A Normal Day

            The sudden influx of light banished the pleasant dreams of soaring from Baou’s mind. In a futile attempt to resist the oncoming of the dreaded morning he grabbed a pillow and hid his head underneath it, groaning out his displeasure. A woman’s voice said something but he diligently ignored her words. She continued to say something but Baou pretended not to hear. He was still asleep, or so he tried to fool himself.

            The feminine voice went from a calm murmur, to a cold tempo, finally evolving into a harsh beat. Baou had the sudden feeling he had made a mistake some where, but his sleep addled mind couldn’t figure out where exactly.

            The flaring of magical power and a sudden pressure wrapping itself around his feet pointed him towards the problem. With a sudden yank Baou was bodily dragged from his bed, sheets and pillows flying haphazardly in his passing, by nearly-invisible bands of energy. He gave an indigent squawk, not that he would ever admit that, as he was dragged into the air and hung by his feet, swaying slightly.

            “Alright, alright,” Baou grumbled as he hung upside down, black clawed and pale skinned hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His long-pitch black hair hung limp from his head. “I’m up, I’m up, geez. Was that seriously necessary?”

            A tall woman with dark purple skin, long silver hair, and pointed ears, smirked at him from her seat in front of a finely crafted mirrored vanity table. The female dark elf, or drow, stood, her dark blue riding dress rustling as she did.

            “I just thought that you would want to say good-bye to your wife before she left for her trip,” she crocked a finger and Baou floated towards her, stopping face to upside down face “so what say you?”

            “You’re leaving today?” Baou frowned, trying to remember what day it was. He drew a blank. Thinking harder didn’t help. His work had piled up in the past month, as it did during this time of year. Last night had been in fact the first he had spent in his own bed in two weeks. “I thought you said the annual Arch-mage Council wasn’t for another two weeks.”

            His wife, Sylfrenna Shian, cocked an emasculate silvery eyebrow and said, “That was two weeks ago, dear.”

            “Ah-well,” Baou flashed a fanged grin in an attempt to cover his lapse in memory, and failing “I knew that, I was just testing to see if-you-ah-um,” he faltered “recollected?”

            She smirked.

            Damn he thought I should stop digging the hole now.

            “Stop digging, dear,” his wife patted his check, her words mirroring his thoughts, then kissed him “Love you, and see you in a week.” She waved a hand and her luggage, a single rectangular bag which was actually a dimensional storage chest, floated up and behind her.

            “Love, you too, Sil, have a good trip,” Baou said before she turned and headed towards their rooms exit. He paused for a moment, then shouted “Will you let me down!”

            There was a laugh from outside the room and the power holding him up vanished. Baou then found himself in the precarious position of once more being under the ever-vigilant control of gravity, and being face first with particularly hard-looking marble flooring. Luckily, his own magical power easily, and quickly, exerted itself freezing him in midair before he did a faceplant.

            Flipping over onto his feet Baou stretched, then scratched the base of his curving black draconian horns. His slited eyes flashed silver in the morning light from his bedroom window.

            “Crazy drow,” he smiled as he walked toward the large bedrooms equally large bathroom to get ready for a day of ruling, yippee.

            “As a great Demon Lord once said,” he quoted as he dressed in the ornate black and deep purple armored robes of his office “No rest for the wicked, and even less if you’re a demon lord.”

*          *          *

            Baou eased himself into the seat behind his large black oak desk, sighing. The finely carved desk was covered with stacks upon stacks of paper work. There were even stacks stacked next to the desk. Running the Dark Empire’s Eastern Province entailed many privileges and titles. It also came with a literal ton of paper work. And that was still after he had commissioned an army of clerks, scribes, and pencil pushers to help with the work load. Then there was the fact his province was neighbors with the human kingdoms east over the Great River, the Dwarvern Mountains north of that, and the Elves to the south.

            In short it was a total pain in his ass.

            Rubbing his neck, Baou removed a pair of glasses from a desk draw and gently put them one. They looked like to be a simple pair of reading glasses, but were so much more. They were enchanted reading glasses. Specifically, ones that let him read at thrice the pace, and retain information twice as well. Mixed with his draconian eye for detail, dragons had to know where every coin in their hordes were after all, it made for a potent combo.

            “Today, my’ lord,” his steward Herold, a large and old orc dressed in a finely cut suit, adjusted his reading glasses. Age hadn’t diminished the old orc’s warrior build in the least and in which he somehow managed to fit naturally into his dark formal suit “You still need to look over the provisions for an expedition to the Deep, countless petitions for funds by the local Mages College. Apparently, they have some great new ideas.”

            “They always have a great new idea, Herold,” Baou waved the words away “Like I’ve stated before, results pay. If they can prove that their invention will not only work, but is useful, they’ll get more funding. I don’t want a repeat of the exploding pumpkins incident.”

            “Of course, my lord,” the elderly orc waited expectantly.

            “Is there anything of note?” Baou rubbed the base of his horns and acquiesced.

            “There is my’ lord. A one Professor Glornack Moblog,” Herold pronounced the difficult sounding name with expert ease “A Noted Goblin Inventor and Professor, has invented something he is calling a Magus Engine. Apparently, it uses magic and some truly convoluted mechanics to produce power. He also notes that with the right funding he can use it to make self-propelled vehicles.” Herold paused then added “In my opinion I think it’s something you should look into.”

            “Interesting,” Baou rubbed his chin, then waved “schedule an appointment, I want to see if the thing actually works.”

            “Already done, my ‘lord.” Herold flipped to the next page “You’re to see the professor tomorrow afternoon.”

            “You always know what my answer is going to be, don’t you?” Baou laughed, shaking his head.

            “Not always my ‘lord,” the fastidious orc twitched a check muscle, his version of a wide grin “you are unequally predictably unpredictable.”

            “Anything else?” Baou grabbed a piece of paper off one of the particularly large stacks. It was a report from the southern Mithril mines. Apparently, they were having trouble with the local giant spider population, again. Other than that production was meeting expectations. “Send a unit to the Agbar Mines, they should be appreciated.”

            “Noted,” Herold jotted the orders down.

            “What else do you have?” Baou asked while flitting through more papers. Some he signed, or stamped, or otherwise approved, others he disintegrated with a flick of a hand.

            “You have an appointment with the High Nobles later this morning, I believe they are looking to brow beat you into giving them more freedom to do as they wish.” Herold, gave a slight eye roll at the mere thought of that ridiculous idea.

            “Oh really?” Baou laughed “I’ve been in need of a good comedy show, that should do just fine.”

            As Herold read off the rest of his report, Baou finished reading through more documents. It felt at times that those piles never changed no matter how many he completed. It was a recurring nightmare of his in fact. That and death by a thousand papercuts. He shuttered at the thought.

*          *          *

            Baou walked through the halls of his palace, followed by a mob of guards, clerks and other officials, all headed by two men, one being Herold. The other was a tall bird headed man of the Tengu species. His feathers and large beak, as well as a pair of massive black feathered wings sticking over his armored shoulders, were a glossy black. He was the commander of Baou’s personal guard, Captain Jaxdaw.

            Servants of all races, from a smattering of humans, beastmen of various species,  Lamias,  short gnomes and the slightly taller, but still short, goblins, bowed quickly at his passage, before continuing with their work. Baou didn’t greet them all, there was no point when he employed over a thousand servants, but did greet those he knew on a somewhat personal level.

            Baou caught sight of a Sky Courier taking off on a light green drake, a bundle of packages strapped behind the rider. The drake and rider were soon out of sight with but a few beats of the drake’s wings.

            Baou had a sudden flash of whimsy as he watched the small dragon fly off. He missed the time before becoming one of the four Dukes of the Dark Empire. He missed the freedom it had afforded him, he missed spreading his vast wings and soring high into the sky. But like everyone else, even black dragons had to grow up and get a job.

            Besides it had been years since he had to deal with idiotic gallant knights on a misguided quest to slay the “Evil” dragon or some such nonsense. That alone was worth the endless piles of paper work. Plate armor had always given him indigestion.

            Though on the other hand as a “Demon Lord” he had his own heroic variety of problems to deal with.

            So, I guess not much has changed after all he mused as he passed a large fancy tapestry depicting some ancient battle of some sort or another, I just have a nicer cave and bigger a horde.

            His musing ended when the sound of running feet echoed from around the corner ahead of him. Baou paused in his walking, causing those that followed him to halt in an ever-compressing line-up the further back it went.

            Baou waved off the few guards who had attempted to step in front of him.

            A young girl of maybe seven rounded the corner, her black hair fluttering behind her, her pale purple skin flushed with excitement. At the sight of Baou she skidded to a halt, slited silver eyes widening in shock. A pair of back ribbed horns ringed her brow. A look of guilty shock came over her face.

            A series of thumping boots sounded from around the corner and three young guards rounded the corner wearing the uniforms of senior cadets. Though of vastly different heights the trio all bore a striking resemblance to his guard captain.

            Though, Baou had to admit, all Tengu from Jax’s clan tended to look the same to him.

            The first of the cadets froze mid stride, skidding to a halt just behind the girl. he was of middling height, and carried a staff topped with a circular band of metal denoting his status as a mage. The second, a hulking warrior type with the hilt of what Baou thought might be a gigantic maul sticking over his shoulder, slammed into the first cadet’s back almost sending the young mage to the floor.

            The third, the smallest of the three, hit the second and bounced off as if hitting a brick wall, but recovered quickly, poking her ruffled feathered head around the seconds wide back.

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            All three looked on with chagrined guilt, not at Baou, but at Jax, their father.

            Uh-h-h.” the young girl tried for words, but ended up with “Hi daddy.”

            “Kasandra,” Baou put on a stern face in front of his daughter, as to hide the smile he could feel building, and crossed his arms sternly “What are you doing running around the halls, aren’t you supposed to be in class with your tutor’s right now?”

            Before his daughter could come up with an excuse for skipping, or more likely ditching, her lesson’s, the leading Tengu guard cadet spoke up. If Baou remembered correctly his name was Ryven, the leader of the triplets.

            “Forgive the intrusion my’ lord,” he said, black eyes flicking between the Duke and his father, then to Jax “Fath-uh- Guard Captain. But your daughter snuck out when Old Fog feell asleep while she was reading a passage for him. She was out the door before we knew what had happened.”

            “Which means you lot weren’t paying attention as I had warned you to do,” Jax’s deep voice sound from behind Baou before he could reply. “This also means were going to have a talk later, cadets.”

            All three made vehement plaudits before falling silent at a glare from the captain. Baou had heard tales of Jax’s talks before and felt sorry for the three. But he knew they could take it, they were the Captain’s children after all.

            “Now then young lady,” Baou said, once no more interruptions were apparent. He stared at his daughter with a sharp stare he usually reserved for dealing with heinous criminals, or the nobility. Not much difference really. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

            “Well you see,” Kassandra eyes flicked around in an attempt to avoid eye contact with her father “I… um… need to… go to… the… bathroom. Yeah that’s right, I need to go to the bathroom but Master Fog had fallen asleep and… I couldn’t wake him?”

            “Really?” Baou asked “Well in that case that certainly would explain why you were sprint down the hall just then. But wait isn’t there a washroom right by the class room?”

            Kassandra eyes widened at the revelation of the large hole in her reasoning.

            “Well, you must have forgotten that in your haste,” Baou finally let a half smile appear “so I suggest you head back that way, am I understood Kasandra?”

            “Yes father,” she nodded sullenly, before turning around to head back.

            “Oh, and dear?”

            “Yes?”

            “Next time try the west wing, I rarely go down that way.”

            She brightened instantly and gave an excited “Yes, dad,” before continuing, this time a little less sullenly. Her guards turned to follow.

            Once she was out of sight, Baou gave a low laugh before gesturing for his procession to continue.

*          *          *

            It was early afternoon before Baou finally made it to his throne room. It was nowhere near as grand as the one in the Demon King’s palace slash fortress; but that was like comparing a giant diamond to a smaller one.

            There’re both nice, but there’s a definite difference in size. Baou’s was made of carved black onyx and white marble, molded together with magic. His throne was a combination of the two stones carved with a high, flaring back, and no cushions. When it had been built, he had thought it a bit ostentatious, but had gone with his designer’s theme of the, paraphrasing“Big Bad Demon Lord of Darkness.” That and his wife had liked the idea.

            So now Baou sat upon his great throne and waited. Herold didn’t make him wait long, as usual. The finely dressed mountain of an Orc stepped into the throne room from a hidden side door, the same one Baou had used moments before, carrying his clipboard. As always.

            The Orc strode to stand in front and to the side of his throne. He adjusted his jacket, then rearranged his glasses.

            “Ready my ‘lord?”

            “Ready,” Baou nodded then took what he liked to call the dark lord posture on his throne; leaning slightly to the side, elbow on armrest, chin on left fist, the right arm laying on the other armrest.

            “The supplicants to the Duke of the Dark Empire, Ruler of the Eastern Province, Demon Lord Baou the Black Dragon, may enter his throne room,” Herold’s voice boomed out, echoing through the vaulted halls of the throne room.

            A pair of particularly large ogre guards, dressed in dark armor, pushed the massive doors to the throne room open. A line of people, all of different races and species, strode in. The ones at the front were dressed more finely and richly than those further back. There must have been at least a hundred of them today.

            Great Baou mentally sighed once more and grumbled Another all day-er.

*          *          *

            Hours later Baou finally finished meeting with the petitioners, answered all of the personal problems and questions. Baou thanked the gods, both of the dark and light variety, that he only had to do this twice a week. Because if he had to listen to every little petty problem of the nobility, and slightly less petty, but still inane, problems of the common citizen, he would have gone mad a century ago.

            “Is that all for the day, Herold?” Baou rubbed his eyes and asked the orc when the two were alone.

            “Yes, my ‘lord,” Herold ducked his head “that’s all for today. Though you do still have some paper work to finish before you can call it quits.”

            “Alright,” Baou waved him off “get the papers ready and I’ll meet you in the study in an hour.”

            “Very good,” Herold bowed once more, but before he could leave a commotion came from beyond the throne room doors.

            Said doors were flung open and one of the ogre guards was tossed inside, landing with a mighty clatter and skidding half way down the throne rooms floor. He was still alive, but Baou doubted the guard was happy about it. A young human clad in polished silivery armor strode into the throne room, a gleaming sword in hand. An unfelt wind tousled the young knights wavy blond hair in a crown around his handsome face.

            “Foul Demon Lord!” the hero boomed “I have come to smite you and free the land from your vile grip!”

            Baou sighed, and glanced at Herold, who gave him a commiserating look.

            “I’ll warn the guards it’s a code white knight,” Herold whispered before he hurriedly left. Baou, not for the first time and certainly not the last, cursed the day he agreed to become the Duke over the Eastern Province.

            Baou gave the young hero a forlorn look.

            “What do you want?” He asked in a deadpan voice.

            The hero faltered at Baou’s tone, but he quickly regained his pace.

            “Your Darkness has-” The hero started, but Baou interrupted him.

            “I’m am sorry but how long is this going to take?” Baou leaned forward. “It’s getting late and I still have work to do.”

            “I shall- um- wait, I’m sorry, what?” the hero stammered, obviously put off by Baou’s attitude.

            “How long is this going to take?” Baou repeated slowly “I have a lot of paperwork to finish before the day is over.”

            “I have come to slay you?” the hero attempted to say convincingly, and failed.

            “Yes, we’ve established this.” Baou nodded consolingly “But why?”

            “Because you-ah-” the hero faltered, frowned then regained steam “are an evil creature bent on world domination!”

            “No, I’m not,” Baou countered.

            “Um,” the hero scratched his head, then jabbed his sword at Baou and yelled “yes you are!”

            “What do you know of the Dark Empire?” Baou decided to take another tact.

            “It is an evil place filled with darkness and you are its ruler,” the hero’s voice rose to a gallant, or so he thought, crescendo.

            “No, no, no,” Baou waved away his words as if they were fouling up the air “I am not its ruler, I am one of it lords, a Duke in fact.”

            “There are more?” the hero looked confused, as if the thought had never occurred to him. Baou seriously wondered about the quality of education in the human kingdoms, also not for the first time.

            “Yes,” Baou smiled “Three others in fact. Then there’s the Demon King Ahemet, he’s the one in charge.” Baou added under his breath “The poor bastard.”

            “Then he is the one I shall smite after you!”  the hero thrust his sword into the air once, this time it glowed with a holly light.

            Nice effect Baou thought Wonder what enchantment they used to make it do that?

            “No, no, no,” Baou repeated aloud, then waved the hero’s thought away like last week’s garbage “That is a horrible idea.”

            The hero frowned at Baou for a long time before slowly asking “Why?”

            “First off,” Baou counted on his clawed fingers “If you kill the Demon King, which you can’t, as in he could squash you like a bug, but even if you did, all you would do is usher in an age of civil war in the Dark Empire. Second, If I’m dead at that point then I won’t be here to prevent vast armies of brigands, and other such ilk, from marching on your kingdoms and laying waste to them. Third I am many more times as powerful as you,” and smarter he added silently, “So that possibility is quite remote. Forth the Demon King is more powerful still.”

            “I have the faith in the gods light and justice!” the hero boomed, sword glowing. “And the backing of the Holy Church! I cannot fail!”

            “Yeah,” Baou bit his lip, mentally cringing at the hero’s naïve words, “About that. Who was it that sent you, because I’m assuming it was one of the Bishops.” At the hero’s blank stare Baou asked “Right?”

            The hero nodded, sword wavering just a bit.

            “Right,” Baou steepled his fingers “Was it Bishop Leroy or Bishop Oxford? Or maybe Bishop Karp, though I think he retired a few years ago.”

            “Oxford” the hero answered right off, then widened his eyes as if giving away a great secret.

            “Oxford, is it?” Baou rubbed his chin in thought. “Was it really him, or was it some priest or cleric who gave you that sword and told you to come Smite the Great Evil in the name of the Church”

            “Father Kibble trusted me with the sacred duty of vanquishing you.” The hero answered gallantly.

            “Right,” Baou sighed again, rubbing his temples “Did he give you a holy writ? No? I thought not. That means that you’ve been had.”

            “I’m sorry, what?” the hero faltered once more.

            “You’ve been had boy,” Baou shock his head forlornly “You see your Church and I have an understanding. They don’t send hero’s after me and mine, and I make sure my land’s Nobelings, and brigand, stay out of yours. Or at least chase down those that violate said treaty.”

            The hero looked utterly shocked.

            “You Lie!” he cried.

            “Young Hero,” Baou looked at him sharply, letting off a fraction of a fraction of his power which caused the very stones to rumble. The young hero began to sweat at the mere pressure Baou’s power was putting on him, and he had yet to do anything with it “You will not call me a liar. You have been played by a power-hungry priest, most likely looking to take credit on the off chance you actually manage to kill me. He most likely cares nothing for you, or the people, and only wants the prestige of sending a hero off to slay some distant evil to bolster his own standing. I have seen it many times before in my own time as the Duke of the Eastern Province. Which has been over a century I might add.”

            The young hero actually thought about it, and Baou felt there was hope for him yet. It was always a good sigh when the young thought on their actions. Baou let him think on it for a bit longer, before adding his own words to the young hero’s thoughts.

            “How about this?” Baou supplied “Why don’t you go back and talk with Bishop Oxford. If he actually sent you here, then you can come right back and attempt to slay me, that sound good?”

            “But it’s a month-long journey to Windhaven,” the Hero shook his head, not realizing yet that he had been swayed.

            “I can fix that,” Baou smiled and waved a hand, opening a portal to the forest outside the city. He explained so to the Hero. “You go through this and presto, your back, so how about it?”

*          *          *

            Once the Hero had been convinced some more, he had finally agreed to exit through the portal, and to carry a letter from Baou to Bishop Oxford. Herold stepped back into the throne room, followed by Jax who only stuck his head out for a moment to see that all was well. Unbeknownst to the Hero an entire contingent of Elite Guards, numbering around a hundred, was poised to storm the throne room though multiple secret entrances in the extremely unlikely case that things went pourly.

            There was a faint smile on Herold orcish face, revealing his thick tusks. He was shaking his head in utter amazement. Baou looked at his steward and cocked an eyebrow at the unusual expression of emotion from the usually stalwart orc.

            “Whenever I wonder why his Majesty picked you to rule as the Eastern Duke, you go and do something like this,” the Orc removed then cleaned his glasses, chuckling lowly “All the Heros and would be Galant Knights who have walked through these halls have been sent packing home, usually without a mark on them. You have the power to annihilate entire cities, and armies with a single breath, yet you’d rather talk your enemies out of fighting, and make them think it was their idea in the first place.”

            “What can I say?” Baou shrugged “I have a silver tongue.”

            “A silver dragons tongue perhaps” Herold noted, then pulled out his clipboard. “Now that all this excitement is over,” he flipped to the next page “we have business to complete.”

            Baou just sighed.

*          *          *

            Far to the east in the city of Windhaven, Bishop Oxford was just sitting down for his afternoon tea when he felt a familiar magic being activated somewhere in his cathedral. Giving a heavy sigh, he hefted his aging bones from his comfortable sitting chair and shuffled to his desk and sat in his slightly less comfortable working chair, and waited.

            It wasn’t long before his young assistant, Brother Appleton, arrived with someone in tow.

            “Excuse me Bishop Oxford,” the young man said as he entered the bishop’s office “But you have someone to see you. Says he’s just came from a, as he puts it, confusing confrontation with Duke Baou Shian, though he used the term Demon Lord.”

            Another one? The bishop sighed mentally Second time this year. Looks like someone’s going to need a good talking to. Wonder who’s it’s going to be this time. My money’s on Father Kibble, he has been quite vocal about his worth recently.