Page 25 of The Dark Lord Awakens (Dark Service #1)

As we turned a corner, we came across a group of demons arguing loudly in front of what appeared to be a bathhouse—though “bath” was generous, as it was really just a large puddle in a stone basin.

“What’s happening here?” I asked.

Sir Formalitee hurried forward. “Vendor 42! Vendor 108! Cease this disturbance immediately! The Dark Lord is present!”

The demons froze, then prostrated themselves on the ground. The sight made my stomach turn. This fear, this absolute terror—this was what Lucien’s rule had inspired.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, trying to sound gentle rather than nauseated.

One demon, a blue-skinned fellow with small horns, raised his head slightly.

“Vendor 42, my lord. This miserable excuse for a merchant”—he jabbed a finger at the other demon—“claims he has exclusive rights to the communal bath on Tuesdays, but everyone knows Tuesdays are shared bathing days as established in the Great Hygiene Compromise of?—”

“There’s only one bathhouse?” I interrupted, unable to hide my incredulity.

“For this district, yes, my lord,” Sir Formalitee explained. “The Noble Quarter has private baths, of course.”

Of course. While the common people fought over puddles, the nobles maintained their luxuries. Three centuries of unchecked power had only widened the gap between the haves and have-nots.

“And how many people live in this district?”

Sir Formalitee consulted his clipboard. “Approximately two thousand, my lord.”

Two thousand people sharing one puddle that wouldn’t qualify as a kiddie pool. No wonder everyone smelled like they’d been marinated in gym socks. This wasn’t just medieval—this was a humanitarian crisis.

“Is there a natural water source nearby?” I asked, desperate for some solution, some way to start fixing this mess.

“The Sulfurous Springs lie just beyond the eastern wall,” Azrael supplied. “The water is heated by underground magma flows.”

A hot spring. They had a hot spring and people were fighting over a puddle. The absurdity of it would have been comical if it weren’t so heartbreaking.

“Why isn’t the spring being used for public baths?”

“The Noble Houses claimed the springs for their private use centuries ago,” Sir Formalitee explained. “It’s all very properly documented in the?—”

“Right,” I cut him off, unable to bear another word about proper documentation of suffering. “And where do people get drinking water?”

“The Well of Sorrows in the central market provides water for the common folk,” Azrael said. “Though the supply has been… inconsistent in recent years.”

One well. For an entire city. Medieval Europe had better infrastructure than this place. Whatever systems I’d designed in the game had clearly fallen apart during Lucien’s long absence.

We continued our tour, and with each step, I cataloged more problems that needed fixing, more suffering that needed to end.

No schools. No hospitals. No public services of any kind.

The only government function that seemed to be working efficiently was tax collection, courtesy of Lord Taxman’s Auditors of Doom.

Because of course the tax system would remain perfectly functional while everything else fell apart. The priorities of this kingdom had become severely warped in Lucien’s absence.

As we approached what Sir Formalitee called the “Residential Quarter”—which was just a slightly less terrible slum—I noticed a commotion ahead. A group of demons was gathered around something on the ground, their voices raised in distress.

I quickened my pace, pushing through the crowd. In the center lay a small demon child, unconscious, with skin so pale it was almost translucent. A larger demon, presumably the parent, cradled the child, rocking back and forth.

My heart seemed to stop in my chest. This wasn’t just abstract suffering anymore—this was a child, a real child, dying in front of me.

“What happened?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

The parent looked up, then immediately prostrated himself, still clutching the child. “Forgive me, Dark Lord! Citizen 1698 meant no disruption to your tour! He merely—he hasn’t eaten in three days, and I—I gave him my portion, but it wasn’t enough, and he just collapsed, and?—”

“Three days without food?” I turned to Sir Formalitee, who suddenly found his clipboard fascinating. The rage that surged through me then was unlike anything I’d ever felt. This child was starving to death, and the parent was apologizing to me for the inconvenience.

“There have been… supply issues, my lord,” he mumbled. “The latest shipment from the farmlands was delayed due to bandit activity, and the ration system prioritizes productive workers and?—”

I’d heard enough. I knelt beside the parent and child, ignoring Azrael’s sharp intake of breath. This moment, right here, was the culmination of three centuries of neglect and mismanagement.

“What’s your name?” I asked the parent, my voice gentle despite the storm of emotions raging inside me.

“Printer 7, my lord,” he replied, trembling.

Printer 7. Another placeholder name from the game that had become someone’s actual identity. Another reminder of how this world had evolved in ways I’d never intended.

“Your child needs food and medical attention,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. I looked up at the crowd. “Is there a healer nearby?”

The demons exchanged confused glances. Apparently, the Dark Lord asking for a healer rather than causing the injuries was outside their experience.

“Potion Mixer 15 has some skill with remedies,” someone volunteered hesitantly.

“Get them here. Now.” I turned to Sir Formalitee. “Have food brought from the castle kitchens. Enough for everyone in this district.”

Sir Formalitee’s eyes bulged. “Everyone? But my lord, that would be thousands of?—”

“Everyone,” I repeated, a steel in my voice I didn’t know I possessed. “And I want clean water brought as well.”

I stood, addressing the growing crowd. The words that came next weren’t planned or calculated—they erupted from somewhere deep inside me, from the part that couldn’t bear to see one more moment of this suffering.

“Listen to me. Things are going to change in Iferona. No one should go hungry. No one should drink filthy water. No one should live in squalor.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. I could see the disbelief in their eyes, mixed with a dangerous thing—hope. Hope that I wasn’t sure I could fulfill but was determined to try.

“I make you this promise,” I continued, the words coming from somewhere I didn’t recognize. “Within one month, every citizen will have enough food, clean water, and decent shelter. This I swear as your dark lord.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Then, to my shock, the demon parent prostrated himself again, touching his forehead to my boot.

“Blessed be the Dark Lord’s return,” he whispered. “The prophecy is fulfilled.”

Wait, what prophecy?

“Blessed be the Dark Lord’s return! The prophecy is fulfilled!” they all chanted.

Demons were dropping to their knees all around me, some weeping openly. Even Sir Formalitee had abandoned protocol to join the genuflecting masses.

I shot a questioning look at Azrael, who stood rigid as a statue, frost literally forming on his perfect uniform.

“There is an… obscure text,” he said stiffly, “that speaks of the Dark Lord returning from a great slumber, transformed into a bringer of prosperity rather than destruction. It was dismissed as heretical nonsense by the previous administration.”

Previous administration meaning him, I gathered. Azrael did not look pleased that the “heretical nonsense” was gaining traction.

“Well,” I said brightly, trying to mask the overwhelming mix of determination and terror churning inside me, “prophecy or not, we’re making changes. Starting with food distribution. Then water and sanitation.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Azrael replied, his voice as cold as his frosted lapels. “Though I must express concern about depleting the castle’s stores for… commoners.”

The way he said “commoners” made it sound like “cockroaches.” It was a stark reminder that while I might have different values than the original Lucien, the world and its power structures remained very much the same.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said firmly. “No one starves in my kingdom. Not anymore.”

Not if I had anything to say about it. I might not have asked for this responsibility, but I was damn well going to fix what had broken in Lucien’s absence. These people deserved better than what they’d endured for the past three centuries.