A Drow sat in an office.

It was not his office; he had no need for offices. Truth be told, he despised all who were forced to use an office. Nothing more than concrete and glass cages to those who needed a master. And they all had masters, each one of them. It may not have always been someone like him, but there was always something else that held sway over those people. Vices, family, the sense of belonging, it didn’t matter. If one worked in an office, one could be controlled.

The Drow leaned back and slammed his feet onto the desk.

It wasn’t the keenest observation he’d made in his life, but that was fine. With where he was, he didn’t need keen discoveries, there were others that made those for him.

Still, regardless of how ridiculous it was, he believed it to be true. Especially with his newest little office worker.

He smiled and leaned his head back into the plush leather chair.

Newest wasn’t the right word. The reactions, the rush of feelings, it all still had that brand new sense to it, but that wasn’t correct. He’d held that power over his little paper pusher for three years now, and he’d achieved much with that time. All at the expense of that poor soul that owned the office, of course. But what did that matter? Results were results, and if his little bureaucrat went bald over it, or worse, keeled over into an early grave, he’d find another.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

That would require a great deal of work though. Simple enough to cage another bird, but quite the tedious task. He had something good going on, and he didn’t want to cut ties just yet.

He would, of course. Eventually. When they outlived their usefulness. Perhaps he’d pass the judgement himself when the time came. He wasn’t sure just yet.

A knock sounded on the tall wooden doors, before they opened slightly.

A guard, decked in full plate, poked his head through the crack, nodding once at the Drow.

“Apologizes sir,” the guard said. “but the report came in.”

The Drow raised his brows; he dropped his boots from the desk and sat up straight.

“Oh?” He said, lips slowly curving into a smile. “Do tell. Is it the report we’ve been waiting with bated breath for?”

“Indeed, it is sir. Our man at the Southern Gate checkpoint sent it in. Evidently, their caravan had been ransacked but everyone important made it out alive.”

“Hmm.” The Drow rubbed his chin, smile spread across his face. “Ransacked, you say? Intriguing, intriguing. Well, I’ve nothing of import later today…perhaps I’ll stop by.”

The guard nodded. “Would you like the full report sir?”

The Drow stood up from the chair, and swept a large, purple hat on top his bald head.

“No, no,” he said. “I’ll see it all myself anyhow.”