Page 45 of The Dark Lord Awakens (Dark Service #1)

Well, that was cheerful. “Have we established a perimeter? I don’t want whatever this is getting anywhere near the camp.”

“Triple patrols along the forest edge,” General Smashington confirmed. “And I’ve stationed our strongest combat units in reserve. But if these entities can consume magic itself…”

I nodded grimly. “Keep the patrols alert, but no heroics. If something emerges, I want to know immediately.”

The meeting continued, with each department head reporting on their area of responsibility.

The picture that emerged was of a realm on the brink of collapse—not just from hunger, but from centuries of neglect and mismanagement.

The water sources were contaminated, buildings were crumbling, and basic services like waste disposal simply didn’t exist.

“Wait,” I interrupted Lord Taxman’s droning report. “What happened to the sewage systems? I know they existed, at least basic medieval-style waste management.”

Sir Formalitee adjusted his spectacles nervously.

“The infrastructure has… deteriorated significantly over the centuries, my lord. Maintenance was deemed a low priority during your absence. The noble districts maintained their private facilities, but the common areas’ systems have collapsed or been repurposed. ”

“Repurposed?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Several of the main drainage tunnels were converted to storage by various guilds and factions,” he explained delicately. “Others simply… filled up and were never cleared.”

“So now they just dump it wherever?”

“There are designated areas,” he said weakly.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sesame, I need civil engineering textbooks. Focus on sanitation, water purification, and basic urban planning. Again, translated and appropriate for the local technology.”

[Processing request. Would you like these materials to include implementation guides for low-technology environments?]

“Yes, perfect.”

Sir Formalitee looked both terrified and fascinated. “My lord, are you suggesting we… rebuild the entire city’s infrastructure?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. We’re not starting from scratch; we’re restoring what should have been maintained all along. Look, you can’t have a functioning society where people are literally living in their own filth. It’s not just gross, it’s a public health disaster.”

“But the costs would be astronomical,” Lord Taxman protested, his tiny glasses sliding down his nose in agitation. “The treasury cannot possibly?—”

“The treasury is getting restocked as we speak,” I cut him off.

“I’ve been converting those piles of gold and jewels in the vault into something actually useful.

And speaking of useful, I want a complete census of skills among the camp population.

We need to identify builders, craftspeople, anyone with relevant experience. ”

“A census of… skills?” Lord Taxman looked bewildered.

“Yes, skills. Abilities. Things people know how to do. I refuse to believe that in a population of almost forty thousand, we don’t have people who can learn to build a decent sewage system.”

The department heads exchanged glances, clearly struggling with this revolutionary concept.

“My lord,” Magister Wiggles ventured, his excitement overcoming his confusion, “are you proposing to teach the common classes specialized knowledge? To elevate them to… builders and craftsmen?”

“Why not? They’re the ones who’ll be living in these neighborhoods. They should have a stake in building them.”

The idea of empowering the common citizens seemed to genuinely shock some of the department heads. Lord Taxman looked like he might faint, while General Smashington’s expression was unreadable. But Mistress Pokey and Magister Wiggles appeared thoughtful, perhaps even supportive.

“One more thing,” I said, leaning forward. “The nobles. I’ve noticed they’re getting… restless.”

Lady Shadowfax’s form solidified slightly. “Indeed, my lord. They are most disturbed by recent developments. Several houses have begun stockpiling resources, while others speak openly of the ‘disturbing changes’ in your governance.”

“Let me guess—they don’t like that I’m feeding people who aren’t them.”

“Precisely, my lord. The noble houses have traditionally enjoyed exclusive access to premium resources. Your redirection of these resources to the common classes represents a significant disruption to the established order.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. “Are they planning anything stupid?”

Lady Shadowfax hesitated, her shadowy form flickering slightly. “There have been… discussions. Nothing concrete yet, but certain houses are exploring options to, as they put it, ‘restore traditional governance.’”

“Meaning they want the old Lucien back. The one who let them do whatever they wanted while everyone else starved.”

“Essentially, yes.”

I glanced at Azrael, who had been standing silently behind my chair throughout the meeting. His expression was perfectly composed, but there was a dangerous gleam in his crimson eyes that suggested he had very specific ideas about how to handle noble dissent.

“Keep me informed,” I told Lady Shadowfax. “If they move beyond talk to action, I want to know immediately.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The meeting concluded with assignments for each department: Mistress Pokey would develop agricultural improvement plans; Duke Splashypants would organize marsh harvesting teams; Magister Wiggles would research magical enhancements for infrastructure; General Smashington would secure the perimeter against forest threats, and Sir Formalitee would begin organizing the skills census.

As the department heads filed out, I noticed they were still stealing glances at my “void garments.” But their expressions had shifted from shock to something closer to thoughtful consideration. Change was contagious, apparently.

“That went better than I expected,” I said to Azrael as we left the meeting room. “No one actually fainted when they saw me in my new clothes.”

“Lord Taxman came quite close, my lord,” Azrael observed dryly.

“True. But I think Magister Wiggles might start a void fashion trend. Did you see how excited he got about the reference books?”

“Indeed. The magister has always been… enthusiastic about new knowledge.”

We were heading toward the eastern courtyard where Mr. Snuggles waited to take us to the camp when a blue portal suddenly opened in the corridor before us. Several large crates emerged, hovering in the air before settling gently to the floor.

[Your requested educational materials have arrived, Lord Lucien,] Sesame’s voice announced from the still-hovering interface window. [The agricultural texts are in the green crates, civil engineering in the blue, and the hydroponics starter kits in the red.]

“Perfect timing,” I said, examining the nearest crate. It was filled with books whose titles had been translated into the local language, with detailed illustrations visible on the covers. “Have these delivered to the appropriate department heads right away.”

A group of servants materialized almost instantly—Azrael must have summoned them with some subtle signal—and began moving the crates.

“My lord,” Azrael said carefully, “these texts contain knowledge from the void realm. Are you certain it is wise to distribute such… revolutionary concepts so freely?”

“That’s exactly why I’m distributing them.

This place needs a revolution in how it’s run.

” I picked up one of the books, which appeared to be about modern sanitation systems, complete with diagrams of plumbing and water treatment facilities.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m handing out nuclear launch codes.

It’s just basic infrastructure stuff that should have existed here centuries ago. ”

Azrael didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue further. We continued to the courtyard, where Mr. Snuggles was waiting in his full-sized form. The dragon lowered his head as we approached, his good eye examining my new attire with what seemed like approval.

“At least someone appreciates fashion evolution,” I muttered, patting his massive snout before climbing onto his back.

Azrael mounted behind me, maintaining a slightly greater distance than usual.

I could still feel his gaze on me, particularly when I stretched to adjust my position.

The flight to the camp was brief but gave me time to reflect on the meeting.

The challenges were enormous—a depleted agricultural system, nonexistent infrastructure, mysterious forest threats, and potentially rebellious nobles.

But for the first time, I felt like I had a plan, or at least the beginnings of one.