TDotDLT

Long chapter up ahead in which Thirry makes his return to consciousness! :P

---

The New Overlord

or

I've Been Stabbed in the Liver and You Want Me to Do What?!

Darkness...

It surrounds me, all-encompassing, eternal in its blackness.

I've been swallowed whole by the maw of infinite night, trapped in this world devoid of light...

...and that sounded incredibly lame. Good thing I'm not a poet. The world would probably implode if I was.

At least it's a comfortable darkness, this time around. It's almost as if I could just open my eyes and...

Oh.

Blink.

I guess this means I'm still alive.

…

That's nice.

"I see that you are finally awake."

I turn my head left and see Overlord Vynd at my bedside, a crystal goblet of deep red liquid in his left hand. He sips at it slowly, savoring the flavor as he watches me from beneath heavily-lidded eyes.

"Overlo—"

"Call me Grandfather. Formalities are unnecessary when we are alone."

So you say, yet "Grandfather" is still formal, and it feels so strange to address you as anything other than Overlord Vynd. After all, you are hardly the grandfatherly type; I've always pinned you down as more of the evil uncle variety than diabolical grandfather. I still have a hard time believing I'm your direct descendant.

But you'll never know this because I'll never actually tell you. Instead, I will acknowledge you with "Grandfather" like you requested and leave it at that.

"How are you feeling?"

And it seems you've construed my delay in response to exhaustion (which is partially true – I am feeling a bit sleepy). Might as well play along.

"Tired," I mutter, and close my eyes for good effect.

"That is to be expected. You lost a lot of blood," you reply conversationally.

I hear some liquid flowing and open my eyes to see you pouring more of that red fluid (I hope it's wine... probably isn't) into the goblet. I can't help but wonder where your cane is – probably propped up nearby in a spot I can't see. Stupid pillow.

In any case, you offer me the goblet and I push myself up, careful not to annoy my aching liver. I bring the cup up to drink, but I can't keep my nose from wrinkling in distaste. I never understood how you could enjoy drinking blood, even if you are half-vampire. It's all coppery and viscous and eurgh...

"It will help you recover faster."

"I am aware of that." I still don't like it.

I choke it down anyway and try not to gag it all back up. Once it settles in my stomach, I feel much better, though. Warm and drowsy.

"Well, then, now that you are awake and comfortable, mind enlightening me as to how you got yourself stabbed?"

"I would have thought that Gramma informed you of such."

You lean back in your chair as if it were a throne and clasp your hands beneath your chin. You smirk, and your goatee perfectly accentuates the curve of your mouth. You look so effortlessly diabolical, and I envy you. I suppose you know this seeing as how your smirk grows even wider.

"Thirry, Thirry, Thirry," you say as you shake your head. If calling you Grandfather felt strange, your calling me Thirry feels even stranger. "Do you not recall the second rule of being a successful Evil Overlord: always confirm the information you receive from others? It is a direct corollary to Rule Number One: never trust anyone personally."

"Not even your lover?"

"Especially not your lover." Oh joy. Finger wag. I am not a disobedient puppy.

"Now, then, your account. What were you doing before you were rudely attacked?"

Oh, you'll love this. "Picking flowers. Roses, to be precise."

Hm. I've never realized you could raise your eyebrows so high. I wonder if I could do it to...

"Picking roses." My, my, you sound incredulous. Did Gramma neglect to mention that particular detail? "Why?"

"For a curse."

You look relieved. I wonder why. It isn't easy to appear diabolical while picking pretty flowers (though I apparently managed to do so).

"So, you were picking flowers. What then?"

Some crazy chick with a hugeass sword came out of nowhere and stabbed me in my poor liver – what do you think happened? Of course, I phrase this a bit more delicately into, "A heroine came out of nowhere and stabbed me before I could get a word in edgewise. Her form was disgraceful."

You chuckle. "I shall have to take your word on her form. Did she say anything before she stabbed you."

"She only shouted 'I have you now, you dastardly Dark Lord!' and then stabbed. No heroic speech beforehand. No declaration of how the world would be better off without me. Just a sloppy, wild stab in the liver. Honestly, it was embarrassing."

"Indeed. How uncouth of her to ignore basic etiquette."

I didn't mean for her. Oh, never mind... "How uncouth, indeed."

...

Why are you still staring at me? I agreed with you. What else do you want?

…

If you are trying to psyche me out, it won't work.

…

If this is a staring contest, I will win it.

Blink.

Damn it!

…

……

...

Do I have something on my face?

…

………

…

Would you say something, already? No? Fine. I'll say something. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"

"Nothing of great import," you say as you rise from the high-backed chair. "Only that you will be expected to attend the High Council session in one week's time."

What?! Oh, no you don't. You're not leaving without an explanation!

"I must have misheard you, Grandfather. Surely you did not say 'High Council?'"

"Oh, no. You heard me correctly. You will be expected to attend the High Council session in one week's time."

I've been stabbed in the liver and you want me to do what?! Are you trying to make a fool of me (probably...)? Excuses, excuses... Need a good excuse... Ah-ha!

"But I am merely a Dark Lord."

"Ah, it slipped my mind. You were unconscious; of course you would not be aware of it..."

Of. What?

"Congratulations, Thirry. You are the new Overlord of the Eastern Realms."

…

WHAT THE HELL?!

My becoming an Overlord was "nothing of great import?!" DIE!

Deep breath. Calm yourself, Thirry. Now, impassively, "But I did not depose Overlord Ard'aam."

"Oh, but you did." What I wouldn't give to wipe that smug smirk off your face... "Four days ago, the late Scourge of Bathwaters staged a coup in this very suite. The coup failed, in part due to your blinding the members of the coup, which caused Ard'aam to stumble to his demise over the balcony railing."

…

So it wasn't a dream... Crap. Now why are you grinning? Diabolical laugh countdown in thr—

"Serena and I have sent the majority of your things ahead in anticipation of your ascension."

Gramma, you're in on this too?

"And who will succeed me as Dark Lord of Highcliffe?"

"Morgen, but only in action. The title will remain yours." I thought as much.

"Is there anything else you wish to tell me?" Such as any nasty surprises involved in becoming an Evil Overlord.

"Nothing."

"Very well, then. Begone." And stop grinning. It's creepy.

"As you wish," you say as you turn on your heel, long black cape swishing about you dramatically as you stride out of my bedroom. And good riddance.

Now– Wait...

Where are all my amulets?!

Hi! I love reading this, I really do. Each part makes me laugh, right now I am typing with a grin on my face. Great work!

Blink.

It sounded a bit odd having this action along with his thoughts, maybe in italics would work to show it was an action? It only crops up a couple of times so it's not that important but I think it might work better like this.

I turn my head left and see Overlord Vynd at my bedside, a crystal goblet of deep red liquid in his left hand. He sips at it slowly, savoring the flavor as he watches me from beneath heavily-lidded eyes.

I found it great being addressed as Overlord Vynd throughout this piece, its a strange style that I haven't read in this way before but I think it turned out great This part though you are referring to 'he', I think it would be better to stay consistent so maybe changing it all to 'you'.

I mutter, and close my eyes for good effect.

I'd maybe change 'and close' to 'closing my eyes'. It's not necessary though, just down to preference

Once it settles in my stomach, I feel much better, though.

I think you could maybe add a bit here, perhaps 'I do start to feel much better' instead of just 'I feel much better'.

"I would have thought that Gramma informed you of such."

At first, I really did not get who 'Gramma' was- it could just be me though I think you could make it resemble 'Grandma' a bit more perhaps to make the connection easier- perhaps by just changing 'Gramma' to 'Granma' or something like that.

I wonder if I could do it to...

I think 'to' should be 'too' here.

Did she say anything before she stabbed you."

I think the full stop should be a question mark instead here.

Gramma, you're in on this too?

It confused me a little that he then started using 'you' to refer to someone else, I'd maybe have it just as 'Gramma's in on this too?' or something like that so it is only Overlord Vynn that is 'you'.

Overall: I think you really pulled off using this writing style, I'm still loving this story!

Overall I can't see much that could be changed, the only couple of things that I noticed were that I think there could be a bit more description on how Overlord Vynn talks and his movements. As we are seeing everything through Thirilights eyes, I think it would be good to take more note on what Vynn is doing. Like when he is remembering that Thirilight does not know about his new title, I think it would be good to describe what he is doing and his expression

Thirilight is a brilliant character and it's great to read things from his perspective, my nitpicks are getting shorter and shorter! I love how you have kept up the humour, this is really brilliant and I truly look forward to reading more All my comments are just suggestions as always and I hope I've helped despite not being able to pick out much! *star*

I enjoyed writing this chapter. It still needs a bit of refining (and a bit of a trim), though. :P

---

To: King Carl of Caeldon

My liege,

As of yesterday, a caravan of unknown origins began crossing the Strait of Zarabim. Should they maintain their present course and speed, they will be arriving within Caeldon's borders in three days.

As of one hour ago, I have dispatched a scouting party to determine the caravan's affiliation and intent. Expect another report from me soon.

- Sir Engard

-=-=-=-

To: King Carl of Caeldon

My liege,

Reports from the scouts indicate that the caravan is unmanned and directed by magical means. Each carriage-container is of substantial size and is propelled by magic. It is speculated that the contents of each carriage-container are quite hazardous as the defensive spells protecting them are quite formidable.

Requesting permission to detain several of these carriage-containers.

- Sir Engard

-=-=-=-

To: Sir Engard, Captain of the Border Guard

This news is most disturbing. Permission granted, but caution is heavily advised. Keep casualties to a minimum.

- King Carl

-=-=-=-

To: King Carl of Caeldon

My liege,

I have both unfortunate and perplexing news to report.

While we managed to detain three container-carriages with negligible damage to the vehicles, in the process of opening these vehicles, seven lives were tragically lost to the defensive charms in place on each of the carriage-containers. I have arranged for the notification and return of their personal effects to their families.

Fortunately for the kingdom, the contents of the carriage-containers appear to be fully harmless. In all three containers, the only cargo was socks. As far as our senior mage can tell, these socks are enchanted merely to keep one's feet dry. As to why such a heavily defended caravan would be delivering a large quantity of socks in the first place, we have found no clues.

Our senior mage seems convinced that this most unusual caravan is an indication of a shift of power within the High Council of Villainy. He says to expect an new Overlord to take up residence in Blodsun within the month.

- Sir Engard

-=-=-=-

To: Sir Engard, Captain of the Border Guard

The deaths of those seven are unfortunate, indeed, and Caeldon mourns their passing. However, their noble sacrifices may need not have been in vain. Roughly how many pairs of enchanted socks are contained within the carriage-containers?

Also, the High Council of Heroes confirms a shift in power within the High Council of Villainy, but remain unaware of the identity of the newest member. Who is this senior mage, how did he come by such information, and would he be able to acquire more?

- King Carl

-=-=-=-

To: King Carl of Caeldon

My liege,

We currently are in possession of enough socks to supply the entire army.

Also, sir, the mage is none other than Sir Mortimer of Sunvayle. Due to his parentage, it appears he has connections among several high-ranking members within the Lower Council of Villainy. He assures me that he will be able to acquire any needed information, should you request it.

As to his loyalty, I have no reason to question it.

- Sir Engard

-=-=-=-

To: Distarr Butte, Chief Requisitions Officer

The Zarabim Strait border outpost has recently come into possession of a large quantity of socks. By order of King Carl, a caravan is to be sent to retrieve these socks for future distribution among the appropriate members of the Caeldon army.

-=-=-=-

To: Sir Engard, Captain of the Border Guard

A requisitions officer will be arriving soon to retrieve this most unusual cargo. I have been assured that the socks will be put to good use outfitting the infantry.

You are to dispatch Sir Mortimer immediately and provide him with whatever resources he requires. Replacements for him and the casualties have been dispatched and should arrive at the outpost within the week.

- King Carl

Hi! As always, this part was really funny Although you said it needed a bit of a trim I can't really see much that could be perfected! I'll try and be thorough though

in the process of opening these vehicles, seven lives were tragically lost to the defensive charms in place on each of the carriage-containers.

I'm not sure if you need 'on each of the carriage-containers' as it is already clear what you are talking about, it might be better to end the sentence at 'place'.

the contents of the carriage-containers appear to be fully harmless.

I'm not sure about 'fully harmless', maybe something like 'completely harmless' would fit better?

He says to expect an new Overlord

'an' should be 'a' here

Also, the High Council of Heroes confirms a shift in power within the High Council of Villainy, but remain unaware of the identity of the newest member. Who is this senior mage, how did he come by such information, and would he be able to acquire more?

The king jumps from talking about the new member in the High Council of Villainy to talking about the mage, I'd maybe add a bit in to introduce the topic of the senior mage- perhaps something like 'On another matter,' or perhaps adding something on the end of 'mage' like 'that you speak of' so that it is clear he is referring back to who was previously mentioned.

As to his loyalty, I have no reason to question it.

The king didn't mention his loyalty before, so it seemed a bit odd to me here to be mentioning it. I'd maybe include in the Kings letter something about asking if he could be trusted or change this a bit so it seems less like a response, perhaps something giving more of a report on how helpful he has been so far?

Overall: Like I said, barely anything I could spot at all! I am very intrigued by the introduction of these socks and look forward to hearing more on how this ties into the story I think you managed showing the correspondence between the king and the Captain of the border guard well and kept the conversation between them interesting to the reader

I don't think I can really see anything at all overall that I would change despite my pickiness It's quite short and as it is in letter form you don't really need any imagery, of course I missed Thirilight and his hilarious perspective, but I think this part works Good job!

Sorry it took me so long to review, I completely forgot could you PM me when you post the next piece? I really enjoy reading this story, my comments are just suggestions and I look forward to the next part! *star*

The socks play a pretty important role fairly soon. :3

Thanks for the suggestions and the critique. *sends love* I'll PM you if I remember to. x_X

Ok, first thing: I'm confused on the whole point in the beginning. It doesn't make sense. My thought about it is that the character's mind is wandering around a lot. Here are a few things about the first part that could change:

Oh, dear. My poor liver.

I have a problem with this. It seems a little too weird. Who would say "Oh dear. My poor liver." I would suggest changing it.

Psh. Not yet I'm not.

Psh is not a word, it is just a written form of a sound you make when you are in disbelief.

Ok, on to the second part.

From behind a clump of bushes, a shadowy figure watched the terrible scene unfold. They watched as Thirilight, pierced through the abdomen by the loud girl's magicked blade, fell limply to the forest floor and did not rise. They watched as the little girl proclaimed her victory and kicked Thirilight's unmoving body. They watched as the girl's companion, unsatisfied with the gut wound, poised his sword above Thirilight's heart.

You called the shadowy figure in the bushes they when it is singular. I would suggest changing it to 'it'. I would understand if your shadowy figure is not one thing, but we don't know that yet, so tell us later. Lastly, don't use it too much, overused words get boring.

Now for third and last part.

A little old lady, gray-haired and wizened, fought through a clump of bushes, halting, speechless, at the sight of the dead villain.

This sounds strange to me consider changing it something else like: "A little gray-haired, wizened, old lady fought through a clump of bushes. She halted, speechless at the sight of the dead villian." or something like that.

"Yon vile villain lies vanquished and will trouble you no further!" I proclaim, grandly, certain that the kind old soul will weep in gratitude and gladness.

I am not sure what to think of the underlined part. It seems weird, I doubt anyone would say anything like that and I'm not sure many people will understand it. The italisized part can bebe changed to: "I grandly proclaimed, certain . . .(the rest can stay the same)"

Once at the dead villain's side, she gently cradles his head in her arms and rocks back and forth, moaning and weeping.

Try: She gently cradled the villain's head in her arms as she laid at his side, weeping and moaning. " The rocking back in forth is unessential.

Shortly thereafter, a tree, ancient and gnarled, came toppling down upon my spineless companion.

Thereafter? *cocks eye* Uh-uh. Do not put that in there. Also get rid of Shortly before it.

Ok, now for comments. It is a nice story, but it is hard to understand it if you write it in first person present tense. Try changing it to past tense. Trust me it will make the story twice as interesting and easier to understand.

Ignore the accent. >.> It's very rough and not pretty. Well, basically this entire chapter is pretty rough, so critique away.

Split into two parts because it wound up being 9 pages long. XD

-=-=-=-

Salth did not like the place. The room was dingy, vaporous smoke and piss permeating the air. The rushes on the old board floor were dirty and stank of vomit, and the bar sagged, coated in splotches of unmentionable grime. The clientèle was questionable – scarred brutes and sullen women, the latter clad in clothing that left little to the imagination – but worst of all were the lecherous gazes directed towards Laurelie and Sangra, especially from the posse of thugs lounging at the neighboring table.

All this would have been tolerable if one of the thugs had not grabbed Laurelie's arm as she passed by their table on her way back from the outhouse.

Before the man could utter a word, Sangra was out of her seat and at Laurelie's side, the tip of her sword resting casually against the man's collarbone. "Let her go."

The room fell deathly silent as everyone turned to watch the scene unfold. The man seemed unperturbed, however, and knocked away her sword with a dagger of his own.

"Yew doan scare me, girly," he said. "'N why shud I?"

The man's companions slowly stood, their hands hovering over their respective weapons. Next to Salth, Hawk tensed, his hand inching towards the dagger concealed in his boot.

"Because you have no right to hold her." Sangra placed herself as in between the man and Laurelie as possible, and Laurelie gratefully hid behind the swordswoman's bulkier frame. Salth and Hawk were standing now, Hawk with his dagger and Salth with his battleaxe ready to throw.

"Sez who? Yew?" The man cackled, his grip on Laurelie's arm unyielding, the dagger in his hand poised to strike or defend. His cronies cackled along obediently, though none moved their eyes away from Sangra, Salth, or Hawk.

"Yes. And if you have a problem with that, so help me, I'll make you see the light by the Power of Love!"

The man and his cronies were struck into silence, a range of peculiar expressions crossing their faces. Sangra watched them smugly, confident of her victory, until another voice intruded.

"She means that she'll beat you into a pulp if you don't go along with her."

As the light of revelation washed over the men's countenances, Sangra turned to face the intruder and amended, "With the Power of Love!"

"You're still beating them into a pulp," said the man in the doorway. He was tall and darker-skinned, his long black hair neatly tied back with a beaded thong.

Sangra sputtered in fury before recovering her control over speech. "Oh, shut up, Mortimer! Nobody asked you. And I'd like to see you do better!"

"As you wish." Mortimer strode over to the table and made eye contact with the larger man. "Let her go, Beryn. She's with me."

"Sorry 'bout that, Mort. Din know she was wiv yew," Beryn said as he released Laurelie's arm.

"No harm done. Right, Laurelie?"

"R-r-right," said Laurelie from behind Sangra.

Sangra growled and stormed from the room, kicking aside any rickety chairs or hapless onlookers in her way. With her exit, everyone relaxed, all parties put away their weapons, and the usual chatter picked up again, quickly rising to its usual intensity.

After chatting with Beryn and his pals for a moment, Mortimer guided a clinging Laurelie back to where Hawk and Salth sat, polishing off a side of roast beef. Once Laurelie, still clinging to Mortimer's right arm, and Mortimer had seated themselves, Salth began asking questions.

"How do you know those people?"

"They were my playmates, when we were children."

"And what line of work are they in now?"

"Thugs for hire," Mortimer said blandly, as if commenting on the weather. Salth blanched and Laurelie cringed, clinging even more tightly to Mortimer's arm. Hawk sat quietly, peaceably munching on a slice of stringy meat.

Salth's voice dipped dangerously low. "And you still associate with such scum?!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because, despite their occupation and appearance, they are good people."

"If they're such good people, why don't they find honest work?"

"Men like them?" Mortimer gestured towards Beryn's table with his free hand. "Look at them. Even if they were to try and find clean, honest work, no one would hire them."

Salth barely glanced up at them. "They could have gone into soldiery, or adventuring. Something."

"What's to say they haven't tried?" Mortimer sighed. "Not everyone is cut out to be a hero."

Before Salth could speak again, Hawk said, "Your friend is late, Mortimer."

Mortimer and Salth both looked at the timekeeper hanging over the bar. "You're right," said Mortimer. "It's not like him to be so."

"Maybe he got caught in traffic?" Laurelie, her voice muffled by Mortimer's arm, suggested.

"Perhaps. I hope whatever delayed him isn't too troublesome..."

-=-=-=-

"Merchant."

Now, really, Thirry, that's so obvious. Besides, we're looking for personality traits: is he generous or greedy, honest or manipulative, liable to stab you in the back or not stab you at all?

"And I fail to see why I have to do it when you are perfectly capable."

I may not always be by your side, like when you got stabbed in the liver.

"I wasn't expecting to be stabbed while picking flowers."

Regardless, you have to be able to do it on your own.

"And what exactly is 'it?' You never really explained it to me."

It's called profiling, and it is necessary for your survival, especially now that you are an Evil Overlord. You have to be able to tell at a glance whether or not someone is plotting to kill you.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

I've already told you. -sigh- You look at a person – what they're wearing, their posture, their expression, how they interact with others, etc. – and then you associate personality traits based on what you've observed.

"That doesn't sound very reliable or accurate."

It is more accurate than you believe. There are certain cues that all people subconsciously give off when in a particular frame of mind. Notice these cues, and you'll have a glimpse of who they truly are. How else do you think heroes are able to identify a villain on sight? Don't look around like that! It'll make you look suspicious.

"You just told me that a hero could identify me by sight even though I'm not dressed like one! How can I not look around?!"

They'll only pick up on it if you start acting like a villain. If it makes you feel better, even if they do get a villain vibe from you, the fact that you're wielding the Sword of Baellyne would mark you as a jaded hero. We Artifacts of Baellyn have only ever served heroes, you know.

"Which makes me wonder why you're serving me."

Because I see in you the potential to become a hero, and I know you see it too. I'm going to ignore that snort. Now, then, back to profiling.

"How am I supposed to identify cues?"

Observation.

"And then how am I supposed to know what the cues mean?"

Experience. Don't you dare sigh at me, Thirry! Since you lack the instinct for profiling, you're going to have to learn how to do it. And that means lots and lots of practice. Now, back to the merchant, what can you tell me about him?

"Well, he was dressed expensively, and his fingers were dripping with jewels, so he must be extremely rich. He was also quite corpulent, so he eats a lot. His smile was open, and he treated all his customers fairly, so I would say he is honest."

Good, good. Now how about tha– Thirry! To the right! Duck!

"Great! Another heroine."

-=-=-=-

Sangra was furious. Who did Mortimer think he was? Just because he had a mandate from the king did not give him the right to interfere with her business! She had everything under control before he came along and made a fool of her in front of everyone.

We'll see how hard he laughs when he realizes that we've left him for someone else!

With that thought in mind, Sangra stormed down the alley and onto Ghat Street, scanning the crowds for someone suitable to partner with. Her gaze was drawn to a brown-haired man, paler than most, and slightly taller than average. He was draped in a dark green cloak which, despite being well-traveled, retained the cut of quality cloth, and from his belt hung an elegant sword with gold filigreed hilt and a ruby the size of a chicken's egg set inside the pommel.

He appeared to be talking to thin air, and Sangra wondered for a moment if he was a master of the winds, but his aura was not the one characteristic of wind masters. The second possibility that crossed her mind, that he was talking to himself, was not at all appealing; she wasn't desperate enough to join swords with a lunatic just yet.

Right as she was about to dismiss the man as a candidate, it hit her – he wasn't talking to himself; he was talking to the sword. With the sword if the pauses in between his speech indicated anything. Sangra reassessed the man – wealthy, possessed of a grand destiny (for heroes with magical swords always are), and handsome – and came to a swift conclusion.

He was perfect.

As Sangra made her way towards the man, she noticed that he was headed for that dreadful inn Mortimer had insisted on lodging at. A wicked grin twisted Sangra's mouth as she realized that the man must be none other than Mortimer's friend. She could hardly wait to see her former companion's face when he realized that she had cast him off for his dearest pal.

Just as she was about to approach, the man froze, his head turning every which way, his pale eyes darting about in alarm. Sangra froze at the sight of those eyes. She had seen them once before, and they still haunted her nightmares. They were the eyes of the man who had murdered her family and razed her home village so many years ago – they were the eyes of Overlord Vynd.

Sangra quickly concealed herself in shadow, drawing the shade about her like a cloak. Her mind reeled, panic threatening to overtake her sanity. What was the Overlord doing here?! She wasn't strong enough to fight him yet! Could it be that Mortimer was in league with the side of evil?!

Sangra forcibly shook herself from that train of thought. Though many things, a traitor was something Sir Mortimer definitely was not. As she calmed herself with the breathing techniques taught to her by Master Eshter, she realized that the man with the Overlord's eyes was far too young to be the Overlord himself. Though hair could be dyed and stature disguised, age was one thing difficult to conceal to as trained an eye as hers.

In full control of her faculties now, Sangra concluded that the man must be the offspring of Overlord Vynd, and she knew of only two – the Dark Lord Thirilight of Highcliffe and the dragonkin Caurien Rayath. She had heard tell that the Dark Lord took after Serena Stormslayer in appearance, and thus concluded that the man could be none other than the Dread Dragon Caurien, bane of a thousand knights.

Sangra felt a slight twinge of fear in the pit of her stomach, but she brushed it aside – Caurien was nearing the inn where her companions sat waiting, blithely unaware of the danger headed towards them. Though she may wish many ill things upon Mortimer, being slaughtered at the hands of one of Overlord Vynd's brood was not a fate she wished upon anyone, and it was not a fate her other three companions deserved, least of all sweet Laurelie. Besides, if she couldn't face down and defeat his son, how would Sangra be able to face down and defeat the Overlord himself?

Centered, Sangra stalked Caurien from a distance, close enough to reach him quickly and strike, but far enough away to escape his notice. As he turned onto a side road leading straight to the inn, she prayed, and then she struck.

Hello ! I'm really glad you posted the next chapter, it doesn't seem so rough to me!

Hawk with his dagger and Salth with his battleaxe ready to throw

I'm not sure about 'ready to throw' as you are talking about the battleaxe, maybe 'ready to be thrown'?

Sangra turned to the face the intruder

You don't need 'the' before 'face'.

Beryn said after he released Laurelie's arm.

It's up to you, but so you are not skipping ahead of the action maybe saying that he said this releasing her arm (so at the same time) would be better?

the usual chatter picked up again, quickly rising to its usual intensity.

I'd maybe change one of the 'usual' here just so you are not repeating it, maybe one could be 'customary' or something like that

After chatting with Beryn and his pals for a moment, Mortimer guided a clinging Laurelie back to where Hawk and Salth sat, polishing off a side of roast beef. Once Laurelie, still clinging to Mortimer's right arm, and Mortimer had seated themselves, Salth began asking questions.

Not much to be improved here, I just thought you could change one of the 'clinging's Maybe the first one could be changed to give more description on Laurelie? Like saying she was 'wide eyed' or 'shaking' or something like that.

in the back or not stab you at all?[/s]

Little mistake with the [/s]

"And I fail to see why I have to do it when you are perfectly capable."

This shouldn't be in italics and I'm not sure about 'And' at the beginning. I don't really see what it is being added on to, maybe the sentence would work better without it.

Good, good. Now how about tha– Thirry! To the right! Duck!

"Great! Another heroine."

I'm not sure about Thirilight's response as when you show the action of Sangra it comes across as a quick attack that would take him by surprise and his response does not sound that shocked by it. The sword also sounds quite panicked, so maybe something that would agree with that would be more appropriate.

He appeared to be talking to thin air, and Sangra wondered if he was a master of the winds, but his aura was not the one characteristic of wind masters.

Only a suggestion but maybe something like 'for a moment' after 'Sangra wondered' would be good as you then show that she reasoned it was not possible.

she realized that the man must be none other than Mortimer's friend. She could hardly wait to see her former companion's face when he realized that she had cast him off for his dearest friend.

I'd maybe change 'friend' so you are not ending both sentences with it, maybe 'companion' or 'chum' or anything like that would work well instead

Overall: As always, I can't pick much out! I will try and give more over all comments though

I think in general imagery could be improved upon a bit, you do well in introducing the scene and Mortimer but a bit more description on Sangra might be nice as she features quite a lot in it. You could always add this in later though in how Thirilight sees her I don't think you need anything really on Salth or Hawk as they don't have much of a role though. I think you could add more to their expressions during the argument and how they are speaking. For instance, when Sangra first leaps up does she speak through gritted teeth? How does she glare at the man? Also when Mortimer is answering Salth's questions, describing how he replies and what his voice sounds like might be good. It might also be more effective to show how the lechery men appear to emphasise how intimidating they are. You could either do so when Mortimer is indicating them or when you first mention them.

I'm not really sure about introducing the story with Salth as he doesn't really feature much. When you start by saying 'Salth did not like the place.' it seemed to me like he would be one of the main characters in the piece but he isn't, maybe you could start with Sangra instead or else give him more of a role?

I loved the conversation between Thirilight and the sword The only part about that that I think could have more added to would be when the sword mentions the potential for being a hero. Thirilight doesn't really react to this and I think it would be good to show something from him to give the reader an insight into how he feels about this. Even if it is just a quick comment about him being not sure and saying they would discuss it later or brushing it aside, I think it would be good to have something on it.

I'm still thoroughly enjoying this story! I look forward to reading more and finding out about how the socks tie in with it all I can see a bit more of a plot developing through the hint of Thriilight being a possible hero, I'm interested to see how you will expand upon it in later parts Brilliant work as always! All my comments are just suggestions, hope I've helped! *Star*

And I just realized I forgot to post part two... XP Well, here it is.

---

The door of the inn swung open, and silhouetted in its frame was a man carrying a familiar figure. Salth stood, Hawk a bare instant behind him, and ran to the door to tend to the unconscious Sangra. Laurelie and Mortimer followed slowly.

"What happened?" the knight asked, examining Sangra for wounds. Fortunately, the worst injury was a lump on the back of her head. It bled slightly and was quite swollen, and Salth concluded that this was the source of Sangra's lack of consciousness, but it was not severe. She would awaken soon, though Salth did not envy her the headache.

The man shook his head irritably before shoving Sangra's sword into Hawk's hands. "I was walking along peacefully, coming to meet a friend in this here inn, when this woman charged me from behind, waving her sword, all the while screaming something about defeating my father, dispensing due justice, and a coriander wraith."

"A what?" Salth looked up sharply at this, taking stock of the man. He was taller than Salth with a slight build and delicate features. A shallow cut over his left brow still bled slightly, and he looked harried but otherwise unharmed.

"A coriander wraith," the man repeated, "though I may have misheard. I was a bit more focused on not dying at the time."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Mortimer laughed before giving the man Sangra had attacked a bear hug.

The other man returned it warmly, a grin on his face. "Mortimer," he said, "it's been a while!"

"That it has, Thirry." Mortimer loosened his grip on his friend before turning to face Salth and the others. His right hand drifted down Thirry's back before a quick elbow in his ribs, courtesy of his friend, persuaded the wandering appendage back up. Mortimer settled his hand upon Thirry's near shoulder.

"Is he your friend?" asked Hawk. Salth watched as the older man assessed the newcomer.

"He is. Everyone, this is Thirry Ardyer." To Thirry, Mortimer said, "Let me introduce you to my companions: the lovely lady on the right is Laurelie, a medic fresh from Vernum; the man to her left is Hawk, the finest ranger I have ever had the pleasure of working with; the man carrying your attacker is Sir Salth of Castle Cove; and last, but not least, the lady upon the Sir's shoulder is Sangra, adventurer and Champion of Justice, or so she says."

As they were introduced, Laurelie curtsied, Hawk gave a full bow from the waist, and Salth gave a curt nod while Sangra's head lolled on her shoulders.

Shifting the woman into a more comfortable position, Salth headed towards the staircase in the back of the common room, aware that the room was completely quiet and that all eyes were on his party for the second time that day. "I'll be bringing Sangra to her room."

"I'll come with you," said Laurelie, and she trotted to catch up.

As he and Laurelie ascended the stair, from behind him, Salth heard Thirry say, "I hope I didn't hit her too hard."

Once Sangra had been laid in bed and a cold compress fetched to soothe the sizable lump at the base of her skull, Salth returned downstairs and reclaimed his spot at the table where Mortimer and Hawk were seated. Thirry was talking to Beryn and his gang, much to Salth's chagrin. Laurelie came down a few minutes later and took her seat to the left of Mortimer.

Thirry glanced up from his conversation with Beryn and, noticing that everyone else was waiting for him, said a quick goodbye to the scarred brute before coming over and taking a seat to Mortimer's right.

Everyone sat at the table in silence, looking at one another. Thirry in particular seemed quite uncomfortable with his slight fidgeting and frequent glances over his shoulder. Salth couldn't blame the man – after all, he was among unfamiliar people, and he had just been attacked. It came as no surprise to the knight that it was Thirry who broke the silence.

"So, Mortimer," he began, looking at his friend, "why did you call me here?"

"We need your help," Mortimer said, inclining his head towards the rest of the table.

"With what?"

"We have reason to believe that a new Overlord has risen to power in the Eastern Realms," replied Salth.

"And you were hoping I could tell you who." Thirry sighed and glared at Mortimer. "Why couldn't you have asked me in a letter?" Salth wondered the same.

"Letters can be intercepted," Mortimer said, "and, besides, it's been a long time since we got a chance to see each other."

"Yes, but a letter would have been so much more convenient, especially since I'm in the middle of moving." Thirry rested his head in a cupped hand, his eyes narrowed and mouth frowning.

"You're moving?" Mortimer looked surprised.

"Yes. Gramma said it's about time I got a place of my own, so she went out and found one for me."

"In any case," Salth said, "you are here, so if you would answer the original question, please."

Thirry looked at Salth. "As you wish. The new Overlord of the Eastern Realms is the Dark Lord Thirilight of Highcliffe."

"The Overlord's grandson?!" Laurelie cried, her blue eyes wide with dismay. At the same time, Mortimer started and looked at Thirry with something akin to horror.

"Are you certain?" Hawk asked quietly, peering at Thirry intensely.

"I am, unfortunately."

Hawk shook his head slowly. "This does not bode well," he said to Mortimer.

"It does not," Mortimer said, his eyes never leaving Thirry.

"How did you come by this information?" Salth asked. He did not understand why the others had reacted in such a way. Surely if this Thirilight were as evil as his fellows believed, Salth would have heard something, yet he could recall no tales of fell deeds machinated by this particular Dark Lord.

"I used to have a seat on the Lower Council of Villainy."

Salth spluttered. "You used to–?!"

Thirry held up a placating hand. "I gave it up."

Salth turned to Mortimer for confirmation, and the man nodded solemnly. Still, it was not enough for Salth.

"How did you come by the seat in the first place? You can't be more than nineteen."

"Firstly," Thirry glared at the young knight, "I happen to be twenty-seven. Secondly, I inherited the position."

"Twenty-seven," Salth echoed, dumbfounded. Hawk was twenty-nine, and he looked much older.

"You look much younger," Laurelie contributed weakly.

"Thank you." Thirry smiled at the girl before curtly asking Salth, "Is there anything else you would like to ask me?"

"What is your current occupation?" Salth asked, surly. He did not like being made the fool.

"Enchanter, speaking of which, would you like to purchase an enchantment? This one here," he said, pulling out a labeled package from a pocket of his cloak, "will prevent your weapons from rusting while this one," Thirry pulled forth another labeled package, "will ensure that the wind never blows your arrows off course. Or, if you are need of a consistent source of light, I have several globes of magelight." He set the packages down on the table before pulling a pair of the aforementioned crystal balls from his pocket.

Salth watched this performance with amazement. By all rights, Thirry should not have been able to hold all those items in that one pocket, yet there they lay on the table, as real as his battleaxe. Finally convinced that Thirry spoke the truth, Salth shook his head at the man's offer, saying, "I already have such an enchantment, I'm afraid."

"I am in no need of any enchantments, either," said Hawk.

"Oh." Thirry said, looking quite deflated. As he was putting away his wares, Laurelie spoke up.

"How much for one of the magelight globes?"

Thirry smiled and rolled one of the globes over to Laurelie. The moment she touched it, it flared into brilliant life. "For you, nothing."

Laurelie protested, her hand on her money pouch. "Oh, but–"

"Consider it a lovely gift for a more lovely lady," Thirry said as he tucked the last of his wares away into the safety of his bottomless pocket.

Laurelie blushed prettily. "Thank you."

"Well, then," Thirry said as he rose from the table, "if that's all, it's time I was off. My things won't pack themselves, you know." He took a few steps away before abruptly whirling around. "I almost forgot. I have a treat for Howard. Where is he, by the way?"

Mortimer rose from his seat with a smile, his earlier grimness forgotten. "He's outside. I'll show you to him."

Thirry and Mortimer exited out the side door to the yard where Howard had taken up residence. As the door shut behind the pair, Salth asked Hawk and Laurelie, "What did you think of him?"

Laurelie played with her new bauble, idly rolling the ball back and forth on the table. "I thought he was very nice," she said with a blush and giggle.

"He was telling the truth," Hawk replied, leaning back in his chair. The battered wood creaked ominously but held his weight.

"I wonder why Sangra attacked him, then," Salth brooded, fingering the grip of his axe.

"We will ask her when she awakens," said Hawk as he turned back to worrying his half-eaten meat.

Salth nodded before calling over a barmaid and ordering a trencher of soup. With all the earlier excitement and carrying Sangra up the stairs, he was famished. A hot meal of vegetable stew would be just the thing to end to this hectic day with.

-=-=-=-

I follow Mortimer outside to a small yard of packed dirt. One ancient oak huddles in one corner, and on a low, craggy limb is perched a griffon vulture – Howard. He extends his eight-foot wings in flight before landing on the arm I hold out.

"You're heavier than I remember."

Howard shrugs and looks at me expectantly while Mortimer laughs. Shaking my head at Mortimer (I never understood how he could laugh at almost anything), I fish out a tightly sealed container from the front left pocket of my pants. "Liver is your favorite, right?"

Howard bobs his white-fuzzed head in a nod, and I open the container. The pungent aroma of rotting flesh wafts out, and as I hold the container as far away from my body as possible, Howard lunges forward and begins gobbling down his treat.

Mortimer coughs and waves a hand in front of him to clear the air. "That is rancid. Where'd you get it?"

"Gramma gave it to me and told me to tell you to come and visit. It's been years, and she has a new cookie recipe she wants you to try."

"That's Gran Serena for you," Mortimer says with a laugh. "So, how's the recipe? Or haven't you tried it yet."

"Meh," I say, rocking my head from side to side. "It's not sweet enough."

Mortimer snorts. "Nothing is sweet enough for you."

Wordy laughs. He speaks truly. I have never had a bearer with as voracious a sweet tooth as you.

Oh, be quiet, Wordy.

As you wish, she says with a giggle before lapsing into silence.

Mortimer and I stand there in companionable peace while Howard enjoys his liver. Once he finishes, Howard returns to his perch in the old oak where he begins preening his sandy brown feathers.

As I reseal the container and place it back in my pocket, Mortimer begins speaking, his expression grave.

"You took a great risk coming here," he says, his brows furrowed.

I sigh. "I know," I say as I meet his eyes. "At least that woman – what was her name again? – didn't recognize me."

"Sangra, and she came very close. And what were you thinking admitting that you had a seat on the Lower Council?!"

"That man, Hawk, he isn't an ordinary ranger, is he?"

He most definitely is not.

You already told me that.

Mortimer becomes thoughtful. "No... He isn't."

"Wordy said as much."

Thank you for giving me credit.

I do try.

"He has an uncanny ability to detect lies, doesn't he?"

"He does," Mortimer says haltingly, tugging at a loose strand of hair, "but I had always attributed it to experience and skill. You're saying he has other means to detect the truth?"

"Yes. And that's why I told your companions about my previous position on the Lower Council."

I still say you took a greater risk than you needed to.

"Still, it was extremely risky. You could have told them the information came from a relative with a seat on one of the Councils."

See. Even Mortimer agrees with me.

Oh, be quiet, Wordy.

"Perhaps, but I didn't think of it at the time."

We need to work on your improvisational skills.

Wordy...

Fine, fine. Shutting up.

"Oh, well." Mortimer sighs before walking over to Howard. Petting his familiar, he says, "It all worked out in the end, I suppose."

I nod, but Mortimer's back is towards me, so I say, "It did. So," I come alongside him and lean on the tree, "what next?"

"My companions and I will hurry back to Caledon to report the information. And you? I saw you talking to Beryn. Is there any reason why?"

"I was offering him and his gang a job. Seeing as how I'm now an Overlord, I need a personal guard, and one I trust. Recruiting Ard'aam's former guard is far too risky."

Mortimer nods. "Has Beryn agreed?"

"Not yet, but I'm hopeful. I did make a very generous offer."

Mortimer tosses his head back in a laugh. "Well, I suppose it's time you left. Try not to get yourself killed."

"Try not to kill too many heroes."

"I've been abstaining admirably," he says with exaggerated hurt and offense.

I smile. "I'm sure you have. Well, until we meet again," I say as I begin to cross the yard, heading for the gate leading to the stables.

"Until we meet again."

Let's just hope it isn't on opposite ends of a sword.

Wordy!

Hello again great chapter as always!

Salth stood, Hawk a bare instant behind him, and ran to the door to tend to the unconscious Sangra

Instead of 'stood' I'd maybe have something about jumping up or leaping to his feet to show his haste

She would awaken soon, though Salth did not envy her the headache.

I'd maybe add a little bit on after 'headache' just to show clearly what you mean, perhaps something like 'that she would likely have'.

Mortimer laughed before giving the man Sangra had attacked a bear hug.

Because the attack was a while back, I'd maybe instead refer to him as the visitor or the disgruntled man or something like that.

His right hand drifted down Thirry's back before a quick elbow in his ribs, courtesy of his friend, persuaded the wandering appendage back up. Mortimer settled his hand upon Thirry's near shoulder.

This is a good description but I was a bit uncertain what was meant by it, is he being too friendly? Or trying to steal something from his pocket? It doesn't come up again later so I didn't really make much sense of it.

"I'll be bringing Sangra to her room."

'I'll take Sangra to her room' or something like that might run a bit smoother here

his eyes narrowed and mouth frowning.

I'm not sure about 'mouth frowning', I'd either have something about his forehead being creased into a frown or his mouth being tight lipped or pursed or something like that.

Thirry looked at Salth.

I think you could perhaps add a little bit more to this to show how he looks at Salth, either by just adding an extra word like 'coldly' or by adding some more action to it. For instance he could give a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"I already have such an enchantment, I'm afraid."

Thirilight was proposing a number of enchantments so I'd maybe change this to something like 'I already have a number of similar enchantments' or something like that.

she said with a blush and giggle.

You have already said she is blushing so I'd either change the response here to something else like her smiling or fiddling with her hair or I'd relate the blushing back to the fact she already is- so something about her blush deepening or turning an even more rosy shade of pink

One ancient oak huddles in one corner

It could be just me but I'm not that keen on the repetition of 'one', maybe 'An' at the beginning would be better or saying it was in 'the far corner' or something like that.

Wordy laughs. He speaks truly. I have never had a bearer with as voracious a sweet tooth as you.

I gathered that this was the sword talking after a moment but I don't think you have referred to it as 'wordy' before. I'd perhaps add in the name from the beginning (so in the last half of this chapter) or refer to it as the sword at first here as well so that it is clear who is speaking.

she says with a giggle

This is the only time you refer to it with a sex so it seemed kind of out of place to me here, the swords a female? I'd either have this somewhere at the start as well or just keep it sexless.

Howard returns to his perch in the old oak

I think 'on' might work better here than 'in'.

I say as I begin to cross the yard, heading for the gate leading to the stables.

As they greeted so warmly, maybe a goodbye shake or hug or something like that would be more appropriate here?

Overall: I like how you have included the other characters more, I think you have done well in introducing their personalities too I'm looking forward to reading the next chapter!

As I mentioned, the part with 'wordy' confused me a little and the reference to it as a she so I'd look back over that I think you could add in about how Mortimer reacts to Thirilight talking of 'wordy', they say they haven't spoken in a while so would he already know about the sword and how it speaks to him? Wouldn't he be curious as Thirilight was to why the sword would be helping him? I think you could just extend a bit more there.

I think you could add more to their voices here, you have done well in description but sometimes I didn't really get much of a sense as to how one character was replying to another. I think saying how they spoke things at some points instead of using 'say' and 'said' would help to show how they feel about each other. You could always do this as well by showing a bit more detail to their actions, so instead of just looking at someone they could be running their eye suspiciously over them to try and glean some information about their character.

I did love the part where Thirilight was talking about his new position without the others knowing it was him And the conversation between the sword and him is still funny, I always enjoy reading each chapter As always all my comments are just suggestions, hope I've helped! *Star*