Page 31 of The Dark Lord Awakens (Dark Service #1)

They were actually doing it. They were planning a massive humanitarian operation based on my half-baked ideas and random suggestions. Either I was accidentally brilliant, or they were so desperate for leadership that any direction was better than none. Probably the latter.

“We’ll need volunteers from each district to help with setup and to spread the word,” I said, feeling a bit more confident now that nobody had laughed in my face—at least not yet. “Those who step forward will be remembered and rewarded.”

“I shall announce a call for volunteers immediately, my lord,” Sir Formalitee declared, already scribbling furiously on his clipboard. “Protocol 12D: Recruitment of Civilian Assistance During Non-Combative Emergencies clearly outlines the procedure for?—”

“Just tell them we need help and there’s food involved,” I interrupted gently.

My customer service experience had taught me that complex explanations rarely work as well as simple incentives.

Free food got people to sit through timeshare presentations; it would probably work for demon volunteer recruitment too.

Sir Formalitee blinked rapidly, like a computer trying to process an unexpected command, then made a note. “Simplified recruitment messaging. Most innovative, my lord.”

A demon with the head of a crow and fingers that ended in quills stepped forward. “Scribe 103, my lord. I can produce illustrated announcements for distribution throughout the city. Many lower district residents cannot read the high demonic script.”

“Perfect,” I said, mentally adding “literacy program” to my ever-growing list of “things this kingdom desperately needs that I have no idea how to provide.” “Keep the message simple: help is coming, go to the Ashen Fields, bring your family, no one will be turned away.”

Scribe 103 nodded, already sketching in the air with his quill-fingers, leaving glowing trails that formed simple pictograms. It was like watching a demonic PowerPoint presentation being created in real time.

“What about transportation?” I asked. “Not everyone will be able to walk to the Ashen Fields, especially the sick or elderly.”

General Smashington gestured to one of his lieutenants, a muscular demon with the lower body of a horse.

“Commander Hoofcrusher’s cavalry can provide transport for those unable to walk.

They are… gentle when required.” The last part seemed to be added reluctantly, as if “gentle” was a shameful weakness for a warrior to possess.

Commander Hoofcrusher saluted with a clash of metal gauntlets that made me jump slightly. “We shall convey the infirm with the utmost care, my lord! Not a single elderly demon shall be trampled under our watch!”

I decided to take that as the reassurance it was presumably meant to be, though the specific promise not to trample the elderly suggested a concerning history that I didn’t want to explore right now.

“What about shelter arrangements?” I asked, trying to envision how to organize a camp for thousands of demons with wildly different physiologies and social structures. “The tents will need to be organized logically.”

A tall, thin demon with skin like parchment and eyes that glowed with geometrical patterns stepped forward. “Architect 17, my lord. I suggest we arrange the tents in concentric circles around central facilities—food, water, medical. This creates efficient traffic flow and defensible space.”

Concentric circles? That sounded way more sophisticated than my vague plan of “put tents where they fit.” This demon had clearly thought about this more in the last five minutes than I had in my entire life.

“Good thinking,” I agreed, trying to sound like I was evaluating his suggestion rather than latching on to it like a drowning man to a life preserver. “But let’s also ensure there are community spaces between tent clusters. People need to socialize, especially during hardship.”

Architect 17 looked momentarily confused, then nodded. “Social… interaction. Yes. I shall incorporate… gathering areas.” He said this as if it were a novel concept, which made me wonder just how dystopian life in Iferona had been before my arrival.

By the time we finished, we had a comprehensive plan: establish a relief camp at the Ashen Fields, move the most vulnerable citizens there first, set up distribution systems based on family or pod size, create a registration process to prevent hoarding, and position guards to maintain order without intimidation.

I was simultaneously impressed by how much we’d accomplished and terrified by how much could go wrong.

This wasn’t like planning a company picnic where the worst-case scenario was running out of potato salad.

People’s lives were at stake, and I was in charge despite having absolutely no qualifications beyond a business degree and extensive experience with resource management video games.

“One last thing,” I said as we prepared to conclude, trying to sound wise rather than panicked.

“This is emergency relief while we develop longer-term solutions. In the coming days, we’ll need to address the city’s infrastructure, food production, and housing.

But for now, let’s focus on keeping everyone fed, hydrated, and sheltered. ”

Sir Formalitee raised his hand tentatively. “My lord, shall I schedule a follow-up strategic planning session for three days hence? That would allow time for initial distribution while providing a framework for long-term developmental discussions.”

I nodded, impressed by his foresight and grateful that someone was thinking ahead, because my planning horizon currently extended about six hours into the future.

“Excellent suggestion. Three days from now, same location. Please prepare reports on the most urgent infrastructure needs in each district.”

The meeting dispersed with remarkable efficiency, each demon hurrying off to fulfill their assigned tasks. Azrael remained by my side, his expression unreadable.

“Your… management style is different than before,” he said finally.

“Different good or different bad?” I asked, genuinely curious. I’d been making it up as I went along, guided by nothing but common sense and vague memories of disaster relief documentaries.

“Different… effective,” he replied carefully. “Though I admit, I expected more threats of disembowelment. The previous administration found that motivational fear improved productivity.”

“I find collaboration works better than intestinal removal for most administrative tasks,” I said dryly. “Positive reinforcement tends to yield better results than terror.” Thank you, Management 201: Organizational Behavior. Who knew that class would actually come in handy?

“Indeed, my lord. Most innovative.” Azrael’s tone was neutral, but I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something like approval in his crimson eyes.

“Though I must confess, your ability to remember all these demons’ designations is impressive.

The previous you often referred to everyone as ‘you there’ or ‘insignificant worm.’”

I hadn’t actually remembered their designations—I’d just been responding to whoever spoke.

But I wasn’t about to admit that. “A good leader knows their team,” I said, trying to sound wise rather than completely out of my depth.

I was pretty sure I’d read that on a motivational poster somewhere, probably next to a picture of an eagle or a mountain climber.

“Indeed, my lord.” Azrael bowed slightly. “Shall we inspect the Ashen Fields before the supplies arrive? It would be prudent to familiarize yourself with the terrain.”

“Lead the way,” I said, grateful for the suggestion. I needed to see this place for myself before hundreds of tons of supplies and thousands of desperate demons converged on it. Plus, I needed to get out of this room before someone asked me a question I couldn’t bluff my way through.