Kip fiddled with a loose pin in a floor trap. His hands worked tediously but the cold of the fifth floor made his job that much harder. He stuck his hands up and coughed some sparks on them to help warm some mobility back into them. Kip was alone, the only minions around were above him. The chattering ice harpies flew above him, often perching on the tall pines to continue their gossiping.
Kip opened the third pouch of his belt and pulled out a coil. He used his trusty screwdriver to open up the mechanism and replaced the rusted coil inside. With that, he was done. He closed the trapdoor and set it again. Kip tossed the last of his fish lunch onto the trap, it opened and the fish dropped, effortlessly pierced on an icicle.
“Perfect!” Kip said as he admired his handiwork. He checked his wristwatch. Done before afternoon tea too. He had a long way to trek back to the Labyrinth but the clockworks needed their engines greased.
“KIIIP!” A shriek rang up above. Kip looked up. Two of the harpies, Ismelda and Emersa, were dropping down to talk to him. Kip was shocked, wondering how the two coolest birds on the fifth floor even knew his name. He had chatted with them, sure. But they stuck to polite conversation and little follow-up. Sometimes though, occasionally, they’d ask him what his name was again.
“Is it true?!” Ismelda flapped her wings down, the snowy ground developing crystals of ice as she continued hovering above.
“How’d you do it?” Emersa asked a follow up before Kip could answer.
“Is it true?” Kip asked, “How’d I do it?” Then he looked down at the floor trap, how it led down to the spikes that would inevitably pierce an invader’s head or shoulder, “It was quite simple, really. You know, the coils are the first things you have to check. If the floor trap doesn’t spring back up then the invader might be saved and..”
“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Ismelda crowed.
“What is he talking about?” Emersa asked.
“Not what we’re talking about.”
“I… how did I do what?” Kip asked.
“You don’t know.” Ismelda said.
“He doesn’t know?”
"How could he, we barely knew and we know most things that go on.”
“But how couldn’t he? Surely… did you not have anything to do with it? Have you checked your system today? ” Emersa asked.
“What?” Kip asked “What do I not know that I apparently had nothing to do with? I don’t see combat, thankfully. I’m level one. Always have been. No need to check my system. Wait, why?”
The two harpies both exchanged glances with each other and looked back at the little kobold who was feeling so nervous being the center of attention that his scales turned an even darker shade of red.
“You must get to the castle.” Ismelda said.
“Top bottom floor!” Emersa confirmed.
“Must I?” Kip asked, “I have many more traps to fix. Were we to face an enemy…”
“Kip,” Ismelda interrupted, “I think you don’t understand. How could he? He does not know. The Dark lord…”
“The Dark lord has asked me to fix all the traps.” Kip interrupted, “Surely he would have told me directly if he needed me.”
“...Is gone.” Emersa finished Ismelda’s sentence.
“Gone like… dead… again? Dead for good? No invader has made it past…”
“He does not understand.” Ismelda said
“How could he?” Emersa asked.
“Shall we?”
“We must!”
As the two harpies flapped their wings harder, little icicle darts shot below them. The surrounding area became even cooler and Kip covered his face with his hands as the frosty winds hit him. They each used one of their talons and picked up the shoulder of Kip, before flying off with him.
The two harpies took him all the way to the top of Castle Inversa. They went in through a chute left open for some of the smaller aerial minions. Kip kept his eyes covered the entire time, knowing that if he opened them, he would likely get sick. He always had a thing against flying. It was every Kobold’s dream to fly but he was very much fine on the ground, thank you.
Much to Kip's relief, the harpies let him go. They entered the throne room, an elegant room near the beginning of the castle. It was large enough that the Dark Lord could address a majority of his inhabitants at one time. A large red rug that started from the two heavy doors ended a few feet from the throne. Before he could scream, Kip landed with a thump on the velvety carpet covering stone tiles. He opened his eyes and was entirely surrounded by castlefolk.
“Wh-what is everybody looking at?” Kip asked.
No one dared say a word to Kip directly, but would incessantly chatter amongst themselves as if he wasn’t even there.
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“Step away! Step away!” Kip could hear the familiar gruff voice of his dear compatriot. Or rather, his boar compatriot. Stormbristle drifted over the heads of the castlefolk. His cloud was darkened by worry. He used his little legs to swim through the air but was blocked by knights with their halberds sticking straight up.
“Out of the WAY!” Stormbristle’s body flashed lightning, causing the knights to heed him. Stormbristle drifted to the ground so he could waddle over to Kip for the rest of the way.
“Are you alright, my boy?” Stormbristle asked.
“Storm,” Kip said, “Why is everyone staring at me? It’s making me dizzy.”
“You are the talk of the Dungeon. Have you checked your system?”
Kip became overstimulated, his eyes glazing over as everyone stared on. “I.. how can I be? Most monsters don’t even know my name. Last time I came to the castle to do some trapwork everyone thought I was an invader. I almost got flogged, Storm.”
“Yes, well… everyone in the Dark Lord’s army will know your name soon.”
“We’ve been spreading the news since we heard it!” Ismelda piped up.
“We’re the reason things spread.” Emersa chimed in.
“Storm,” Kip said, his voice quivering, “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re system, boy. Check it,” Stormbristle instructed Kip, who looked everywhere for the ‘open’ icon in his vision. He had moved it years ago from disuse, “What’s going on is…”
The doors to the throne room were heavy, ornate pieces. They had the Massacre of Mad Mountain painstakingly etched into them by dwarves and when the dwarves’ hands cramped, the Dark Lord had brought in gnomes and had the dwarves executed. They stretched from the floor all the way to the high ceiling. These heavy doors were meant for a team of guards to open with a pulley system. But when Davorin walked in, he pushed them with one hand each and they slammed open. Davorin, the Floor Lord of Castle Inversa, quaffed his white hair behind his blue ears as he stormed in.
“Out of my WAY!” Davorin commanded. He charged down the velvet walkway and the monsters and critters that had been surrounding Kip suddenly opened up, shuffling between each other to try to provide a direct path to Kip. There was, however, not enough time for one of the chess pieces that guarded the courtyard to get out of the way. A small rook had tripped and fallen in front of Davorin’s path.
“Too slow!” Davorin kicked the rook, launching her up into the high ceiling and slamming against the paned glass of one of the Floor Lords.
“You’re Kit?” Davorin demanded, “Speak you little scaly rat. Are you he?”
“I…” Kip stuttered as Davoring scooped his finger through the collar of Kip’s hood and lifted him up.
“Are. You. He?”
Kip gurgled as he tried to catch his breath, then he eked out, “I’ve met you four times.”
“So you’re he or aren’t you?!” Davorin shook Kip in the air. Kip let out a weak sound Davorin tossed him.
“Yes I’m he! I’m Kip. Nice to see you again,” Kip murmured, “What is going on?!”
“Precisely what I’d like to ask you. When my people told me the news I almost bit their heads off. Is what everyone is telling me true?”
“I DON'T KNOW!” Kip exclaimed, “I have not the slightest, foggiest, iota of an infinitesimal idea of what is going on! Why is everybody staring at me?!”
“They are looking at their new leader.” A powerful voice cut through the crowd. Everyone turned and saw another Floor Lord, Jymba, the powerful dragon in his human form. He was wearing his regal robes and walked through the crowd with the same reverence as Davorin, minus the paralyzing fear.
“Check your system, Kip,” Jymba said.
“My system?” Kip asked, “I’m level one. As always.”
Jymba continued, “This morning we woke up to find the Dark Lord missing. In his throne when he normally is was a note.” Jymba walked past both of them, further down the red carpet, toward the throne.
Kip looked around for the exact space where he left the button that opened up his system. He turned and noticed the ‘Open’ icon near his tail. He pressed it. The scroll that contained all his stats read the same. Level 1. Miniscule strength. Exceptional intelligence. Everything looked the same except…
Kip went pale.
Davorin hissed and turned his head when he saw Jymba, “You need not make it your business.”
“It is all of our business,” Jymba said, “We are all staring at our new lord.”
Under ‘Role:’ his position had been changed. No longer did it read “Head Of Traps” Instead, it was replaced:
Role: Dark Lord
Davorin let out a rueful laugh, “Do not make me laugh! He is no more our leader than a crow is a bird.”
“A crow is a bird,” Jymba said, “I have told you this many times.”
“It is a BAT!” Davorin yelled, “I am a vampire and my specialty is knowing when things are bats or when they are not.”
Jymba handed Kip an envelope, now opened. The first thing that Kip noticed was the Dark Lord’s seal. An upside down castle exactly like the one they were in. He opened it. It was not overly verbose. It was quick and to the point, what the note lacked in information, it made up for in bluntness.
“Out for a while. Kip’s in charge while I’m gone.”
Kip kept staring at it for far too long, wondering when someone would tap him on his shoulder and let him know that the Dark Lord was hiding behind some plant. Kip looked around again. Somehow, not knowing why everyone was looking at him felt a lot better than knowing.
“It is the Dark Lord’s decree,” Jymba’s voice boomed.
“Imbecilic.” Davorin said.
“If you question the Dark Lord, then so be it. But there is no question what the next step is. It is up to you, little one.”
Kip held onto the letter so tightly, he was likely to rip it. Stormbristle tried to bring his attention to the matter at hand, “What say you, Kip?” Stormbristle asked, “What say you as your first decree?”
“This is crazy,” Kip said, “I… I…. I am not worth… I am not a dark lord, it is as Davorin says.”
“Ah, some sense. And from the biggest little rat I’ve ever seen. It shall be me who takes the throne. The prince of darkness. The heir apparent.”
Kip thought for a moment. He wasn’t fit to be Dark Lord, but his eyes went to the rook, who was holding onto some tapestry high in the castle. He was hanging on desperately while a few flying books tried to help him down. Davorin. Davorin would be the next in line if Kip seceded.
“Not so apparent.” Kip mumbled under his breath.
Davorin turned to look at Kip. Kip had a fire in his eyes as he met the floor lord's bloodshot gaze.
“What did you say?”
“Your hearing is heightened, no?” Kip asked, shaking, “I think you heard me. Not so heir apparent.”
Davorin looked around. There were a few terrified ‘ooohs.’
“The Dark lord chose me. Who are you to question him?” Kip asked.
“What are you doing, boy?” Stormbristle asked.
“I… can’t let him lead,” Kip whispered, “You know how he treats the minions. It… can’t be him.”
Davorin’s maliced frown popped suddenly into a smile. He gave his hands a little clap, “Wundabar! I was worried you’d choose the easy way.”
Kip was caught off guard. Was this just a test that he’d passed?
“Since you are acting as the current Dark Lord, I invoke the The Succession Articles on the Dark Charter. Article 4. I hereby challenge you to claim the throne. I get to decide the battle. Let’s say… one on one? To the death. One week from today. Afternoon, mind you, I have tea with my beloved in the morning. Ta-ta!”
And Davorin left Kip with the startling realization that Kip had just signed his own death warrant.