The Overlord sat at the head of the table. It was a long table. Twenty, maybe thirty feet long total. There were rows and rows of chairs on either side, but each was empty. At the other end of the table was Maviel’s seat. But she was late. So the Overlord sat there, alone, waiting for his lunch.
The Overlord thought, ‘Check scheduled lunchtime.’
[Scheduled lunchtime set for 12:30]
[Current time is 12:45]
[Lunchtime is 15 minutes past due]
Great. Even his food was late. What kind of a society was this, anyway, that a supreme Overlord such as himself was made to sit among empty chairs at an empty table waiting for his supreme luncheon?
The Overlord gripped the small silver bell in his right hand and jingled it, its bright chime echoing through the wide, thronging dining room. As its echo died out, soon this bell’s ring was met only with silence.
The Overlord was growing angry. What did he do to deserve such a treatment? Where was his mistress, Maviel? What was his chef doing that was so important that she’d neglected her one and only job, specifically the job of preparing a fine meal for the Overlord? Is this really the kind of respect the Overlord commanded, after two hundred years of reigning supreme?
Still nothing. The Overlord thought, ‘Check scheduled lunchtime.’
[Scheduled lunchtime set for 12:30]
[Current time is 12:51]
[Lunchtime is 21 minutes past due]
This had gone too far. Someone had to be held accountable, to be made an example of for this collective show of intense disrespect. The Overlord stood up and pushed his chair over to the side. One of its ornate, gilded legs snapped off. No matter. What good was an expensive chair if the one sitting in it got no respect from his inferiors? The Overlord would show them.
He stormed off, towards a pair of pocket doors. The Overlord thought ‘Activate Telekinesis.’ He raised his right and left hands and pushed them to either side in the air. The doors flew open in response, jerking to either side so quickly that they slammed into the inside of each wall and sent cracks up into the ceiling.
[Stamina 98%]
No matter. The Overlord walked through the open entrance.
[Stamina 100%]
The Overlord walked into the parlor, admiring the damask wallpaper and the large marble statue of himself he’d had imported from Surtada. Lovely, though they could’ve made him look a little more muscular, the Overlord noted.
The Overlord heard two voices murmuring amongst one another. One was Babqex, the imp’s nasally whining was unmistakable. The other took the Overlord a moment to identify. It was a soft, feminine voice.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Babqex. “We have no control over what he sees in the system.”
Damn right, they didn’t. Nobody had control over the Overlord. That’s why they called him the Overlord, after all.
“That very well may be, but if the conditions that allowed what has happened to keep happening continue, we will soon be in an even greater mess,” said the lady.
The Overlord recognized her now. It was Sylfir Dewmind, an elf. She was one of the Overlord’s many envoys, though he oftentimes felt she thought a little too much about her homeland of Devgastya and a little too less about the Overlord’s interests. What exactly was Sylfir going on about with Babqex now? They seemed to be keeping it suspiciously vague.
“That wasn’t my fault!” said Babqex. “I have no idea why or how an appropriate vessel got prepared so fast, but all we can do is hope that someone finds the new player and kills him before it’s too late.”
Oh. They were talking about the new player. Yes, damn right Babqex was stressing the hell out about this mess. How a new player joined, the Overlord had no idea, it’d been so long since he himself had gotten dropped into Beaubinte that it almost felt like a dream.
“Well, it may not be your fault, but it was your responsibility,” said Sylfir. “Now that he knows, well, who knows what questions he’s going to start asking! Are you prepared for that? Are you ready to start answering the Overlord’s questions? Because I sure as hell am not!”
The Overlord hadn’t realized it was Babqex’s responsibility to know whether an ‘appropriate vessel’ was ready or not, whatever in the hell that meant. The Overlord saw Babqex more as a necessary nuisance than anyone with real responsibilities.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” said Babqex. “But hey, the Overlord had me send out an ad campaign, a bit of bounty hunter bait, if you will, offering a reward for finding the player. So it’s not like I’m just sitting on my hands here.”
“You didn’t do it, did you?” asked Sylfir. Her voice was faint now, almost a whisper. “Tell me you didn’t do it. Tell me you lied to the Overlord.”
The Overlord was starting to wonder just what in the hell Sylfir was playing at. Was she telling Babqex to commit treason? Did he need to have them both flayed alive?
“Sylfir, there’s no way I could lie to him about that,” said Babqex.
‘Damn right,’ thought the Overlord.
[Error: Command ‘Damn right’ not known]
The Overlord rolled his eyes and thought, ‘Hide System error code damn right.’
[Error code hidden for 60 days]
‘Damn right,’ thought the Overlord. No dialogue popped up this time.
“Besides—” said Babqex, “I figured that, if anything, it might be helpful to have bounty hunters out looking for the player. Maybe one of them will kill him before we even have to try anything, and then the whole problem is solved like that!”
“Babqex, you are a fucking imbecile,” said Sylfir. “Don’t you realize that putting out a wanted campaign for a new player is letting the cat out of the bag to the entire world, or at least to our half of it? Do you want everyone in Beaubinte knowing there’s a new player? Someone who could rival the Overlord? I know I sure as hell don’t want that, he’s difficult enough to control on his own, I don’t even want to think about the headache involved with managing two rival players that—”
“Excuse me,” said the Overlord as he walked into the side room where Babqex and Sylfir stood. “I’m not sure if I’ve been hearing everything correctly just now, but did one of you say something about controlling me?”
“Oh no, not at all, your Overlord-ness,” said Babqex. “Sylfir was simply telling me that she thought that… um… that the wanted posters for the new player might be a bit much.”
“A bit much, eh?” The Overlord walked up to Sylfir and looked into her light pink irises, the soft, pale skin of her face almost glowing with supple radiance. He found it hard to be excessively angry with her, but at the same time, the Overlord thought he might be looking at a potential usurper. “Sylfir, I think it’s time the two of us had a talk. Alone.”
[Speechcraft attempt: charm]
Oh, so Sylfir was going to try and win the Overlord over with charm after telling one of his subordinates to disobey him. That was cute.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“A talk, Overlord?” Sylfir asked, her eyes going wide.
[Speechcraft attempt had mixed results]
“Yes, Sylfir, a talk,” said the Overlord. “Just a talk. But only after I’ve had my lunch.”
“Yes sir,” said Sylfir. “Just tell me when.”
“Now, Babqex,” said the Overlord. “I’ve got a very important question for you.”
“My liege?” asked Babqex, who looked about ready to cry out in fright.
“Why the fuck is my lunch—” The Overlord stopped himself and raised a finger. The Overlord thought, ‘Check Scheduled Lunchtime.’
[Scheduled lunchtime set for 12:30]
[Current time is 1:10]
[Lunchtime is 40 minutes past due]
The Overlord cleared his throat and glared at Babqex. “Why the fuck is my lunch fourty minutes overdue?”
“I don’t know, my liege! It must’ve been a mistake,” said Babqex.
“A mistake?” The Overlord raised his right hand and thought ‘Activate Telekinesis.’
The Overlord balled his hand into a fist, and then punched it up into the air. In unison, Babqex raised into the air and his back slammed into the ceiling.
[Stamina 97%]
“Fix it!” said the Overlord. He turned around and walked back into the parlor in a huff.
[Stamina 100%]
As the Overlord walked back towards the dining room, he noticed the slender form of Maviel standing by the doorway.
“Darling, what’ve you done to the pocket doors?” asked Maviel, looking up at the ceiling. “And the moulding is practically destroyed now. What made you so angry?”
“You, and that infernal chef of mine,” said the Overlord, stepping close to Maviel and almost pinning her to the wall. “Why are you so late to my lunch?”
“Late? Why, darling, I’m only late because I was looking for you! I came to the table at one o’clock, as we planned, and the most beautiful sirloin steak sat there waiting at your place. But you were nowhere to be seen!” said Maviel.
“One o’clock? We said twelve thirty, damnit!” the Overlord said, slamming his fist into the wall, which cracked and shuddered.
[515 damage dealt]
[Stamina 95%]
The Overlord drew back his fist, seeing fear, or perhaps astonishment, in Maviel’s eyes.
[Stamina 100%]
“I could’ve sworn you said one, darling, I’m sorry,” said Maviel. “The cook seemed to think it was scheduled for one, too.”
“Well, the system said twelve thirty!” said the Overlord. “The system doesn’t mishear me, you know! What’s more, don’t you all have my system? Aren’t you part of my party? Why couldn’t you just check the system to know that you were late?”
“Honestly, darling, it never even occurred to me that I could check lunchtime with the system,” said Maviel. She massaged the Overlord’s arm. “Now, can’t you see it was just an honest mistake? Why would anyone want to make you this angry?”
“That very well may be,” said the Overlord. “It’s just frustrating when you think you’ve been forgotten and disrespected by your entire court! And after all I’ve achieved, all I’ve done for you!”
“Don’t worry, darling, don’t worry. That’s a ridiculous thing to think. Now come, why don’t we go have lunch together? I think you might be getting a little hangry,” said Maviel.
“Yes, lunch will be good,” said the Overlord. He nodded to Maviel, who led him towards the lunchroom by a pull of the wrist. It was like when they were younger, and he was less powerful.
Still, as the Overlord sat at the table and cast a spell to warm his steak back up to perfection, he couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. Even looking up to see Maviel smiling perfectly back at him, the Overlord felt unease.
This new player had thrown his mind into torment. What’s more, the Overlord was sinking deeper and deeper into the throes of paranoia. Something about how Babqex and Sylfir had been talking behind his back made the Overlord’s skin crawl, and it was all he could think about.
Sylfir, obviously, had designs on him, which was something that had never really occurred to the Overlord before. Worse still, apparently Babqex was somewhat untrustworthy. The Overlord had always figured Babqex was more spineless than he was anything else, but he’d never taken him for a conspirator. Then again, maybe it was all Sylfir, and Babqex was just too much of a pushover to do anything about it. Yes, that made sense. And, of course, that meant that all the Overlord had to do was deal with Sylfir, and everything would be settled.
But could it ever be so simple? What of Maviel, what of the cook? Had they really misheard him, or was something more sinister at play? The Overlord looked to Maviel subtly this time, without her noticing. She was chewing on a piece of her steak. He couldn’t help but think how ruthless she looked in that moment. How viciously she chewed. Was she just enjoying the steak, or was this more of a glimpse into her own psyche? Was Maviel in cahoots with Sylfir? Was everyone in his court in cahoots with Sylfir? Had the late lunch been an elaborate mind game meant to further toy with the Overlord, as if having to worry about the new player wasn’t enough on its own?
“Darling, what’s the matter now?” asked Maviel. “You’ve hardly touched your steak.”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” said the Overlord. He stood up, scowled, and walked out of the room.
The Overlord walked down the parlor and took a right down a long hallway. He took a left down another hallway, and then walked out a door to the left into a lush garden. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and insects were buzzing along merrily. The Overlord hated the garden, and found all of these things despicable and irksome, but the monks had insisted he allow them to keep it, and from their spiritual power alone the Overlord had felt compelled.
As walked further and further along the garden’s winding pathways, the Overlord felt part of his mind slowly drifting, he felt a trickle of peace flowing into his soul. It made him uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as hearing two of his attendants talking about him behind his back.
The Overlord walked on a bridge that went over a large koi pond. He did like the koi fish, the way they bobbed and weave under the water was mesmerizing. Stepping off the bridge, the Overlord weaved through small pathways in overgrown bamboo until he found the Shrine he was looking for.
His stomach felt queasy. The Overlord had held out from pledging or praying to any deity, he felt it lowered his own station, but he knew that this god could help him. Swallowing his pride, the Overlord stood before the statue and kneeled.
Shrine of Bubris, God of Truth
Description: This god of truth takes the form of a stocky, sleazy old man with wide purple eyes and tanned skin. He is always seen in the nude and carries an old longbow.
Grants: The ability to tell if someone is lying to you or not.
Activate? Y/N
The Overlord thought yes.
[Shrine activated]
With a poof of blue smoke, the statue standing before the Overlord became a living, breathing person. Or, at least, that’s how it appeared.
“Hello, hello, hello!” said Bubris, smiling cheerfully. “Good to be activated, good to be activated. What can I do you for?”
The Overlord stood up and solemnly addressed the god, who stood only a little higher than his waist. “I need your truth telling ability, Bubris. It is absolutely imperative.”
“I see, I see,” said Bubris. “You know I’m always happy to grant abilities to my worshippers. You do worship me, right? You understand you’ve got to worship me to get granted anything from me, right?”
“Yes,” the Overlord said stiffly. “I worship you.”
“Great, great, that’s what I like to hear, that’s lovely,” said Bubris. “So, how long have you been worshipping me? I understand you tried to get my statue removed a couple months ago, did you have a change of heart, or—”
“I just started worshipping you. Right now,” said the Overlord. Swallowing whatever semblance of pride he had left, he kneeled again for effect.
“Okay, okay, I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” said Bubris. “Well then, would you mind repeating my oath of worship for me?”
The Overlord bit his lip in frustration. “Sure.” He didn’t know what Bubris’ oath of worship was, but he knew the system did. ‘Recite Oath of Worship Bubris,’ thought the Overlord.
[Reciting Bubris’ Oath of Worship]
Involuntarily, the Overlord spoke the words, “I, Debsor Dhiurthu, do solemnly pledge my worship and alliegance to the most cherished god of truth Bubris, may my love for him echo throughout eternity.”
[Oath recited]
“Lovely stuff, lovely. Hearing people say that is one of my favorite things, especially when they’re really powerful like you are,” said Bubris. “Alright, guess I owe you that truthtelling ability. Enjoy, buddy!”
Bubris raised his left hand and a sparkle of pink lightnigh struck the Overlord in the chest. It didn’t hurt, it just kind of tingled.
[The Gift of Truthtelling has been bestowed upon you by Bubris]
“Alright, then. Anything else, or can I get out of here?” asked Bubris.
“That’s it,” said the Overlord.
“Okey dokey. Bet you’re glad you didn’t axe my statue now, eh, buddy?” asked Bubris.
Before the Overlord could answer, Bubris became a statue again in another poof of blue smoke.
The Overlord felt dirty, but he’d done what he set out to do. Going forward, he wasn’t going to leave it up to guessing to know whether or not his court was lying to him. And, if any of them did, the Overlord would know exactly whose heads to sever.