Reborn Darkness - 10

Title: Reborn Darkness
Book: 1 - Overlady Arisen
Arc: 2 - Home, Dark Home
Chapter: 10 - Settling In
Date: 3567 RE, 22nd of Tyranuar


"Evil morning, your Darkness." A mellifluous voice spoke softly.
Kelaris turned in the large, once lavish bed, pulling the blanket over her head. "Not yet, mother, just five more minutes." She muttered sleepily. 
"As you wish, Mistress." Came the reply. That got her awake, she was never allowed to sleep in, actually being permitted to finally do so made her so surprised she began waking up properly. She sat up, stretching, her hair falling stubbornly into her face. 
"Ugh... morning to you too." Kelaris yawned while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 
"Slept well, Milady?" Aranea asked, bowing her head respectfully to the recently appointed Overlady. Despite Kelaris' earlier assumption, it had proven that the Netherworld was home to a few people beyond the minions, namely a trio of female elves living in the tower before Kelaris' arrival, which Luthyra had teased Gnarl meant that if this pace kept up the elves would soon outnumber the minions in the Netherworld, much to his chagrin.
Aranea was an elegant young woman of Everlight with a discerning eye for details and aesthetics, who was an accomplished weaver and plant-singer. The second, Liliath, was a self-conscious Evernightian with a gentle nature and an exceptional affinity for animals. The last was a ginger-haired, spry girl called Shairis, who in addition to having a keen mind was very enthusiastic about her work and had a particular gift for being organised and staying on top of scheduling and logistics. 
They had been 'recruited' during her father's reign, but had strangely enough all decided to stay in the Netherworld not only through Jinx's reign, but even after the Sacred Light destroyed the forces of Darkness. When Kelaris had asked why, Shairis had just said that it felt more like home than their former lives had. The Overlady doubted that this was the full truth but she had let it be, no need to look a gift horse in the mouth.   
"Reasonably." Kelaris answered as she threw the blanket off her and rose.
"The nightmare of the flames again?" Aranea asked sympathetically.
Kelaris shook her head. "Just stiffness from yesterday's training." She said as she put her limber body through a sequence of morning exercises.
"You want me to have a look at it?" The servant asked. 
"That would be appreciated." The young Overlady settled herself on the basalt floor, facing the balcony of her bed chamber. Aranea swiftly sat down behind her and started kneading her back and shoulders while gently pouring healing magic though her deft hands to ease the tension, soreness, and stiffness. Kelaris purred in relief as her muscles loosened properly and turned to watch out the balcony in appreciation as the spectral darkness of the Netherworld night gave way for its magical dawn, and closed her eyes as the first proper rays of the fiery light kissed her face. 
She had been surprised to discover that the Netherworld actually had a day and night cycle even this deep within the bowels of the earth. And even more shocked to learn that it did not follow any routine of light and darkness in the world above, but responded solely to her state of mind. When she grew tired, every light in the Netherworld, even those of the lava falls and braziers, would dim on their own accord, plunging the realm into a state of dim gloom, and when she awoke in the 'morning', the Netherworld would slowly relight itself until its fiery glow danced across every inch of the realm. 
It had now been a week since she had arrived in the Netherworld. Or at least she assumed as much, as she had spent eight 'nights' here so far. The first three days had been spent exploring the realm that was her new sovereignty. The Netherworld was a virtual labyrinth of caves and caverns that at the height of Jinx's rule had housed millions of minions, but now stood all but empty. And the Tower at its heart was a true dark jewel in its own right.
The time that she had not spent acquainting herself with her new kingdom had been dedicated to becoming introduced to the intricacies of Overlording. Yesterday she had started combat training again as well to get back into proper shape. This included getting her posterior handed to her time and time again by Moriah. He had offered to go light on her, to ease her into gradually improving, but she would have none of that, and had paid for that touch of pride with bruising, soreness, and stiffness, which Aranea was almost finished healing. 
"That should do it." Her servant said as she stepped back.
Kelaris rolled her shoulders and neck, delighting in the limber feeling once more. "You are a miracle worker." 
"Thank you, my Lady." Aranea said, brushing her long, brilliantly purple hair away from her sculpted features.
That taken care of, Kelaris ran through the rest of her morning rituals in short order.
"Are there anything in particular on today's agenda?" Kelaris asked Shairis who had just arrived.  
The ginger-headed elf nodded. "In addition to the routine study and combat training, Giblet would like to speak with you in the Forge, and if it pleases you, Moriah has asked for the honour of taking the Oath of Allegiance, now that the dais and front of the throne room has been cleared of debris."
"Right, the Oath, yes, that was rather important to him. Can you get Gnarl to prepare that while I visit Giblet? He might have finished the gauntlet by now." Kelaris said as she got dressed in her leather armour, which Aranea had managed to repair during the last few days.
Shairis nodded. "Of course, your Overladyship."
Everything done, Kelaris left the Private Quarters and sat course down the spiral staircase running up through the Tower. With the Tower at over two kilometres from foundation to inverted peak, the stairs running almost its entire length would have been far too long and tiring to ever traverse normally; but fortunately they were enchanted so that even the descend and ascend of each of the four two-thousand-steps-long staircases separating the various tower levels felt like little more than fifty or so. This was only for the inhabitants of the tower, of course; and any invader or intruder had to traverse the entire distance in full.
When she arrived at the throne room, she found Gnarl busy ordering most of the brown minions around in the slow process of clearing the chamber of debris, save for Giblet and Nubbin, who were busy in the Forge and the Private Quarters, respectively. She passed the room with jaunty steps, feeling in a bright mood before she arrived at the long platform extending beyond the throne room entrance. Sensing her arrival, one of the flying black rocks detached itself from the swarm circling the Tower to fly down and hover in the air at the far edge of the platform, exactly in time for her to step out on it without pausing. 
The rock resembled a broad stalactite with a surface of a perfectly plane disk roughly two metres across. Cut from the same black stone as the Tower itself, it was one of hundreds that served as a means of transport around the wider Netherworld, and the only way to cross to and from the Tower. As soon as she stood aboard it, she concentrated on her destination, the Forge. In acquiescence, the black rock began swaying gently, like a ship in the water, before slowly hovering away from the platform and then picking up the pace as it swept through the air. 
The basalt rock bore her remarkably rapidly across the yawning fiery abyss that opened like a gaping maw beneath her dark kingdom. 
Within long the Foundations came into view, and the black rock steered with a swaying flight through the heat waves surrounding the great cavern like a shroud, before settling by a protruding stone platform in the cliffside of the great cavern, like a ship laying anchor at a harbour. Wiping her brow from the exceptional heat of all the lava streams flowing through this place, Kelaris stepped off the gently swaying rock and walked towards the forges. Alongside the Minion Burrows, the Foundations was the most important place in the wider Netherworld, home to the fuel and fire of the dark realm's war arsenals. 
Walking across its upper reaches, the Foundations opened up beneath her in a cavernous hive of open halls interconnected by bridges of wooden catwalks and stone arches; its maze-like forges honeycombed with smithies, ore and metal storages, barracks, iron works, cooling water pools, and empty lava stream furrows connected to furnace pits. Beyond could be glimpsed the openings to the great tunnel networks providing the raw materials to supply it all.
Despite the clear evidence of a once formidable realm of construction and artifice, the great Nether-Forge now lay silent and cold as a tomb. Its grand smelters were destroyed, its tools and raw materials looted, its rich adjacent quarries unmined, and its workers absent. Even to a wood-raised elf like her, there was something tragic at the sight. 
But the Forge was not quite deserted. A single solitary cadence of metal striking metal rang out from up ahead, as rhythmic as the pulse of a beating heart.  
Ascending a wide, curved flight of stairs, Kelaris entered the High Forge. It was raised upon an elevated plateau, seemingly lording over the lesser forges spread out far beneath it. This particular forge was something to behold, sited near a great lake of pure yellow lava, and containing huge smelters and furnaces shaped into the form of snarling salamander heads that had somehow survived the invasion, or more likely been rebuilt since. Above these contraptions, a web of glistening, silver-bright arcanium ore ran through the rock walls of the cavern like rivers of moonlight. On a balcony overlooking the rest of the Forge were a few cooling pits of limpid water surrounding a large podium-like device that seemed to serve a similar purpose to an anvil. It was from this podium that the rhythmic sequence of metalworking echoed. Giblet, the brown minion old one, and Forgemaster of the Netherworld, was standing bent over it while deep in concentration, working on something out of her sight.
Kelaris slipped a gentle sliver of awareness about her presence into his mind, and the brown minion soon ceased his work and turned.
"Overlady comes to visit Giblet's Forge, is an honour, Mistress." The minion said, looking at her through the visor of the welding helmet that he never seemed to take off. She was always struck by how big Giblet was; unlike the other minions that did not come higher than to her hip, the Forgemaster reached to her chest and was considerably wider over the shoulders than any other minion. And judging from some of the feats of strength she had seen him display, he was easily stronger than anyone else in the Netherworld, perhaps except Moriah. Kelaris liked Giblet, there was something honest about him, a sense of integrity not just through his obedience to her as his Overlady, but as a genuine part of his personality.  
"You wanted to speak with me, Giblet?" She asked.
The large minion nodded eagerly, and quickly scurried over to a small nearby armoury and retrieved an object he brought back and placed reverently on the large podium for her examination.
It was a beautifully crafted, slender gauntlet of glossy, dark metal that covered the hand and forearm. The gauntlet was unadorned, except for small claws at the end of the fingers, and a large amber gem placed on the forearm just before the wrist.
The last of which was the whole point of the item.

#

"Is the position of Overlord normally hereditary?" Kelaris asked Gnarl on the third day after her arrival, slouching on her crude throne with one leg over the armrest as the advisor ran her through yet another lecture on her position and starting her reign.
"Not at all, Mistress. The position goes to one with the power and darkness to earn it. It just so happens that children of previous Overlords often are well disposed to come with these self-same qualities. Yourself being no exception. But regardless of your suitability, we still need to find an amber gem for you to fulfill the position properly." 
He paused with a displeased expression written across his withered face.
"Unfortunately, Jinx' was stolen by the Heroes when she fell. Whether those idiotic twits actually knew something about its true value or were just taking trophies is inconsequential, it will be almost impossible to turn you into a proper Overlady without it." 
Kelaris sat up properly in her throne. "You mentioned this amber gem before, what is it?
"It is an arcane artifact of evil. It channels your natural ability to control minions so you can direct entire armies with barely any effort once you master it. It can also store a seemingly infinite amount of lifeforce indefinitely, so you won't have to worry about walking back to the Hives every few hours and thus frees you to just cause death and mayhem to your heart's content."
She scratched her chin as a strange thought struck her. "What does it look like?"
Gnarl sighed. "It is an oval, amber-coloured gemstone resonating with dark magic." 
Kelaris put her hand into her pocket and let her fingers glide over the smooth surface of the resin-golden jewel there and felt the strange tingling spreading through her fingers at the touch. For reasons she could still not recall she had carried that thing around since she awoke in the forest. It had somehow seemed imperative not to lose it. 
"Like this one?" She asked, pulling the gem up and showing it to the old minion. Gnarl's eyes widened as he laid eyes upon it. He gingerly took the small, smooth crystal and examined it. Then he looked up at Kelaris with an evaluating expression of newfound curiosity. "Where did you get this?" 
The elf shrugged. "I don't know, as I told you, I have had a bit of memory loss of a few months before I met you. I assume I must have found it... somewhere." She finished a little lamely.
Gnarl was quiet for a moment. "We better get this to Giblet at once, Lady, then he can craft the gauntlet to wear it in."

#

As she was primarily left-handed, the gauntlet was made for her right hand, as was tradition so the Overlord could concentrate on wielding their weapon in their good hand and commanding minions with the other. Removing the forearm and hand protection of her own armour, she equipped the gauntlet. It fitted perfectly, moulding itself precisely to the form of her hand and forearm. It was surprisingly lightweight and comfortable. She flexed her fingers and clenched her hand into a fist, causing the gem to lit up like golden fire and a feeling of power rushed through her for a moment.
She turned to face the Forgemaster. "It is wonderful, Giblet."   
"Giblet happy Overlady is happy. Only makes the best for Mistress." 
Kelaris nodded. "You do indeed."

#

"Relax your grip a little, it is too tight, your hand will quickly go numb when holding it like that." Moriah instructed. 
Rin did as he was told, taking a slightly looser grip on his gladius. 
"Now try again." Moriah said.
The boy struck out with the sword. The strike was slow, clumsy, and generally poorly executed. But nevertheless it showed promise. He had trained recruits with less potential and turned them into able soldiers before. The former Angelis Knight watched the boy's display with a critical eye as they sparred. They were in the spacious suite that had been given to Moriah in the High Quarters, the level of the Dark Tower reserved for its elite, but beneath that of the Private Quarters themselves. In addition to helping the Overlady herself, he had agreed to train the boy that had followed her and the others on their little adventure through Greenvale.  
"Watch your feet, boy. Sword fights are won and lost on proper footwork. Keep your legs more spread so you can maintain your balance." 
Rin tried to balance it by stepping back and forth when striking. But he was being far too active about it, almost dancing in place when he struck. 
"Don't overcompensate," Moriah ordered, "you will tire yourself out."  
Rin pulled a little back and took several shallow breaths trying to steady himself from the exertion. 
"But..." He paused to get his breath back. "But... Lady Kelaris does that... all the time." Rin said, panting.
"The Overlady is an elf." Moriah said dismissively. "By virtue of that her style of blade fighting will be quite different from those practiced by humans. Since you cannot triumph on speed or nimbleness, you will have to rely on technique. Now try again."
Seemingly fighting the urge to complain as he had done in the beginning, the boy grit his teeth and continued. It was a good sign. But they had not continued long before a mellow voice interrupted them. 
"I need to speak with you, Sir Tanthius." 
Moriah looked up to see Luthyra standing in the entrance to his room, a coldly neutral expression on her face.
"Miss Dusklight, of course, come in." He said, sheathing his sword.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Rin could not help staring at Luthyra, but the second she glanced in his direction he averted his gaze and looked at the floor instead. It wasn't hard to see that the boy was smitten.   
"Alone." Luthyra said.
He nodded and turned to Rin. "Our training will continue tomorrow at the same time. I will know if you have not practiced." He said firmly. The boy nodded silently and hurried from the chamber, making sure that he went in a respectfully wide circle around the elf standing just inside.
"Now, what can I do for you, Miss Dusklight?" Moriah asked politely when he was sure Rin was gone. 
"Tell me why you are here." She said. Her tone was not exactly hostile, but it certainly wasn't friendly either.
"I have already done so. I told our Overlady in the Gromgard ruins, and you were there." 
Luthyra tilted her head slightly. "I would like the truth."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Like the elf, Moriah kept his tone disciplined and conversational. 
"Kelaris might trust you, but I know her, and she can be more than a little naive in matters of trust." Luthyra walked further into the room. She stopped just short of invading the knight's personal space. "But that does not mean that I have to trust your intentions or story." She said.
"I told you the truth." Moriah answered calmly. "I am here because I swore to serve the ruler of evil, the heir of Overlord Tailon and Queen Fay."
"So you would follow someone you have never known before, regardless of their morals, merit, or character, into whatever hell she is sure to end up in the middle of?"
Moriah nodded once. "Of course. I swore to serve Evil, and I intend to give its lady my loyal service."
The scepticism in the elf's cyan eyes was obvious. Either she did not believe this to be the case, or considered it to be an extremely stupid notion.
"Why do you serve her?" Moriah asked.
"I don't serve her, I help her willingly because she is my closest friend. I actually know her."
Moriah nodded courteously. "If you know her and are willing to follow her then you must understand my decision to serve her better than most."
Luthyra did not answer. Though she was clearly not satisfied she inclined her head stiffly to Moriah in acknowledgement of the point.
"Did you just come here to question my honour?" He asked. Had she been anyone else he would not have allowed such a slight to go unchallenged. But he knew that things were different here than in Angelis, and he would afford Luthyra the respect she was owed in her status as the Overlady's friend.
The elf shook her head. "No, Kelaris asked me to inform you that she is ready to receive the Oath of Allegiance and Supremacy... as you requested."
Moriah bristled a little at the casual use of his mistress' given name. "If you would be so kind as to inform our Overlady, I will be right there."
Luthyra looked him in the eyes without blinking for a few seconds. "Of course." She said before turning around and leaving.
Moriah put the distrustful elf out of his mind, the Oath was much more important. The knight immediately went along with the process of donning his full battle regalia. The taking of an oath was a sacred rite and he was adamant to look the part in respect to the ceremony. 
With his armour equipped he evaluated his appearance critically in the mirror-like surface of his shield. He had spent days doing his best to polish his armour and weapon back to their original pristine appearance to be sure he looked worthy of the position as a knight at the Overlady's side. 
After a thorough scrutiny of his resplendent appearance he nodded satisfied to himself. Then lastly he donned his winged helmet and turned to the glowing circular platform on the ground which was glowing in a soft blue light.
With a deep breath he stepped unto it and waited. Barely a second thereafter a brilliant cascade of lightning enveloped him. It surged around him and an uncomfortable sensation of nausea swept through him, making his innards turn and writhe. As a mortal man, magic was an unnatural sensation, one that never seemed to lessen. But it was a necessary evil here, literally.
In a flash of light the eerie feeling eclipsed everything else, and the world disappeared around him, before reforming into the vista of the dark throne room. Levitating down from the black crown he landed on the large disc in the centre of the great hall. A path had been cleared through the rubble to the throne dais so both parties had an unobstructed view of the other. The royal court, or what little amounted to it at least, was gathered on the dais. Gnarl and Lady Dusklight stood on either side, alongside a small minion whose name Moriah did not know.   
The Overlady herself was seated in her crude throne, legs crossed and her chin resting on the back of one hand. It was hardly the most dignified of poses and only served to further illustrate her callow youth for her position. Moriah felt a pang of disappointment. The Overlady was far too frivolous about such a sombre and sacred rite. She was undoubtedly of dark royal blood, but she was a far cry from her predecessors. Then he chastised himself, such thoughts were unworthy of him. He was a knight, a loyal servant, it was not his place to judge the value of his mistress, simply to follow, serve, and if needed, advise, as best as he was able.
The knight stood straight, looking patient to his lady while he waited. The Overlady tilted her head quizzically. Then her advisor leant in and whispered something in her ear. She raised an eyebrow at the grey minion, but gestured for him to proceed. The minion stepped forward on the dais, his movements slow and rheumatic.
"Sir knight, are you prepared to take your Oath of Allegiance and Supremacy? To swear your service to the Overlady?" 
"I am." The knight said firmly. As the minion stepped back, Moriah walked up and knelt before the dais leading up to the throne.
He took a deep breath and then spoke loud and clearly.
"I, Moriah Tanthius of House Tanthius of Angelis, do hereby utterly testify and declare on my conscience, my life, and my honour, that her Highness is the only supreme sovereign of this realm, and all other of her Highness' dominions and territories that she has or will acquire, in any and all matters and causes spiritual, ecclesiastical, or temporal in nature. And that no local or foreign king, queen, person, prelate, state, or potentate has or ought to have any jurisdiction, power, superiority, pre-eminence, or authority in matters spiritual, ecclesiastical, or temporal. And I do thus utterly renounce and forsake all foreign jurisdictions, powers, superiorities, and authorities. And I do promise that from henceforth I shall bear faith and true allegiance to her Highness foremost and above all others, and to my power shall serve, assist, defend and protect her Highness and all of her wishes, desires, decisions, jurisdictions, pre-eminences, privileges, and authorities above all others. So I swear on my life, my honour, and everything that I cherish and hold dear."
There was a long pause where no one spoke.
"Wow." The Overlady said, "They really do think of everything when they makes those oaths." She turned to the minion at her side with a glass orb for an eye. "Did you get all that?" 
The minion nodded eagerly. "Of course, Mistress, every word and pause for breath."
The Overlord rose from her throne and adopted a more formal tone. "I, Overlady Kelaris Sarathe, sincerely and gratefully accept. Rise, and welcome to the darkness, Moriah... my black knight." She finished with a grin that showed her small fangs.

#

Kelaris was still grinning from ear to ear a few minutes later as she followed Gnarl up to the Private Quarters. Having someone bow to her without contempt or sarcasm had made her stomach all aflutter. 
"He isn't going to be the last, you know." Gnarl said. "I hope you won't continue breaking down like a giggling elf maiden at yér'naýar every time."
The Overlady was in too good a mood to let the comment get to her. "Why are we going to the Private Quarters?" She asked instead. "I thought I was supposed to continue the training."
Gnarl shook his head. "Not now. There is something much more important to do, and the sooner you get it done the better. Nubbin and the elves have just finished clearing the rubble up here."
She tilted her head intrigued. "What it is?"  
"You will see." The advisor said. "Try to contain your... dignity, my lady."
Kelaris' smile faltered somewhat. "I will do my best, wouldn't want to spoil the Netherworld's precious reputation."
The grey minion nodded briefly, if he heard the sarcasm he chose to ignore it.