Kade sat in the massive chair at the head of the table, his fingers drumming nervously against its polished surface. The silence of the room pressed in on him, broken only by the faint flicker of the crimson crystals embedded in the walls.
He glanced toward the door, half expecting the pale man to return and announce his doom. Instead, he was left alone to stew in the realization that he was, somehow, playing the part of an evil overlord in a world he didn't understand.
"This is fine. Totally fine. Just another day where everyone wants to kill me and call me their Dark Lord. Normal stuff."
He stood abruptly, pacing around the table. His coat flared behind him as he walked, its crimson embroidery catching the light. The outfit was immaculate, fitting him perfectly, but it didn't feel like his. Nothing about this body felt like his.
"Do villains actually wear this? Who picks this stuff out? Evil Me must have hired a personal shopper."
He paused, staring at his gloved hands.
"What am I supposed to do now?"
he muttered, his frustration bubbling over.
The door creaked open, and Kade spun around. The pale man stepped inside, bowing deeply as he approached.
'My lord,'
the man said smoothly.
'Your commanders have begun their surveillance of the invaders. They await your further instructions.'
Kade hesitated, forcing himself to look calm.
'Good,'
he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
'Let them proceed. I want every detail about these… intruders.'
The man nodded approvingly.
'As always, your foresight is unparalleled, my lord.'
Kade blinked.
"Foresight? Oh yeah, I'm dripping with it. Can't see two minutes into my own future, but sure."
'One more thing,'
the man said.
'Your personal attendant has prepared your quarters. Perhaps you would like to rest while we handle the preliminary operations?'
'Quarters?'
Kade asked, tilting his head like a confused puppy.
The man straightened, his expression calm but firm.
'Yes, my lord. Your chambers have been prepared as per your usual preferences. Shall I escort you?'
Kade hesitated, then nodded.
'Lead the way.'
The man bowed again before turning toward the door. Kade followed, his boots clicking against the stone floor as they moved through another maze of hallways. The castle seemed endless, every corridor lit by the same eerie crimson glow.
"Seriously, how do villains not get lost in these places? Do they hand out maps? Do I have a map?"
They stopped in front of a pair of towering black doors, carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift under the flickering light. The pale man pushed the doors open, revealing a room that took Kade's breath away.
The space was enormous, the walls lined with shelves filled with ancient books and artifacts. A massive canopy bed sat against one wall, its dark sheets and heavy curtains exuding luxury. The far end of the room opened onto a balcony that overlooked the castle grounds, a sea of jagged cliffs and swirling mist.
Kade stepped inside, his eyes wide.
'This is… something,'
he said.
The pale man gave a faint smile.
'Only the finest for our Dark Lord.'
Kade walked to the center of the room, turning in a slow circle as he took in the surroundings. It felt more like a set piece than a place someone actually lived in.
"Oh, look at me, king of the villains, lord of the fancy furniture. All this just for little old me?"
The pale man spoke again, his tone soft but measured.
'Shall I send for refreshments, my lord? Or perhaps you would like to consult the archives while you wait for the reports?'
Kade turned back to him, forcing a confident nod.
'The archives sound… useful. Yes, do that.'
The man bowed deeply.
'As you wish, my lord.'
He left the room, the doors closing quietly behind him. Kade let out a long breath, collapsing onto a nearby chair. The plush cushions felt almost too comfortable, like they were mocking his current situation.
"What am I supposed to do with an archive?"
he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
His eyes wandered to the balcony, drawn by the faint light of the crescent moon hanging low in the blood-red sky. The view was both beautiful and terrifying, a stark reminder of how far he was from anything familiar.
He leaned back, closing his eyes.
If this was a performance, it was the most elaborate one he'd ever been part of. But unlike the stage, there was no director to guide him, no script to follow. All he had was his wits, his instinct, and the hope that no one saw through his act.
For now, that would have to be enough.