Day off in the Dark Tower - Part 1

Title: Day off in the Dark Tower – Part 1
Universe: Overlord (Taking place between the death of the old Overlord and the journey into the Infernal Abyss)    
Author: Akernis

Overlord Drakainion sat up slowly. He removed the silken fabric that had covered him while he slept with surprising gentleness for someone who were more used to wielding weapons of war than soft cloth. Rays of subdued light fell into the bedchamber room through the stained glass windows but did little more than cast deeper shadows upon him, as if it could not properly illuminate him.
Very few individuals ever saw the Overlord without his armour and the sight would have been a bewildering one for many, if no less intimidating. Even unarmoured he was an imposing figure. Towering considerably over mere mortals with herculean muscles that could bend steel and effortlessly crush lesser warriors, his formidable stature bore more resemblance to idolising statues of ancient gods than most breathing men, but were far more dignified than hulking brute that many would assume.  
There were more disturbing aspects that drew the eye. His skin seemed somehow both pale and dark at the same time, like bright marble languishing in perpetually deep shadow. All over his body faint sigils seemed to form swirling, ever-shifting patterns in a colour that was not easily identifiable. Shoulder-length onyx black hair fell down behind a face that, while regally handsome, was difficult to focus on without feeling the need to avert one’s eyes. His own eyes though where easily the most striking and intimidating feature; burning like embers in surrounding darkness they glowed with a baleful orange.      
As he made to rise he felt the caress of a soft hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he gazed down at the exquisite young woman lying at his side. She peered up at him through half-closed eyes and gave him a seductive smile that would (and had) send countless men to fulfill her every desire.
“Already up, darling?” Velvet purred in a silky voice, glancing at the dawn light pouring in through the stain glass windows.
“Yes, there is much to do.” His voice was deeply sonorous and despite him talking casually it resonated with an almost demonic reverberation.
His mistress sighed exaggeratedly before playfully running her hand across his shoulders and torso in a way that sent shivers down his spine.
“Can’t the evil domain run itself for just one day without you having to take the armies rampaging across the lands?” she asked in a voice that suggested she knew the answer already.
“I thought you liked the pillaging and plundering I do out there. And the gilded treasure that follows.” He responded dryly.
She hesitated a moment. “Of course I do, but you are so rarely home, and Gnarl hardly makes for the most pleasant of company. There is also still much to do at the tower after the events of... your predecessor.” She said and he saw that for a fleeting moment her sultry demeanour faltered to let the worry beneath it shine through. Then it was gone again just as quickly.
Drakainion entertained the idea of taking a day off to tend to the restoration of the tower and whatever else needed a direct hand here; though he imagined that Gnarl would be quick to remind him that there were evil deeds that needed doing.
“We will see” he answered to Velvet’s delighted surprise.
Rising from the large bed, he went over to one of the side chambers where a grand stone basin was to be found. Except for the bath the room was comparatively small and intimate. Carvings depicting scenes from the exploits of the various former dark lords decorated the walls and the ceiling was carved out to resemble a map of the currently known world. At the far end of the basin was a sculpture of a lovely, slender mermaid whose tailed body curled elegantly around the end.
At a gesture water started running down the mermaid’s cheeks as if she was crying, first in a slow tickle and then in a steady stream. Hot steam started rising from the deliberate cracks in the floor and soon the basin was filled to the brim with warm water. Lowering himself into the cleansing pool, he felt whatever tension remaining in his body drain away. Gnarl had always said that the tears of virgins were soothing and cleansing but to be honest he suspected that this was nothing more than just fresh water from the mountains heated by the forge.
Relaxing, he stared up into the map above his head. His gaze first sought out the Dark Tower before steadily travelling across the domains he had brought under the black throne since his ascension to Overlord: the Mellow Hills, Evernight Forest, and Heaven's Peak. The Golden Mountains and the Ruborian Desert had both been explored and felt the might of his horde, though neither had yet surrendered their allegiance to the black banner. Those two regions would feel conquest soon enough though.
Below each of these lands also lay an Abyss, each a subterranean hell realm of nightmarish magic. With the exception the one no doubt resting beneath the Ruborian Desert each of these infernal realms had also been brought under his sway, practically doubling the reach and extend of his dark dominance.
He let his eyes wander to the regions that insofar lay beyond the far edge of his influence. Lands even more prosperous than the ones he already knew; the hardy tundra of Nordberg, the verdant elven jungles of Everlight, the “glorious” cultures of the Heartlands and of course the ancient, legendary Netherworld, birthplace of the minions and heart of evil. These were realms he longed to explore as well to make his presence felt and, of course, eventually claim for evil.          
But reminding himself to be patient, he pushed such thoughts from his mind to concentrate on more immediate matters. Drying himself, he returned to his bedchamber to get dressed. He pulled on a suit of dragon-skin to wear beneath his armour before turning to locate his signature wargear.
The magical armour that more or less defined his image lay scattered randomly in the corner of the room with little of the reverence that such masterpieces of arcane metal deserved and he scowled himself for his inattentiveness before carefully collecting each piece and placing them deferentially besides each other on the cabinet built for housing it.
Donning his warplate was an intricate affair requiring the aid of slaves or minions to easily achieve, but he did not feel like all the ceremony today. He slowly and carefully put on each of the near-indestructible arcanium parts; greaves, vambraces, pauldrons, breastplate, boots and gauntlets etc. As gradually the armour was equipped he felt a reverberation of power echo through his body, growing more potent with each added piece. A low, mysteriously melodious sound filled his mind as if the armour itself sang in dark delight at being donned. He could feel the magical nature of the suit lending its power to his, as if the infused life force of the minions that had willingly given their life for its creation longed to serve their master yet again.
Throughout the process Velvet lay and watched her master, cunning eyes filled with appreciation and sensual lips cooing quietly. She had yet to get dressed; he assumed that she would call some of the servants to attend to her outfit and bath when he had left.
As he put on the last gauntlet he clenched his hand into a fist and the large amber jewel attached to his forearm broke out into a radiant brilliance before subduing to a low but constant glow, signalling that the phenomenal arcanium amour was whole once more. Then the transformation came. Soft infernal luminance began to light the armour internally and the brightly gleaming silver metal began to darken until it had attained an almost glossy black surface, like the carapace of a beetle. Simultaneously several dark bone-like spikes began to grow from the shoulders until they had reached into two tall curved spines surrounded by several lesser spikes. Similar bone-spikes grew from multiple place on the armour but they were easily most intimidating on the shoulders.
“You look magnificent, Sire.” Velvet said, her voice softer than usual and her eyes filled with genuine admiration. He had noticed that since the battle for the dark throne with Alcazar in Fengor’s body she had been different, no less pernicious but deeper, more real and personal.It was almost as if some lingering trace of her former life and loyalties had finally fallen away.
Turning back to her, he bent forward and took hold of her slender face with a hand beneath her chin, a lethally strong gauntleted hand with razor sharp arcanium claws tenderly cupping his mistress’s face without leaving as much as a mark. Velvet’s eyes went momentarily wide as he kissed her on the lips before they closed and she mewled softly in pleasure.
Drakainion pulled back before turning away and picked up the last piece of his armour. As he donned his helmet his glowing eyes became smouldering orange again rather than the clear, bright gold they had just been. The Harvesting Helmet was a magically arcane device created from one of the ancient mold artefacts that he and his minions had recovered in their travels. It was, according to Gnarl, one of the most hallowed dark artifacts intricately connected to magic and granting the wearer greater affinity for the flow of magical life itself. Rumours even suggested that the bearer could hear the voice of magic itself talking to him or her.
While he was not entirely sure of how much of this was truth or tale he had noticed that at times he had been able to catch echoes of events near the Tower Heart as if more directly connected to it and sometimes he could swear he had heard other voices whispering. Voices that did not belong to mere mortals; sometimes a hauntingly beautiful feminine one, and at others a clearly distinct smouldering voice he somehow always seemed to forget afterwards.  
His helmet donned, he regarded the rising sun through the stained glass he before he turned to leave. His hand on the door, he heard a loud crash on the other side. Puzzled, he pushed the door open to find three minions outside, two of them rising after having been kicked to the floor.
The two smaller where easily recognisable as newborns and he was unaware of their names; the larger one was unmistakable however. Clad in hardened steel pieces of armour taken from several fallen foes and wielding a pair of Ruborian sabres the brown horde leader was also easily the most ferocious minion in any of the hordes and, with the possible exception of Giblet, also by far the largest.        
“No peeking at Master’s quarters.” The large brown minion growled, baring his sharp teeth threateningly.
“No peeking, only listening.” One of the newborns giggled in what he no-doubt thought was a suitably confident tone. His friend seemed to be a little wiser, or had just had a run-in with the brown leader before, and looked uncertainly at the larger minion. “Bark, he’ll rip you ta pieces.”  
And indeed, the large brown seemed on the edge of giving the two smaller ones a severe lesson when both of the newborns suddenly saw who had arrived.
“Master!” They both gasped in what looked like an expression between shame and fear.
“To Hive!” The brown leader commanded and both minions instantly bolted like rabbits.
He then turning to Drakainion, his bat-like ears laid back in deference and the tightly controlled aggression in his posture seeped away. “Master.” The horde leader said respectfully.
“Sin.” Drakainion returned, his head tilting forward slightly in acknowledgment of the strongest minion in his horde.    
“Gnarl wants to speak in throne room when Master ready.” Sin said. It did not seem like his brown horde leader to run errands or deliver messages personally. Usually one of the younger and more eager minions with a greater thirst for proving themselves would be sent. He assumed that something else was up.
“Something on your mind, Sin?” Drakainion asked as he walked towards the stairs with the large minion falling into step beside him.
“Has a request, Master, hordes weak after battle with Khan giant and former master but dungeon arena still being rebuilt. Wanted to train young ones outside tower.” The minion said.
“I did not plan on going outside today.” He said, there was no hint of apology or explanation in his tone of voice, he respected his minions but an Overlord’s decisions were law.
The brown minion took the news without even a hint of disappointment; he served the Overlord’s every command. “Could train newborns without Master.” He said thoughtfully. “Master gets day inside tower and stronger horde.”
The leaders did not often take their hordes beyond the tower without their master, but Sin’s devotion and desire to rebuild the horde was apparently stronger than this natural reluctance to leaving the Tower unaccompanied by the Overlord.
“What about the other hordes?” He asked.
“Blues still strong, few horde members dead. Reds not as strong and greens even weaker than browns.” Sin answered. “Molten and Sai both eager for killing and stronger hordes.”
He thought about it. He was not much inclined to let his strongest minions off on their own without him or a strong horde at their back but if his horde leaders were all willing he assumed he could allow them to strengthen their new members.
“Gather your fellow leaders, I will make a decision once I have spoken with Gnarl.”
“As Master wishes.” Sin said before moving ahead to the hives.
Watching his minion speed away he moved on to descend the stairs to the throne room.

As he neared he heard the various voices of those within. Most obvious amongst these where Gnarl’s insistent orders to the minions to stop whatever they were doing and do whatever they were not and. Beyond that there were the clattering, sizzling, rasping, and soothing voices of the different clans vying for attention amongst the cacophony of their brethren. Hushed below these were the quieter feminine tones of the servants talking and passing on instructions in lowered voices as they went about their duties.    
As he rounded the last circular turn down towards the throne room a figure came hurrying up the stairs. It was a girl hardly more than a few years out of her puberty. She was small and frail of stature with shoulder length brown hair and wearing the usual insubstantial “dress-code” that Gnarl had proclaimed tradition demanded as mandatory for all female servants in the Overlord’s service. She was carrying a delicate vase of water which was probably needed upstairs. She barely had time to notice her master’s presence, let alone slow down to avoid a collision, and crashed hard into him.
He barely even felt the impact but the girl was thrown forcefully back down the few steps of the wide stair and landed hard on the dark stone floor. She dropped the vase in the process which shattered with a shrill crash of expensive glass. Judging from the scent that was now spilled across the floor she had been carrying a perfume for Velvet.  
The shattering of the glass had frozen everyone in the room and complete silence now reigned. Dozens of curious minions regarded the scene with anticipating yellow glowing eyes while the servants stood paralysed in horror. The grey-skinned minion advisor looked on with his usual calm demeanour.
Drakainion lowered his burning gaze to the girl at the floor who was utterly frozen in terror. Her eyes were wide with shock of what had just happened and fear of what was to follow. A steady stream of bright arterial crimson flowed down her shoulder from a painful-looking laceration which showed that she had struck one of the spikes of his armour and had her shoulder partially impaled, though her fear seemed to block out the pain.
The air was laden with tension and people held their breath as is afraid to usher in something far worse. The spell was broken as one of the other women uncertainly hurried over to the girl. The woman, while still youthful, was older and more mature than her sister-in-service. Drakainion recognised her: Aurora, one of Velvet’s maids, from Angelis if he was not mistaken.
“Please, my Lord, it was an accident, she was just trying to perform her task for our lady.“ She pleaded. While her expression was etched with fear simply coming to the aid of her fellow had required considerable courage. Drakainion said nothing, his glowing eyes shone menacingly down at the two servants before him. Then he turned his head slightly towards the minions, some of which looked on with intrigued faces while others gazed hungrily at the scene.
“Sleet.” Drakainion’s deep voice resonated. “Do what you were born to.”
The younger servant closed her eyes in fear but her friend squeezed her hand reassuringly. One of the smaller but experienced minions came running forward to obey his master. He lay his webbed blue hands on the wound in the girl’s shoulder and let his healing magic flow through it. Near instantly the wound healed to not even leave a scar and the girl opened her eyes in a combination of confusion and relief.
“Your Mistress requires your presence.” Drakainion said in a tone that conveyed the unspoken warning not to let this incident repeat itself. The two servants hastily rose and hurried up the stairs, very careful to not as much as brush their master’s armour in the process. The tension in the room seemed to bleed out after that. The minions continued their usual activities and the servants returning to their duties, some of them hurrying over to clean the mess before their master decided to change his mind or blame anyone not keeping up to standards.
The Overlord sat down on the menacingly bladed, black throne. He took a few moments to take in the layout of the throne room he had so nearly lost to his predecessor’s return. The chamber was constructed from dark stone, marble and obsidian. A bladed jungle of elegant metallic curves and arches formed a skeletal spider web spreading from two-thirds up the walls and across the ceiling. Tall, demonic statues flanked the room at each side of the passages leading to the individual sections of the tower. A large balcony beyond a shimmering pool showed a magnificent vista of the mountains surrounding his personal realm and the lands beyond them.
There was an unusually large number of minions present today. On the ground both browns and blues scurried around each other while the walls and the network of arches in the ceilings was shared between the reds and greens. He suspected this was because the dungeon arena was still in ruins so there were practically no battles to keep them occupied with training.
Though he knew that the hordes had been devastated in the two vicious battles that had taken place a few days ago he was also aware that the quantity of the horde had suffered more than its quality. Though possibly hundreds of loyal minions had fallen he knew that most of the elite had survived. The minions that he had led into war and triumphed over impossible odds with still stood by his side alive and stronger than ever.
Glancing around he was able to locate a few of those loyal and fierce warriors. Most obvious where the horde leaders, Sin had apparently already summoned them all here. The large, twin-sabre wielding brown minion stood close near the throne like a bodyguard as was his right due to his position as the highest ranking minion in all the hives. Only Gnarl himself ranked higher but then again he did not really belong to either hive.
Storm was standing by the mist pool that showed the various realms connected by the Tower Gates; whatever the master healer saw within those hazy magical waters where for his eyes only.
Drakainion had to crane back his neck to look at Molten; the powerful red minion had taken up residence in the network of gothic spines directly above the throne as if guarding his master from unknown assailants, his clawed silvery gauntlets glowing with the fiery amber light radiating from the lava-like lines across his body.
As an unparalleled master of stealth Sai was visible as nothing but a pair of hazy yellow eye glows within the darkest shadows of the alcoves above, however he made sure to announce his presence whenever one of the servants glanced his way by allowing the light from braziers to catch and reflect from his durium wrist blades.      
Smiling behind his helmet at the thought of these small loyal monsters he turned his attention back to the matter at hand as Gnarl walked up to the dais upon which the throne stood.
“Ah, good to see you up and about, Sire.” The grey-skinned minion chuckled to himself in what Drakainion assumed was some private joke. “An awfully bright time like this is really in need of some proper evil deeds to darken the day. Now I have been thinking-.”
He stopped as the Overlord held up a hand to cut him off. 
“I have decided to stay home in the Tower today, Gnarl, to see to the more immediate needs here.”
His advisor stopped a few moments to ponder this, but always one to see an opportunity in every situation soon smiled and looked back up at his master.
“That might actually be a good idea Lord; though the world could always use a good smiting there are a few matters that might very well benefit from your wisely guiding hand here.”
“Such as?” He asked the old minion patiently.
“Well, in addition to the matter of rebuilding the strength of the minion hordes and the Tower’s reconstruction there are several people requesting an audience and then, of course, there is the “special device” you ordered created that Giblet is nearly finished with.”
“Very well.” He said. “lets deal with the horde first.”
He called the horde leaders to him and they assembled swiftly. Only Storm took a little longer to arrive, but like most blues his mind sometimes tended to wander.
“As you know, Sire.” Gnarl said. “Sin has requested to take the hordes outside the tower to train and equip the newborns. Though “newborns” might hardly be the most appropriate term any longer as most of them fought against your predecessor’s own in the minion civil war throughout the tower.”
Drakainion rested his chin on a gauntleted hand, his eyes a calculating yellow. “Then the question is of where to arm and train them. Ruboria is out of the question, I am not sending my hordes into the maws of sandworms.”
“Agreed, Sire.” Gnarl replied. “I would suggest equipping them in Spree or Heaven’s Peak and having them fight haflings, easier pickings for the younger ones, at least to start with.”
The Overlord nodded. “Sin, you have overall command. You, Molten, and Sai will take your newer minions to Heaven’s Peak and collect the weapon and armour tributes at Angelis Keep and then go to Castle Spree from where you can train them against haflings and beetles as you see fit.”
He thought for a moment before giving some last minute orders. “Storm, you stay behind but send some of your more experienced blues with them, I want Soaker in command of that group. Molten, if there are problems send back Pyre with news.”
His orders given the minions moved to carry them out.
“That should keep them busy and with a bit of luck the horde will be strong again in no time.” Gnarl said.
Drakainion smiled; even though the expression was hidden the soft yellow glow of his eyes conveyed his satisfaction. Few things made an Overlord’s day like the prospect of a strong horde at his command.
“How is the Tower coming along, Gnarl?” He asked his advisor, who was sure to be well atop of the matter.
“Though most of the dungeon has been repaired the arena is, as you know, still in ruins. The minion fighting that went on in there was the worst in the tower except for the catacombs. Oh, and speaking of those, Rasp and Fade’s groups are nearly finished with clearing those spaces of beetles and it will not be long before that area can be put to more productive uses. What do you desire for the building projects down there, Sire?”
“Extend the minions burrows.” He answered after a moment’s thought. “We could use more space for them and the larger horde that will be required when setting out again.”
Gnarl nodded approvingly. “It will be almost like the Nether Barracks of old.” he said almost to himself.
Drakainion was not entirely sure what the old minion was referring to but he assumed it had something to do with the ancient Netherworld.
The Netherworld. It was strange but his mind had been circling more and more about the place as of late. He was still a long way from even trying to locate the legendary realm but something there called to him. That and the last of the hellish realms that Gnarl has called the Infernal Abyss had been in his dreams frequently these last few weeks, particularly after he had defeated Alcazar. He wondered what this portended but did not dwell upon it now.
“You mentioned audiences?” He asked his advisor instead.
“Ah yes, Lord, townsfolk and other riff-raff of various standings seeking either favour or mercy.” Gnarl rubbed his hands together greedily. “Remember, Lord; though it might often feel far more satisfying to simply get rid of the pests, gratitude comes with its own rewards.”
Drakainion nodded slowly, living and loyal subjects, whether through gratitude or fear - or preferably both - were more useful than dead ones. But that said, people should not forget why his title was that of Evil Overlord, his favour would not come cheap or to those who did not serve loyally.  
“What have you done to prepare?” He asked Gnarl.
“Nothing as of yet, Sire, they will wait until their Overlord calls upon them.” His voice indicated that he clearly enjoyed this part of his job.
“When Sin has taken the young minions out in the fields I will send an “appropriate delegate” to have them escorted here.” Gnarl continued.
Drakainion nodded his consent. “Have them brought to Castle Spree from the various Gate throughout our lands to wait their turn; they can have a little taste of what the Dark Tower houses by watching our minions train.”
Along with Angelis Keep and the Mother Goddess Temple of Evernight Castle, Spree was one of the three bastions Drakainion had taken as outposts for his forces to have a firmer grip on the lands that had claimed. Each of these “Black Citadels” as Gnarl liked to call them had more prominent Tower Gates with a stronger connection to the Tower. Each was housing several dozen minions at any time, sometimes as much a hundred of his small but relentless warriors were stationed there if there was a problem to keep in check or if a show of force was required to remind the people who was in charge. These outposts where also where the people of the Mellow Hills, Heaven’s Peak and the now returned elves of Evernight left their tributes to the Tower in the form of wargear, food, treasure, creatures for life force gathering or other appropriate wares acquired through manufacture or trade.  
“Of course, Master” Gnarl said with glee.
“Inform me when they are ready to arrive.” Drakainion said while rising from his bladed throne.
As the hunched grey minion bowed his assent the Overlord left the throne room for the Forge.

He arrived to find the forge was hot and put to good use, just as he had expected. Giblet stood hard at work at the smelters, his heavy hammer blows sent loud and rhythmic clanks of metal against metal resounding through the chamber. Drakainion knew what the strapping minion was working on as he had been doing so near constantly day and night ever since he had been given the task.
Though the sound of his footsteps where no louder than Giblets hammer blows there was a certain distinction to their sounds that Giblet recognised even temporarily half-deaf with the sound of forging. He put his hammer down and turned to greet his master enthusiastically.
“Welcome to the Forge, Master” He said “Giblet working as fast as can, anything Master needs?”
“My sword, Giblet.” Drakainion’s voice resounded.
“Course, Master, sword again ready and strong, just like Master wished.” Giblet went into the armoury to retrieve a vast, sinister black sword of slim and slightly curving design that pulsed with an internal blood red luminance. Though the blade was easily thrice the minion’s height and would have been unwieldy in the hands of most mortal warriors it seemed no larger than a sleek and graceful longsword in the Overlord’s hand.
Lifestealer, another of the arcane artefacts forged from one of the ancient doom moulds they had found. He could feel the power within the weapon all but thirsting for life and battle as he took it in hand and it practically sang with dark delight as he swung it in vicious circles about him to remember its balance and feel.
Though it had remained unbroken the blade had dulled and weakened after the battle against Alcazar where it had destroyed his staff in a cataclysmic collision between the two arcane weapons. Giblet had devotedly worked on the deadly weapon with life-force and rare fairy gems until it had emerged as powerful as ever. 
Drakainion placed the blade at his back, he doubted that the weapon would see action today but its presence felt reassuring, the most priced of his physical possessions except for the amber gem at his forearm.
“Continue your work on the other project, Giblet, and bring it to me when ready.” He said.
“Yes, Master” the hulking minion said before he excitedly returned to the forge to work. "You need not worry long, is almost ready!" 

Leaving the dungeon, the Overlord headed back upstairs. As he entered he saw Sin leading his chosen minions through the magical gate that was the pool. Gnarl was talking with Fade, one of the high ranking greens who was responsible for clearing the catacombs, also present were Hoarse and handful of reds whose help had been enlisted to in dealing with a particularly persistent beetle swarm.
All present, minions and servants alike, bowed as he passed and continued upstairs. On his way to the Tower Chamber he stopped at the Treasury. While an Overlord could certainly just take whatever he wanted there were quite a few uses for gold nonetheless; whether through trading with lands yet to far-flung to plunder or because the subtler approach was sometimes preferred. Some subjects responded better to the glittering of gold than threats, though both were often employed. Sometimes it was simply more expedient to pay for loyal services than take them by force.
Inside he was greeted with a sea of wealth. From heaps of coins to stacks of jewels the size of minion fists and all kinds of objects made from precious metals. Less obvious but no less valuable items were also stored here, from near priceless works of art to forgotten maps showing hidden or otherwise unknown paths and routes through otherwise impassable terrain. There were also various treaties and reminders of oaths of allegiance, some sworn in current times to him by peoples who considered such things honour-binding, others were ancient works made by mercenary clans, craftsmen or traders. Written agreements were not his preferred method of keeping loyalty but as Gnarl had said; there where many ways to enforce obedience, and it was always a good idea to keep one’s options open.  
The trip to Ruboria had been a rich harvest to the treasury, much to Gnarl’s and Velvet’s delight. Many of Jewel’s ill-gotten gains now belonged to him, though no doubt untold more waited in the dunes of the harsh deserts. The thought of the thieving hero he had crossed paths with made him smile almost involuntarily. He looked forward to see if his little cunning plan turned out the way he hoped it would.
He continued into the room opposite the treasury, known informally simply as the “Tower Chamber” though often called the War Room by the minions as that was where the conquest was planned. The comparatively small chamber contained countless books on various subjects of dark lore as well as a number of powerful artifacts collected throughout his travels. In the centre of the room was a large, raised board-like platform on which was a scale model of the Dark Tower itself that could to show an extraordinary map of the world connected to the black gate network that would change in tune with the changes to the world or the cities, forests or realms within it. The model had been originally built by Rose and later enhanced and enchanted by Velvet with the help of Gnarl.  
Placing a hand on the board it rippled in response to his touch and zoomed in on the village of Spree and its surrounding areas. It seemed that the village was recovering well from Khan's attack. Drakainion stood and studied the display a while, zooming in on the various realms near the tower gates to see if he could he could gleam something of interest from the map. He was interrupted when he heard a slightly wet but respectfully formal voice behind him.
“Master, guests waiting to arrive”
Drakainion turned to regard the blue minion standing behind him. It was one of Storm’s newer but skilled horde members, Drizzle, if he remembered correctly. He nodded.
“Tell Gnarl I am coming.” He said and the minion turned tail to deliver the news immediately, not even changing course to run out through the door opening but ghosting right through the wall to get more quickly there. Drakainion followed at a slower pace.

When he arrived at the throne room it seemed considerably changed. Despite it still being midday the sky outside had turned a baleful purple-black through the Tower’s own innate magic in response to his desire. The skull-bowl braziers and the flames around the feet and from the eyes and mouths of the demonic statures glowed stronger but somehow less bright, bathing the room in an infernal red luminance and casting long and deep shadows everywhere. Only a few of the servants were still here, each of the girls standing silent and subservient back in the shadows in case they were needed for a task.
None of the newborns were nearby and by far most of the minions present were the stronger and deadlier members of his horde. Drakainion took his place on the black throne.
“How many come?” He asked his advisor.
Though his keen eyes spotted him easily the grey-skinned minion would appear practically invisible to most in his position amidst the deep shadows except for the glow stone hanging down from the stick rising above his head.
“A couple dozen or so has requested to be heard, my lord.” Gnarl said.
“Did they all just happen to request this today?” Drakainion asked in a low voice.
“I might have... scheduled the appointments for this moment seeing as you took the day off from the more direct handling of these matters.” the minion replied carefully.
Though his eyes darkened in colour he said nothing in response. Instead he gestured towards the magical pool and let his magic flow; then he leaned back and waited.