Kip rubbed his hand nervously as he waited for people to trickle in. He had holed himself in a meeting room in Castle Inversa, where he sat at a round ovular wooden table. Kip thought it would be nice to have a little something for the people that showed to nosh on, so he had the castle’s baker make some doughnuts and coffee. They had been put out on the tray but as some of the people started pouring in, they would absently look at the coffee and the doughnuts and walk to their seats. Kip greeted them all. He had told everyone the meeting would start at the ninth hour in the morning but it was ten minutes past the ninth hour and still, no Floor Lords had joined him. Only henchmen. Kip kept staring at the door, hoping for one in particular to wander in.

“Everybody settle in and find a chair, we’re waiting on the Floor Lords to arrive.”

A salamander, taller than Kip, and red with yellow spots grabbed some coffee. He was lightly coated in a fire and sat on the cured wooden chair before saying, “My Floor Lord’s not coming.” The heat emanating from his backside caused the chair to smoke, so he opted to stand.

“He’s not?” Kip asked.

The salamander shook his head as he drank the coffee from a metal chalice, “Sent me in his stead.”

“Hello, very nice to meet you. And your name is…?”

The salamander stuck one of his hands out, but Kip was afraid to touch it, “I’m Sal Mander. Fifth floor. Love the coffee by the way. Nice and hot.”

“My coffee's a little cold,” A voice from the other side of the table said. Kip and Sal both turned to see a yeti, sitting in a chair that was creaking under her weight as she held the chalice’s handle between her two fingers, “Can we trade?”

“Sorry,” Kip interrupted, “Who is here as a proxy for their Floor Lord?”

Everybody but one raised their hand. None of the Floor Lords decided to come to the meeting. Not even Jymba, the dragon that was on his side when Kip first became Dark Lord. Pfft, Thought Kip, ‘Dark Lord’ and you can’t even get your henchmen to show up to your meetings. What kind of ‘Dark Lord’ are you really?

“I see,” Kip said, disappointed, “I had something very important to tell Davorin and I needed someone to act as witness. If everyone here is just a proxy, I suppose we might as well disband the meeting. Thank you all for coming.”

“I am not here in anybody’s stead but for that of the Duerger people!” Kip looked up to see a dwarf, pale blue with a shiny white beard and eyebrows and white eyes to match. He had his mining hat in his hands so his blue bald spot absorbed some of the light in the room.

“Hello there. May I ask for your name and why you’re here?” Kip asked.

“Hello to you. I am Baraz Bloodchin. I represent the Duergar of this community. We maintain the tunnels of the Underdark.” The Duergar approached and showed Kip an incomprehensible map of tunnels; different lines were labeled in colors along with a variety of types of lines like perforated and dashed and curved as well as blocky. The legend was written in a dwarven language. Kip could make neither heads nor tails nor some third appendage of it. Baraz placed his blackened finger on one of the lines, “Here are the current dwarven pathways. Here are the projected construction areas-”

“What’s this purple line that runs through everything?”

“That’s Xrgl’s work. The giant purple worm. We can’t really work with them. But what I really want to point out is this chamber here. There’s a pinch point and it's lacking sufficient water to that area. That’s an area where a lot of Duergar are resting while we continue our expansion. The burrow above it, that’s the tunnel we use to transfer food from one floor to the next. You see, we could build a spring around it, but the earth would soak it up. We would need to transport a pipe straight through to the water level down to this section of the Underdark. If we could do that, then we’d have water. I’d be most in your debt, Dark Lord.”

Kip studied the map, some of it coming together, most of it staying obtuse. He flinched when he heard the Duergar call him the ‘DL’ word. When Kip thought about Davorin becoming Dark Lord, he didn’t have faith that Davorin would do these kinds of things. Listen to a miner explain how he needs water. Kip shook his head.

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“I… want to thank you, Baraz,” Kip said, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Of course you can route water through the lake above. Everybody needs water. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me about this problem.”

“Sir, if you could sign on the dotted line, we’d consider us to be in great debt to the new Dark Lord. Dark Lord Kip.”

Kip blushed, glad someone was taking him seriously. He took out his quill from his utility belt, dipped it in ink and asked, “Where do I sign?”

“Dotted line.” The duergar said with a mouth-open smile.

“Which one? There are several.”

The duergar pointed to the exact dotted line he needed to sign, permitting the excavation and installation of a pipe of water from the lake above.

“So,” Sal Mander said, “Is this meeting over? Because this really could have just been a scroll.”

“Uh, yes!” People started to disperse immediately, “Which one is here in Davorin’s proxy?”

A Thrall in a stuffy coat with overgrown pointed teeth raised his hand.

“Take me to Davorin.”

The thrall walked the Kobold down to Davorin’s wing of the castle. He grabbed the big ring on the door and knocked it.

“Busy.” Davorin said.

“Master…” The thrall looked back at Kip, “Kip is here. He says you missed an important meeting.”

“Who?”

Kip rolled his eyes and whispered to the thrall, “He knows bloody who.”

The thrall said back to the door, “The… new Dark Lord?”

Kip and the thrall both heard a deep sigh through the heavy door, “Tell him I’m sleeping.”

“Master, he knows you ain’t sleeping and can hear you through the door.”

After a moment of concrete silence, Kip stared at the thrall. The thrall shrugged his shoulders. And after another beat, The doors opened on their own. Davorin lounged on a chair, while a man in the toga fed him grapes like he was an emperor.

“What is it, Kit?” Davorin asked.

Kip said through gritted teeth, “My name’s not Kit. It’s Kip.”

“Is this what you came all this way to talk to me about?” Davorin asked as he drank from his glass of wine.

Kip scuttled forward into Davorin’s chambers. It was frozen in time from when Davorin had become a Vampire. He even had the furniture brought in from the next country over. It was made of a refined wood only found from a tree off the coast of the Mixta Sea. The Dark Lord had been good to Davorin, letting him have a place in Castle Inversa and giving him the title of Floor Lord.

“I’ve come to challenge you.”

“You’ve already been challenged, dummy. What is the point of a reverse challenge?”

“I’ve come to challenge your challenge. I have an issue with your wording.”

“What? You have an issue with me killing you?”

Kip shook his head, “No. I have an issue with killing you.”

Davorin took a pause before biting another grape and chewing it, Kip continued, “You see, you said this would be a one on one to the death. But.. you’re already dead. It is a question of whether or not somebody who is already dead can die again. Is it not?”

Davorin finally looked at Kip. His head didn’t move, just his eyes. They were blood red and shined as brightly in the day as they did in the night. Davorin sent his grapeboy away and stood up on his lounge chair. He placed both his hands on his knees and stared daggers at Kip. Kip shook a little but he knew his foundation was solid. There was a palpable silence before Davorin went, “Go on, then.”

“You can not kill something that’s Undead. Therefore… the terms need to be renegotiated.”

“What are your new terms? To fall into unconsciousness?”

“No…” Kip said, “There is a huge gap between us. A chasm. An entire canyon.”

“An ocean.” Chimed in the thrall.

“Thank you. If you land one finger on me, I’m dead. And if I land my strongest hit on you… then it will do nothing. So…”

“So what? On with it boy, I have a lot more grapes to get through.”

“So those will be the terms. The first person who lays a finger on the other gets the victory.”

Davorin grabbed a handful of grapes and started feeding them into his mouth, “And if I deny, it goes to tribunal. They deliberate and… while I miss our original date, maybe they rule in my favor anyway. Then there really is no hope for you to win.”

Kip gritted his teeth and asked, “Why are you such a bully?”

“It’s funner,” Davorin popped another grape in his mouth.

“I think… You’re scared.” Kip said it and the air left the room. Kip could feel Davorin’s glare weight on him like gravity got denser. The thrall let out a small gasp and the grapeboy went ‘oh’ from the other room.

“Scared?”

“You haven’t left the castle in fifteen years. Not since your fight with the Ducervi. If you become Dark Lord, maybe you’ll never have to leave this dungeon. Maybe you’ll never have to face them again. Maybe you’re so afraid of them that you’re afraid of my little finger by extension. Could that be true? The prince of darkness scared of a measly Kobold’s finger?”

Davorin chewed on the collection of grapes in his mouth. He wiped up the juice from his lip and sucked on his finger. Then, with a deep sigh said, “Fine. I agree to your stupid conditions. I shall beat you at any challenge in any location. Where?”

“The labyrinth! My home floor, before the promotion.”

Davorin slid back into his chair and called back the grapeboy with his hand. The grapeboy came over and Davorin continued his lounging.

“As you wish, ‘Dark Lord.’” The last two words were seeped with petulance.

“Great! I’ll see you then!” Kip said. And he turned and started to head out.

“Oh Kit!” Davorin called out to him.

Kip turned back, Davorin was not even looking at him. He had his beaming red eyes closed as he sucked down grapes, “Just because the rules have changed does not mean I will not kill you on the battlefield. Enjoy the rest of your time alive.”

“Th-thank you,” Was all Kip said before turning around and walking away.