and the powers of an ancient god. Who are you to be ordinary? You, who can rescind life, or raise the dead.
Who are you to be afraid? You who can serve as judge and jury while hoarding infinite lives. Who are you to be a slave to the past? You who can travel time like the oceans and rewrite history with a single word. Who are you to be anonymous? You whose name should be spoken in reverent tones, or in terrified whispers.
Who are you to deny greatness? If you would deny it to yourself, you deny it to the entire universe. And we will not be denied.”
His words made my head swim, made me think of the possibilities. If this was real, if anything was for sale here... I could attain whatever I desired. Become whoever I desired to be. Whatever I scarcely dared to dream. There was only one problem though.
“What you’re offering sounds... fantastic, but I don’t think I could afford it.” I said.
“Nonsense, my prices are very reasonable. A small payment up front, plus a favor owed once you’ve achieved your goals.”
And there’s the catch.
“What sort of favor?” I asked.
“You are a massive geek who loves many things, including superhero cartoons. So undoubtedly you are familiar with the multiverse theory.”
I nodded dumbly.
“There is a war coming. A war between others of my kind and their chosen champions. A one of a kind battle that will determine which one of us will inherit the multiverse. When the time comes, you and as many or as few allies and subordinates as you choose to bring along, will fight for my side, together with my other champions and their forces.”
“Wait, let me get this straight. You want me to fight in an interdimensional war, with the patron of the winning side, a.k.a you , becoming God King of the multiverse?”
“And in return I sell you whatever you desire. And when we are victorious you can return to rule over whatever little region of the multiverse you manage to carve out for yourself.”
“But if you are that powerful, what do you and the others need us for?”
“To circumvent the big triple A.” He said as if it was obvious.
At my blank expression he elaborated. “Absolute Assured Annihilation. We cannot fight each other directly. Doing so would sunder the whole of reality beyond even our ability to fix. That is why we are organising this grand campaign.”
“And what’s to stop you from just taking it all away once you rule? As soon as we hand you the throne you could snap your fingers and depower us all back to helpless little mortals.”
“Every sale is like a contract. It is legal, binding, and absolutely unbreakable, even for me. Whatever power you buy, I cannot take away, neither through direct or indirect action on my part. The only thing that could take it away would be your own stupidity. Like, say, you buy the one true ring, and then foolishly lose it to some midgets who toss it into a volcano.” the shopkeeper stated.
That at least put some of my worries to rest. But I had more to ask, and said: “What If I want your powers?”
“I fear those are outside your budget. Anything else… is fair game.”
“So you could just make me king of the world?”
“No, this is not like a genie wish. Well, not exactly. You don’t just rub a lamp and poof, you are the king. However, I can sell you the means to become a king. I provide you with the tools , but then it is up to you to do the actual legwork.”
He motioned to the various displays behind him.
“I could sell you an eyepatch that will make you a great swordsman. But you would still need to acquire your own sword. Or perhaps a hat that will make you a genius strategist. But you would still need to recruit an army. I could sell you items that grant you the ability to travel through time and change things, but it is up to you to actually make the changes stick.”
He moved over to another display, inside which floated a roughly spherical blob of brightly colored energy.
“I can sell you the means to become strong. As strong as what you would consider a God. But learning how to wield that power is up to you, I’m under no obligation to provide further instructions. Consider it something of a tutorial. A trial run to sharpen your skills before you join the big game.”
He leaned forward on the counter, looking me in the eye with an unsettling smile saying, “And besides, it’s like a very old friend of mine once said: “Half the fun of being a conquering emperor is in the actual conquering.” I do miss Genghis Khan.”
A conqueror. His words resonated with me. As I said before, I can’t be the only one who’s ever fantasised about what I’d do if I was Darth Vader. For one I’d force choke the life out of my ex boss, and my landlord. And there’s a list of school bullies who’d have a severe beating coming their way if I had the means. The dark spark of forbidden desire in my heart was quickly blazing into a bonfire. And like a moth I flew into the flames, heedless of any danger.
“I can tell you like the thought of being a conqueror. Your kind always did desire power over most other things. Not a very original purchase, but who am I to deny the customer.”
As he spoke, he lifted a book from a drawer and placed it down on the countertop. As I stepped closer he pushed the book towards me. The cover was bound in black leather, the title was embossed in red metallic letters.
The Evil Overlord’s Comprehensive Compendium.
A self updating reference guide.
Contains anything and everything one needs to know to become a successful Overlord.
“You’re joking right?” I said.
“I never joke, dear shopper.” Said the shopkeeper. “Well, not when making a sale anyway.”
“I can find this on the internet. The evil overlord’s list. It’s nothing new.”
“But this book contains so much more.” Said the shopkeeper with a sly smile.
“You need laser guns for your armies of doom?” He said as he flipped open the book. It landed on a page that showed exactly how to build a functioning laser weapon. “This book will tell you how to do it using locally available materials. When it says everything it really means everything . Whoever wields the knowledge within this book will become a mad genius.”
“Fuck me sideways.” I said as I leafed through the book. It really did contain pretty much anything I could think of that an evil overlord of any sort could possibly need. From magic swords to space jet fighters.
“How much?” I stammered, barely able to get the words out.
“How much do you have?” Asked the shopkeeper.
I pulled out my wallet. I had a hundred bucks or so left and showed him so.
“That will do.” said the shopkeeper.
Then a thought struck me. “Wait, what if I lose the book, or someone steals it? Or if something were to happen to it.”
“Then you are out of luck. Once the book is yours it’s your responsibility to keep it safe. I make no guarantees.”
“Hang on, is there some way to… to link me to the book. Make it teleport to me or… or better yet, transfer the knowledge from the book directly into my brain? Some device or other means?”
“Oh I like you, dear customer. Most would not think of this until after they'd already lost it. Perhaps something can be arranged, but what will you offer in payment?” Asked the shopkeeper.
My face fell. I had nothing left… except. I took off my backpack and unzipped it, fishing out the bottle of whiskey I pinched earlier.
“Sold.” smirked the shopkeeper and pulled out a star filled orb from below the counter, placing it atop the book. “I always did have a weak spot for good liquor.”
After handing the bottle over I picked up the orb. “So how does this work?”
“It works very well.” smirked the shopkeeper.
Before I could reply I was overcome by the mother of all migraines. It felt like someone had taken a fire axe to my skull, and my whole body felt like I was being squeezed through a straw. I smashed into the counter, barely staying upright as an endless flood of information bombarded my brain. Just as I felt like I was going to pass out, the stream of information stopped. I leaned against the counter, panting and sweating. That was horrible.
“There, one knowledge transfer link established. You still require the book, but as long as the book is in the same dimension as you, you can access its knowledge anywhere simply by thinking about it.”
As the world stopped spinning and the pounding in my skull ceased, I thought of some of the basic Do’s and Don’ts for evil overlords. The knowledge popped into my head nearly instantly. Next I tried to recall the laser gun schematics, and the knowledge and skills required to build one rose to the surface of my mind in an instant. A wicked smile split my lips.
With this book I could truly become someone like, like Doctor Doom or Lord Recluse. Well, minus all the spider limbs because screw that. But hell, I could conquer the Earth.That is to say, first I would sell some of the designs and make a metric fuckton of money, then conquer the Earth.
“Well then.” I said as I picked up the book and stuffed it into my backpack, “This has been an experience. Now if you will excuse me, I have plans to hatch.”
“Yes, about that.” The shopkeeper replied, “This dimension has been designated as a primary recruitment ground for potential champions, and thus it is considered off limits when it comes to tampering. But don’t worry, I know the perfect world for you to subjugate. Do have fun.”
Before I could protest the floor beneath me opened up into a black vortex, swallowing me whole. As I was hurled through the void to an unknown destination, I began to think I made a terrible mistake.
A sudden impact ended my journey through the void. The air was blasted from my lungs as I hit the hard rocky ground. When I opened my eyes I found myself staring at a grey clouded sky. The only sound was the wind, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder.
‘Do have fun’ the last words of the shopkeeper echo through my mind, making me seethe. “Where the hell did that treacherous bastard send me to?” I thought to myself. Its like some cliché Isekai manga. I thought I was going to be conquering the world, not.. whatever the fuck this place is.”
I sat up painfully to look around. My back felt like a giant bruise from that less than graceful landing. The terrain around me was rocky and mostly barren, save for some stubborn, pitiful foliage and moss that clung to the rocks. I appeared to be in a valley of some kind, judging by the surrounding mountains. Not the most hospitable of places. Spotting what seemed to be the outline of a town in the distance, I picked myself up and started to walk.
The walk to the town took a little while and I found nothing of interest along the way. Just more rocks and whatever pitiful amount of greenery that managed to scrape enough nutrients from the soil to survive. As I got nearer I found myself staring at the mismatched architecture of the buildings.
The town appeared like a hodgepodge of half finished projects, with no-one having a clue how to properly finish them. Some buildings were tall towers, while others were barely more than shacks. Some of the buildings were made of stone, others were made of wood. Some were a mix of the two, with missing walls having been roughly patched up with whatever was available. Some had tiled roofs, others were made of thatch or corrugated steel. And all of them seemed to be connected in some way by dozens of pipes that ran all over the place. As if some kind of demented spider had tried to spin a web of metal across the town. There was stuff piled up everywhere too. Boxes, crates and barrels containing who knows what. And then there were the people . I could not believe my eyes.
It felt as if I’d dropped into the Star Wars universe or something. This place was like fucking Mos Eisley meets Zootopia. There were creatures of every shape and size. Walking sharks and talking porcupines. Humanoid parrots as tall as me were haggling with what looked like some sort of Illithid. Shopkeepers were shouting, trying to attract customers to their stalls full of weird looking fruits and vegetables. I peered closer at a couple of them as they made a transaction, wondering what sort of currency they used here. They exchanged some kind of octagonal coin with a kind of X shaped lightning bolt symbol on it. They seemed to be made of iron, rather than precious metals.
“You lost or something?” Asked a shifty looking fish guy.
“That depends,” I answered casually, trying to play it cool, “what is the name of this place?”
“This is Bodge-town, fella. And we don’t take too kindly to strangers here.”
“That must be great for business.” I said sarcastically as I turned away.
“Oi, think yer funny do ya?” said one of his buddies. I could see where this was going.
“Maybe this fella needs a lesson in manners.” Said the biggest of the lot, who looked like some kind of walking catfish while cracking his knuckles.
I frantically tried to weigh my options when a small surge of information flooded my mind as my brain went into some kind of analytical overdrive. Clearly these were just a couple of street thugs, judging from their shabby apparel and crude mannerisms. Used to picking on the weak and relying on gang tactics. They did not appear to be carrying weapons, no visible knives or guns or anything of the sort. And they wore just the bare minimum of clothes, leaving virtually no places to hide any. Show no weakness, project confidence while destroying theirs. Take out the big one and there is an eighty-nine percent chance the rest will fold. Acquire a makeshift weapon, use extreme brutality.
Looking around I spotted the lid of a barrel. Now I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Grabbing the wooden lid in both hands, I slammed it into catfish’s throat, edge first. As he grabbed his neck, struggling to breathe, I smashed him over the head with the lid. He dropped like a stone. Adopting an air of calmness and standing just that little bit straighter, I casually stepped over their downed comrade.
“Would anyone else like to try and educate me?”
None of them moved. They were staring at me wide eyed, as if I'd suddenly grown an extra head.
“No? Then I suggest you pick up your friend and get him some help.”
Once they carried off their downed buddy I found a quiet spot and let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling slightly from excess adrenaline in my system. I wasn't looking forward to doing that again. Hopefully the word will spread and the smalltime thugs will leave me alone. But I best be on guard in case they decide to come back with reinforcements. That’s the downside to such confrontations. There’s always the risk of them trying again with greater numbers. But I could worry about that later. For now I wanted to spend some time observing these… people. Maybe I could find a bar or something. But that would require money, which I didn’t have. But that was easy enough to fix with a little distract and loot .
A thought briefly crossed my mind, ‘Would it not be wrong to steal?’ But I crushed the idea as swiftly as it popped up. How could I become Overlord if I were to shy away from a little thing like theft. Now was not the time to second guess myself or worry about such minutiae.
Making my way back to the market street, I waited for another group of thugs to pass by. Casually picking up a small rock, I lobbed it at the nearest thug when no-one was looking. It hit him straight in the back of the head. I immediately ducked back into the alley and waited. Sure enough, within moments a fight had broken out, dragging a good portion of the streets occupants into the melee. Including the owners of the various stalls.
While they busied themselves trying to brain each other, I slipped behind said stalls and lifted the contents of their cash boxes before slipping away. My first villainous act, petty thievery, completed. Not very overlord worthy, but needs must. With coin in my pocket I made my way to the nearest watering hole.
It didn't take long to find. The place in question was a rackety saloon, complete with those little swinging doors you see in cowboy movies. It was close to the center of town, which I suppose made sense, since that was were people naturally gravitated towards. I looked at the sign above the door, baffled by the strange script.
“This could be a problem.” I thought to myself.
How was I going to find my way around the rest of this world if I couldn’t read the language. But then, as I stared at the sign, the script seemed to change before my eyes, becoming readable. Actually, the sign itself hadn’t changed a bit, rather my perception had changed. Apparently the mind link I have with the compendium comes with a universal translator of a sort.
“The Swill Trough, how inviting.” I muttered before pushing open the door.
The inside was surprisingly well lit for an otherwise shady looking place. As I pushed my way through the swinging doors, every head turned towards me. There were a dozen or so tables of various mismatched sizes. They even had a pianola stuffed in a corner, which was cranking out a surprisingly jaunty tune that seemed rather out of place for the overall atmosphere of the place. Projecting more confidence than I felt I marched straight up to the bar.
The bartender was a giant bipedal boar sporting a thick handlebar mustache. To round out the western cliché checklist, he was busy drying off a beer stein with a checkered dishcloth. One beady eye turned to regard me as leaned against the bar.
“What will it be?” he grunted.
“Something smooth, but not too heavy.” I replied. To which he produced a whiskey glass and a bottle of amber liquid.
Pouring a decent measure into the glass, he stoppered the bottle and pushed the glass towards me saying: “Six Storm Bucks.”
”So that’s what these coins are called.” I thought as I placed the iron coins on the bartop.
The bartender actually bit one to see if it was genuine. Seemingly satisfied he slid the coins into the till underneath the bar.
I studied the liquid in the glass for a moment, giving it an experimental sniff. It looked like Whisky, but it smelled more like Gin. Throwing my doubts aside I gave it a sip. The familiar tingly burn of alcohol enveloped my tongue. It tasted almost exactly like a Gin and Scotch cocktail I drank a long time ago. I swallowed my mouthful, enjoying the pleasant burn as it rushed down my throat. A content sigh escaped my lips. I really needed that.
My moment of bliss was interrupted by the creak of doors and an angry shout of “That’s him!”
The thugs from before, minus catfish were back. And they had brought reinforcements. A burly alligator looking guy, two more shark-like guys, and what looked to be a humanoid rat. And to top it all off they were brandishing clubs. My gut twisted with fear.
“Oi, not in here.” the bartender grunted. “Take it outside. Don’t need no blood on the furniture.”
“Gentlemen, please, there’s no need for violence. Let me buy you a drink by way of apology.” I said. My kingdom for a lightsaber right now.
With my attention so focused on the thugs in front, I never noticed the bartender grabbing a blackjack until it cracked across the back of my skull.
”motherfucker.” was all I could think before my world turned black.
Stars danced before my eyes as my vision returned, and my skull felt like someone had been dancing on it. I carefully reached back, finding an egg sized lump on the back of my skull. The rest of me wasn’t much better. They must have worked me over a bit because I felt battered and bruised all over. The floor beneath me vibrated and seemed to sway to one side before correcting itself. I rubbed my eyes, and slowly my vision sharpened. I was in a cage, and I wasn't alone. There were at least a dozen other beings in here with me.
“Wha? Where?” I said, my speech sounding a bit groggy. Just how long was I out?
A heavy metal spear slammed into the bars in front of me. I looked up to behold a tall humanoid creature covered in grey and white fur, wearing a heavy metal breastplate and an iron mask over its face.
“No talking!” It rumbled menacingly.
I waited silently until the thing moved off, then whispered to the nearest creature, who turned out to be some kind of lizard: “Where are we?”
“We’re on a storm ship. They are flying us to the mines.” She, judging by the voice, whispered back.
“Wait, what? This is a flying ship?”
“Well duh, how else would we get anywhere in a timely fashion.”
”so this world has some kind of aviation technology. But judging from the look of things its primitive at best.” I mused silently. My head was still pounding.
“You seem more concerned about the ship than being sold into slavery.” She said.
That brought my thoughts to a shrieking halt. Shit. Then another thought sent me into a panic. Where was my backpack?
“Have you seen a red backpack anywhere?” I asked lizard girl.
“They probably stuffed it with all the other possessions they took from us,” she said. “You best forget about it. You won't be getting it back.”
”Damnit damnit, how could I have let this happen?” I cursed under my breath. “I totally allowed myself to be suckerpunched.”
I focused my thoughts on the compendium, trying to find some kind of information to get me out of here. Various things came to mind, including how to make a lockpick, but I had nothing on hand to make a lockpick with. And if we were in the air, where was I gonna go? Not to mention that hairy thing from before looked rather strong. I'm no wimp, despite being a human of the nerdy variety, but I doubt I could win against something that had about as much bulk as a silverback gorilla.
“What was that guard thing?” I asked my companion.
“Are you for real?” She asked me wide eyed.
“Humor me.”
“Those are Storm Beasts. They serve the Storm King.”
“And who is that?”
“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” she said dryly.
“What gave it away?”
She let out a grumble. “The Storm King is Emperor of all the Storm Lands.”
“Shouldn’t he be the Storm Emperor then?”
“You’d think that, but the guy fancies the title of King, I guess. Nobody is gonna disagree, he’s the boss after all.”
“Judging from his servants,” I motioned my thumb at one of the Storm beasts at the far side of the hold, “I take it this Storm King isn’t the nicest of rulers.”
“What? The slavery not enough evidence for you?” she snarked, “He’s the biggest tyrant since the disappearance of the Crystal Empire.”
“NO TALKING!” roared another storm beast as it slammed its spear against the cage bars, scaring the shit out of us. It aimed the spear through the bars, straight at my chest. I quickly held my arms up in surrender. “You talk again, we throw you overboard!”
I nodded quickly, ignoring the pounding in my skull the motion created.
We spent the rest of the trip in silence, not wanting a one way ticket overboard since we’re well over two hundred meters in the air. I’m just glad I’m not afraid of heights.
I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next thing I knew someone was roughly prodding me awake.
“On your feet. We almost here.” Rumbled the guard.
Before long a thump went through the ship and we were told to get on deck. We had apparently arrived. The ship had actually touched down on the ground. I half expected it to tether itself to a tower or something. We exited into the dusty air of a mining camp. There were Storm Beast guards everywhere. In the distance beyond the town, a castle loomed. Dark banners flapping in the wind, displaying the symbol of the Storm King. Before long we were shoved into a longhouse looking building. A thick iron collar was fitted around our necks, and a pickaxe shoved into our hands before we were marched down into the mining pit. Thank the maker it was a strip mine and not a traditional one. I didn't fancy being underground in the dark.
“Dig!” one of the guards bellowed once we arrived at a vein of ore.
I tightened my grip on the pickaxe and prepared to deliver my first swing.
It has been three days since we were brought here. Three days of grueling work, swinging picks, pushing carts and carrying raw ore. My hands are blistered and raw from swinging the pickaxe and my shoulders and back are killing me. I'm tired, hungry and thirsty. We are barely given enough sleep, and the food they provide, if they provide any at all, is old and stale.
The only thing that’s keeping me on my feet right now is hatred. Pure, undiluted hatred. The kind of hate you feel all the way in your bones. I guess this is Karma getting back at me for wanting to become a supervillain.
I gnashed my teeth as I seethed in silence. ”Fuck karma, fuck my life, fuck that shopkeeper and fuck the motherfucking Storm King. I will kill that bastard if it’s the last thing I do.” I swore quietly to myself.
Little did I know that chance would come all too soon.
I think maybe another week passed by. It became hard to tell with the endless work and exhaustion setting in.
My pick struck the iron rich rock for what felt like the gazillionth time, and chunks and splinters fell to the ground before being shoveled into the rickety mining cart. As we pushed the heavy cart up the track out of the pit a pair of guards approached.
“YOU!” one of them bellowed, pointing at me. All the other slaves hurriedly took a step away from me. “You come with us!”
I racked my brain trying to think of a reason, any reason they could possibly want me.
“What?” I asked stupidly, earning me a punch to the head and I hit the ground with stars dancing in front of my eyes.
“No talking, you come with us. Storm King wants to see you.”
I didn't have a clue as to why that would be the case, not unless… unless he’s been going through my possessions. There's not a lot in my backpack. My phone, my MP3 player, some knickknacks, and the compendium. This could be my chance.
Before I had the chance to formulate a plan I was being hauled off the ground and frogmarched up the path. The town passed by in a half blur, because most of the time my head was pushed towards the ground. What glimpses I did catch of it showed a pretty basic, or what I imagined a pretty basic mining town to look like. But there were signs of poverty everywhere. Most of the buildings looked worn down, with many a boarded up window because the glass was broken. The inhabitants all looked either miserable, indifferent or completely apathetic.
The castle itself was an entirely different matter. Constructed of stone and steel. It's dark walls just screamed ‘Tyrants Home’ at you. It all looked ridiculously lavish on the inside. Dark marble, rich woods. And everything filled to the brim with valuables. Or at least I assumed it was all valuable, since I have no eye for such things. I can’t tell a ming vase from a piece of Ikea pottery.
At long last we came upon a set of double doors, and one of my guards knocked heavily upon it before it creaked open.
Time to meet this Storm King.
