Page 44 of The Dark Lord Awakens (Dark Service #1)
“Goodbye, Supremo,” I said firmly.
[Helpdesk Supreme wishes valued customer success in today’s administrative activities, despite your sartorial rebellion. This unit will maintain passive monitoring status while contemplating the collapse of proper Dark Lord standards.]
The window dimmed slightly but remained hovering in the air. I returned to my breakfast, attacking the remaining pancakes with renewed vigor.
“The clothes should be here within the hour,” I said between bites, noting Azrael’s bewildered and slightly betrayed expression. “Just in time for the meeting.”
“My lord,” Azrael said stiffly, eyeing the space where the interface hovered, “I was unaware that void entities could… take sides.”
“Welcome to my world,” I muttered. “Apparently interdimensional shopping assistants have opinions about everything.”
The interface briefly brightened.
[Helpdesk Supreme does not have ‘opinions.’ This unit has extensively researched data on effective ruler presentation across multiple realms. This unit merely provides optimal recommendations based on statistical analysis.]
“Go back to sleep mode, Supremo.” I sighed.
[Helpdesk Supreme does not ‘sleep.’ This unit is merely adjusting active engagement parameters as requested while maintaining disapproval of your fashion choices.]
I turned to Azrael. “See what I have to deal with?”
For the first time since I’d met him, Azrael looked genuinely sympathetic. “Indeed, my lord. Perhaps the traditional regalia isn’t so bad after all?”
“Nice try,” I said, returning to my breakfast. “But I’m still getting new clothes.”
Azrael stood in silence, clearly torn between his duty to advise me and his duty to obey.
I couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his discomfort.
The idea of the Dark Lord of Iferona in sleek, modern-fantasy fusion rather than spikes and bone accents was apparently causing him physical pain, and the fact that I’d ordered it all while having what appeared to be an animated conversation with myself probably wasn’t helping matters.
True to Sesame’s promise, a small portal opened in the center of the room exactly forty-seven minutes later. Several large boxes emblazoned with the OpenSesame logo emerged, hovering in the air before settling gently to the floor.
“Would you like me to examine these void garments for any potential hazards, my lord?” he asked stiffly, eyeing the boxes with the suspicion usually reserved for packages that might contain explosives.
“They’re clothes, Azrael, not weapons of mass destruction.” I opened the largest box, revealing neatly folded stacks of my new wardrobe. “Though I suppose looking this good might be considered dangerous in some circles.”
I selected a pair of slim-cut leather pants in deep black, a midnight-blue silk shirt with subtle silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs, and a black brocade waistcoat with a subtle pattern that caught the light when I moved.
To complete the look, I chose a floor-length cloak in the same midnight blue as the shirt, lined with silver silk and fastened with a simple but elegant silver clasp.
The quality was exactly what I’d hoped for—fine fabrics, perfect stitching, the kind of clothes that would have cost me a month’s salary in my previous life.
Azrael watched in barely concealed horror as I dressed myself, leaving the top two buttons of the shirt undone.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the ornate mirror across the room and had to admit I looked good—the clothes fit perfectly, highlighting my lean frame and contrasting nicely with my pale skin and silver-white hair.
The outfit struck exactly the balance I’d been hoping for—elegant and slightly otherworldly without veering into costume territory.
“Well?” I turned to Azrael. “What do you think?”
For a moment, Azrael seemed at a loss for words. His crimson eyes widened slightly, sweeping over my form with an intensity that was almost palpable. I could have sworn I saw his throat move in a swallow before he composed himself.
“The garments appear to… fit you adequately, my lord,” he managed finally.
“High praise indeed,” I said dryly. “Come on, we don’t want to be late for the meeting.”
As we walked through the corridors of the Dark Citadel, I could feel Azrael’s gaze on me.
Every time I glanced his way, he would immediately look ahead, his posture rigid.
But the moment I turned away, I could sense his eyes returning to me, lingering particularly when I reached up to adjust my collar or stretched my arms, causing the leather pants to…
well, do what well-fitted leather pants do.
My demon butler apparently had a thing for modern-fantasy fusion.
Moments later, the meeting room fell into immediate silence as I walked in.
Every department head froze mid-conversation, their eyes widening as they took in my appearance.
General Smashington’s arms actually dropped the battle maps he’d been holding, while Magister Wiggles’ translucent skin rippled with agitated magical patterns.
Duke Splashypants, who had been gesturing emphatically over a map of the marshlands, went completely still, his webbed hands frozen mid-gesture.
“Morning, everyone,” I said cheerfully, sliding into the ornate chair at the head of the table. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
No one moved. No one spoke. They just… stared.
“Okay, seriously? They’re just clothes.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Can we move past the fashion shock and get to the actual meeting?”
Sir Formalitee was the first to recover, clearing his throat with a sound like rustling parchment. “Of course, my lord. I have prepared the agenda as requested.” He shuffled his papers nervously, his eyes still darting to my waistcoat. “We shall begin with the infrastructure assessment reports.”
“Perfect. Who’s first?”
Mistress Pokey stood, her bark-like skin creaking slightly.
“My lord, I have surveyed the agricultural zones as commanded. The situation is… dire.” She unfurled a map of what I assumed were the farming areas.
“The Twilight Farmlands have been overplanted for centuries. The soil is depleted beyond natural recovery.”
“Can we fix it?” I asked, leaning forward to examine the map.
“With time and proper techniques, yes. But it would require leaving large sections fallow for at least a growing cycle, further reducing our already inadequate food production.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll keep using the void portal for food while we rehabilitate the land. What about indoor growing systems? You know, using artificial light?”
Mistress Pokey blinked her leaf-lidded eyes in confusion. “Artificial… light, my lord?”
“Yeah, like—” I stopped, remembering where I was. “Sesame, I need some agricultural reference materials. Books on hydroponics, vertical farming, and soil rehabilitation techniques. Make them appropriate for this realm’s technology level.”
The blue window hovering near my chair brightened. [Certainly, Lord Lucien. Would you prefer physical texts or digital formats?]
“Physical. And make sure they’re translated into whatever language these folks use.”
[Processing request. I can provide comprehensive agricultural manuals with visual aids. Would you also like educational models or starter kits?]
“Actually, yes. Send some basic hydroponics starter kits too.”
The department heads watched this exchange with expressions ranging from awe to confusion to poorly concealed alarm as I conversed with empty space. Magister Wiggles, however, looked like he might explode from excitement, the magical patterns under his skin swirling at dizzying speeds.
“My lord,” he breathed, “you commune directly with the void consciousness? This is unprecedented!”
“It’s just a shopping service,” I said, deciding not to burst his bubble completely. “Mistress Pokey, once these materials arrive, I want you to study them and develop a pilot program. We need sustainable food production, not just emergency relief.”
She bowed deeply. “As you command, my lord.”
After Mistress Pokey’s report, Duke Splashypants rose, water droplets cascading from his amphibious form as he moved.
“My lord, the Murk Marshes offer an alternative food source,” he said, his voice gurgling slightly.
“The marshlands contain numerous edible species that require minimal cultivation. With proper harvesting techniques, we could supplement the realm’s food supply while the farmlands recover. ”
“That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need,” I said, genuinely impressed. “What would you need to make that happen?”
“Primarily labor, my lord,” Duke Splashypants replied, standing a bit straighter at my approval. “The marshes are dangerous to the uninitiated. My people could train harvesting teams, but we would require protective equipment and transportation for the gathered resources.”
“Make a list of what you need,” I told him. “We’ll prioritize it.”
Duke Splashypants bowed, water dripping from his elaborate collar. “As you command, Master of the Moist Dominion.”
I managed not to choke at the title. “Right. Moving on…”
General Smashington stepped forward next, his massive form casting shadows across the table.
“The security situation requires your attention, my lord.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
“Our scouts report increased activity in the Howling Forest. Whatever drove out the goblins and dwarves is growing stronger.”
“Any idea what we’re dealing with?”
The general’s expression darkened. “The descriptions are… inconsistent. Some speak of shadow creatures that consume both matter and magic. Others report massive beasts with countless eyes. Lady Shadowfax’s agents penetrated deeper than most, but even they could not provide clear intelligence.”
Lady Shadowfax’s shadowy form rippled slightly. “My best scout described it as ‘hunger given form,’ my lord. Before he lost his mind.”