[Macintosh Hills, Clan Pyrite’s den, shortly after the return from the first Verse-Jump]

I stepped out of the portal, my eyes still re-adjusting from the annoying teleport flash. Seriously, there had to be a way to turn that shit down a few notches.

As the last dancing spots of light disappeared, I looked around. The Diamond Dogs’ mine still looked mostly like when I had left it with all the canines’ treasures and my liberated Hive in tow.

The air was still pregnant with the lovely odor of wet fur and smoke.

Mounds of dirt still dominated the general landscape everywhere.

Vest-clad Dogs still mostly digging around without much of a plan in shallow holes, transporting their meager finds to the mysterious slides that would transport them into the depths of the den. I caught more than one of them glancing at me when they thought I was not looking.

There were still a few Guard Dogs present, but instead of rushing me like the last time, they gave me a moderate berth and tightened the grip around their weapons nervously.

The most striking difference were the flagpoles that had been erected at the entrance and at some erratic places along the crater’s walls, with my dirty red flags wafting in a mild breeze. I could even see a bunch of what turned out to be the same working-duds-clad-Minions from my tower erecting a flagpole right in the middle of the of the square.

Idly, I pondered my next steps, seeing as none of the Dogs seemed to be overly enthusiastic to interact with me on their own accord.

>>Ah, Milady has arrived I see. Good. Now, let us start our lesson in properly managing your first new domain,<< Gnarl's voice buzzed in my ears and saved me from more pondering.

>>First and foremost Milady, gather your Minions around you. It is both a good show of power and an opportunity to improve their equipment, further strengthening your fighting capacities. On that note, try to summon more than thirty minions this time Milady. I have the suspicion that your control maximum has been increased.<<

“Okay,” I shrugged, turned and called my Minions out of their own portals, seeing as a Red portal has opened up right beside the Brown one. I ended up with thirty Browns and in addition five happily grinning Red Minions, all looking at me with expectant faces.

>>Ah, I was right. The evil energy that your Ladyship absorbed earlier has increased your ability to actively control more Minions. Well, five more Minions might not seem like much right now, but it is an useful increase nonetheless,< Gnarl commented mentally.

>>Speaking of Minions, Gnarl, did you send these workers here?<< I ‘asked’.

>>Indeed. I took that liberty, your Ladyship. Seeing as this lovely hole in the ground does not even has a fortified gate at the entrance I sent those Minions to erect flags to mark your new domain and to build some basic fortifications, palisades and the like. I hope this finds your approval,<< Gnarl explained.

>>Good thinking there, Gnarl. I was planning something like that too. Can't have my new acquisitions left undefended, right?<<

>>I aim to please, Milady,<< Gnarl ‘said’, a toothy smile swinging with his words.

“Alright, now about this improving thing…” I said more to myself. How should I do that? In the game it was a piece of pie, just let your Minions wreak every crate, barrel or other container and most of the time they would find something useful. Hell, in part two, there were even weapons and armor lying on the ground around peasants working on anvils.

Hmm, no anvils in sight. Just dogs.

Speaking of dogs, I still needed information about my new mine and its inhabitants, the obvious aside.

Choosing a dog in my vicinity at random, I strolled over to the digging canine in a relaxed pace and tapped its shoulder with my ironclad left hand. The dog stopped its activity and turned to face me.

“Hey there, buddy. Name's Umbra, the Overlady, the Mistress of Minions, all the things that go bump in the night, slayer of your previous leader and new big boss of this lovely dirt hole. I need some info’s and you, my friend, have been chosen to be the lucky pup to answer all my questions.” I smiled from underneath my helmet, my left hand firm but not too firm on the dog’s shoulder, my right casually holding onto my mace.

The Diamond Dog, a rather skinny fellow that was one head shorter than me, with a patchy granite grey fur that was riddled with spots of lighter and darker fur alike and wearing a simple brown vest that seemed at least one number to big for him(now that he had turned around I assumed it was a ‘him’ judging by his facial features) and likewise a simple collar. What surprised me were the slightly dented and scratched glasses he wore on the bridge of his nose. Never knew that Diamond Dogs used glasses, let alone could make them. Then again, it was highly probable that he stole them from a pony or a caravan or something of the like. Nervous yellow eyes measured me from behind them.

“Sooo, first things first. What’s your name, pal?” I asked in what I thought was my best Hades impersonation. The dog’s ears splayed back. Obviously I was more intimidating that I thought. Not a bad thing though.

“G-gobbing… my name is Gobbing… ehrm, Alpha…” the dog stammered, casting nervous glances at me and my entourage of Minions. Yep, a him. I was getting better at this.

Wow, already acknowledged as Alpha by a random dog. News must have been traveling quick.

“Gobbing, eh?” I slightly cocked my head and mustered the shaking dog closer. Where his brethren were muscular or at least stocky, Gobbing was indeed skinny. His arms did not have the usual gorilla-like build, but unlike his relatives he had astute eyes unlike the dull marbles the other dogs had in their undoubtedly thick skulls. Maybe it was just the glasses or maybe it was the fact that his hole was not even ankle deep and his bucket was still empty OR the fact the he answered me with a grammatically correct sentence, but something from the farthest corner of my mind told me that this dog would be very useful in the future.

“Well, you look more like a Patches to me, so I´m gonna call you Patches from now on. Like it? Great, thought so.” Without waiting for the dumbfounded looking dog to answer, I turned around and took him along with me, my hand firmly planted on the newly christened Patches’ small shoulder.

“So Patches, tell me, you seem to be a rather odd fellow for a Diamond Dog, if you don’t mind me saying so. I could not help but notice your ability to properly articulate yourself or your rather, well, lacking physique. Care to tell me why?” I asked jovially. “Nice glasses by the way.”

Patches squirmed under my hand as we walked. Now, I never considered myself to be particularly sadistic, but there was an image I needed to cement. That I was the top bitch around here now and if I would be able to handle little Patches here, the rest of the pack should not pose a problem.

“Ähem… uhm…” the scrawny dog hem´ed and haw´ed.

“Come now Patches, pal, buddy. If you can't tell your benevolent leader, who then, hmm?” I pressured, noticeably tightening the grip of my left hand around his shoulder.

Letting out a big sigh, Patches’ ears splayed back again. “You see, Alpha… I was the last of my litter. A total of nine pups and all brothers. Sometimes I wonder how I survived long enough to eat solid food because my brothers claimed all of mother’s milk first, leaving me with barely enough to survive.” He paused and fiddled with his paws.

Hard childhood, huh? Sounds like a dog-eat-dog world. Literally.

“As I grew up, I noticed that several things were off about me. I never gained the same build like the other dogs and I did not share they simple enthusiasm for digging for bucket loads of glittering gems day in, day out. Instead, I liked to slowly and careful dig up small amounts of rare and hard to find gems. It was like a treasure hunt for me back then, which of course did not please the Alpha at all who wanted quantity rather than quality. On top of that, I had a rather poor eyesight which the other dogs used to tease me about. ‘Oh look. Its mole-dog.’ Or ‘You scrawny and blind. You no good dog, might as well be pony!’”

“Well, look on the bright side Patches. At least you won’t have the quantity versus quality problem anymore because it drowned in molten iron, together with your old Alpha.” I said conversationally and punctuated my sentence with a hearty slap on Patches back. “But that still does not answer the question on how you got your level of education in this lovely neck of the woods... or rather, mountains.”

“Yes, you see, one day the guards brought up a trader pony’s caravan that got lost in the mountains somehow. At first the Alpha was pleased, seeing as caravans often carry valuable goods, but not this time. Aside a few basic tools, this trader mostly transported schoolbooks, quills, all kind of things a normal Diamond Dog has absolutely no need for so the Alpha had it thrown out, but not before I managed to save half a dozen books. I was fascinated by the ponies’ abilities to conserve their knowledge in other, more stable ways than oral lore and their way to teach their young their way with written words…”

“So in your free time, you used the books to teach yourself to read and speak properly, correct?” I assumed. In that moment, I decided that I liked Patches more and more.

A sheepish look sneaked onto the grey dog’s muzzle “Yes. That and Bit Flip taught me.”

“Bit Flip?”

“She was the trader who owned the caravan. The Alpha commanded that she was put to work in the mines, carrying gems and ore to the storages because she had no useful goods for us.”

“Well, your old Boss was a charming fellow, wasn’t he?” I asked, a hint of venom creeping in my voice as I recalled my thankfully short bout with Steel Fang. “So, despite being a prisoner and forced into labor this Bit Flip thought it would be a good idea to teach you?”

“No… yes… I mean, at first she and I had not much contact beside that I was the one who brought her food, but as I learned more and more I stumbled over one word in particular I could not comprehend and so finally one night I sneaked into her cell and asked her to explain it to me. At first she was reluctant, but over time we warmed up to each other more and more. Over the day I would do my best to ease her working load and at night she would teach me how to read, write, and speak properly.”

“Sounds rather nice for a pony.”

Patches nodded and hmm-ed.

A question wormed itself into the forefront of my mind. “Now you have me curious here. What was this word you didn't get?”

A smile formed on Patches’ lips “It was ‘friend’.”

Wow, gag me! That was almost too sweet and cliché for me and that meant something, seeing as I once ate a whole mixing bowl of fondant for a dare. Hmm, easiest fifty euros I ever won.

“Wait, so you are telling me that Diamond Dogs don’t know the concept of the word friend?” I asked with a good portion of skepticism.

“It´s true, Alpha. A pack’s hierarchy is strictly modeled after the concept of ‘might makes right’. On top is the Alpha, the strongest who normally succeeded his predecessor by besting him in battle, oftentimes killing him. Then normally comes the Beta, the Alpha’s second in command. Most Alphas were once Betas until they became strong enough to challenge their leader. After that comes the bulk of the pack, the diggers and guards. Finally, at the end of the ladder there is the Omega, the weakest member of the pack, the one that gets pushed around by absolutely any other dog…” Patches explained to me, his voice notably sagging at the end. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Let me guess, you?”

He just nodded, his weird, club like tail visibly tugging between his legs at the memoires that his explanation without a doubt had made him recall.

“And where do you got these glasses from? From the caravan too?”

“They were a gift. Bit Flip gave them to me before she… went away.”

I watched Patches gently taking of the seeing aid and cleaning them on the inside of his vest. Melancholy was evident all over his face.

“Oh. So she died?”

At that, Patches looked at me for the first time on his own accord, his ears shooting straight up before sinking back again a bit.

“No, no… she… she escaped from her cell that night.” He clarified, his eyes nervously scanning his surroundings like someone who was hiding vital information.

“And pray tell, how did she managed to do that, little doggy?” I asked, making sure that my voice carried enough amicableness not to cause the suddenly very jumpy dog a heart attack, but enough underlying firmness to make clear that this was not a real question and to establish steady eye contact with the now squirming canine.

“Uhm, maybe someone lured the guard away with a juicy bone and eventually in his distraction the guard somehow lost his keys and then those keys somehow ended up just in a reachable distance to the cell's door Bit Flip was held in,” Patches hesitantly explained.

“Ah-ha.” I deadpanned “And how did she managed to get out of a whole den of Diamond Dogs unscathed afterwards?”

“It could be a coincidence, but just that evening someone seemed to have forgotten to lock the storage cave with the lichen beer, which may or may not had pretty much all the guards occupied as soon as they got wind of it.” Patches said, nervously licking his lips at the end.

So in short, not only did I found a Diamond Dog with enough grey matter to be an adequate conversationalist but also one who, despite the fact that he was the punching bag of his pack, managed not only to use the fact that no one would have credited him the balls to try something out of line but also snitched at least two important keys from active guards, caused an efficient distraction and risked his furry ass by freeing a valuable work slave. Hmm, who would have known?

>>Gnarl, I like this one and I think I have a perfect job in the management department for him. Your two cents?<<

After a moment of mental silence, Gnarl answered. >>Well, I admit, he seems to be a sneaky and crafty fellow but without the possible intention to go behind Milady’s back in the foreseeable future and under the right circumstances. And should he fall out of line, it would probably not take much to rectify that.<<

“Well, then it is a good thing such coincidences will never happen again, right Patches? I mean, unless a dog would be interested in exploring what it would feel like to get molten iron poured down his slash her throat, of course.” I said with a smile and all the underlying sharpness I could cram into my voice.

Patches nodded rapidly.

During our conversation, I led us to the central flag where I stopped. “Alright Patches, I have a few announcement to make and for that I would like all dogs present before me. Is there some kind of call, can we ring a bell for that?” I asked, preparing for my first real Overlady-ish actions.

Much to my surprise, Patches produced a slightly grimy whistle from his vest, put one finger in his left ear and blew the whistle.

No tone came out of it whatsoever. I was about so say something as I heard the sounds of many, many paws and in a few moments the whole square was filled with a colorful assortment of Diamond Dogs, both Diggers and Guards. If I had to venture a guess, they numbered somewhere around one hundred, maybe a few more. Most of them looked confused, some irritated and some even curious. Having the official punching bag blow the proverbial assembly horn was probably something unusual.

“Hey, what gives?” a Digger in the front row asked, visibly irked “Why you call for pack gathering, Gobbing?”

“Yeah, why you have whistle anyways?” a Guard Dog, a female if the slightly softer voice was an indication, asked, baring her fangs a bit.

Good question there, one I would ask Patches sometime soon, as it seemed that the whistle was something important.

After that, several other voices grew loud and soon I felt oddly reminiscent of my old class when a particularly lively debate was raging on. It was loud, everyone was talking over the others and a slight hint of migraine was creeping in your skull.

Once again I was baffled how one could overlook a one eighty tall assembly of glowing eyes, intimidating armor and awesome mace. Well, no use to brood over that. Time for a speech. I held my left over my head and let go of a Corruption Burst. The sharp crack of electricity had the desired effect, shutting the dogs up nearly instantly.

“Hello, dogs and bitches and welcome to your first pack meeting under the new management,” I began, opting to go all out right from the start. “You are all here because I said so. For all of you who missed the obvious hints, those are the flags with my crest on it all around, and the fact that I stroll around here like I own the place because I do, by the way. I am Umbra, the Overlady and I am your new Alpha. For the forgetful amongst you, yes, I killed you old Alpha so that makes me the legitimate new leader, according to the rules of the pack which Patches here was so nice to explain them to me.” I made short pause to allow the info to permeate even the thinky-slush of the most simple dog.

“Ähh… who Patches?” a particularly confused dog somewhere in the middle of the bunch asked.

“Glad you asked,” I said and patted Patches on the shoulder “THIS is Patches.”

“No, this Gobbing,” another dog said.

“Oh really?”

“Ya,” the same dog said with conviction.

“Well, I renamed him, so shut your trap before I rename you Fluffy McCuddlebutt the Second.” The dogs ears splayed back and several dogs around him began to snicker. “Anyways, seeing as I am the big boss of you now, I need someone to manage and oversee the operations here during the times I am in my tower. Someone who is reliable and has a good head on his shoulders, not just some dull rock. For this reason, I hereby name Patches my official trustee for everything Clan Pyrite does or will need to do in the future.”

The silence that followed was nearly deafening. Over a hundred pair of eyes looked at me in confusion, and I had the distinct feeling that even Gnarl was staring with his mouth wide open back home.

Finally, one dog spoke up “Ähhh… what is ‘trastii’?”

Resisting to the urge to sigh loudly, I said, “Beta. It means Patches is my Beta and you are all bound to obey him when I am not around.”

And then, hell broke loose.

Well, not really hell, but all present dogs began shouting in a disorderly fashion. Some began to argue with each other while others seemed to downright froth at the mouth, and others still looked ready to bash in some skulls.

>>Milady, pardon my words but have you lost it?!? You… you can't make this dog… you cannot give him THAT much power! He downright admitted that he freed a prisoner. If you give him totally free reign in your absence, he is bound to rise against you some time!<< Gnarl yelled over the mind link.

Sure, and you won´t. Eh, old walnut?

>>Chill Gnarl. I did it exactly because of that. It was not even necessary to apply much pressure and Patches sung like the Comedian Harmonists. Should the thought of rebellion ever cross his mind, I highly doubt that he would be able to hide it for long.<< I replied.

>>That’s a point, I guess…<< Gnarl grumbled.

After making Gnarl shut up about Patches, I turned my attention back at the present dogs again. In the few moments of my mental talk with Gnarl, it seemed like six dogs in particular had crystallized themselves out of their brethren, seeing as they were gesticulating the wildest and had some berth around them.

I inhaled and bellowed in my most magnanimously magnificent Overlady voice.

“QUIET!”

Nearly immediately all bickering and barking stopped as the dogs turned to me as one. Not bad, I was getting better at this too.

“Alright you mutts, anyone of you got a problem with me? Then get our sorry asses over here!” I stated, pointing the Beast in front of me.

Slowly, the six dogs peeled themselves out of the surrounding masses and walked over, giving me the opportunity to get a better look. Four of them wore the guard’s armor but looked a bit tougher the regular mook, with more pronounced jaws and more muscular arms (veterans maybe?) while the other two wore simple vests that I by now associated with the Diggers. The Guard Dogs and one of the vested dogs were clearly male while the last dog was a female if the two lumps on her chest were anything to go by. Suddenly I was curious. If Diamond Bitches only had two milk bags, then how did they got big litters like Patches fed? But for that moment I choose to ignore this conundrum, seeing as I still needed to solve the mutiny thing that was at hand.

“Okay, so you six have a problem with my decision?” I asked the six dogs.

“Ya! We have!” one of the armored dogs growled and shifted into a more aggressive stance by leaning on his front paws not unlike a gorilla while his ears shifted backwards.

The second dog was just staring at me in silence, just making a show out of flexing his paws.

“You make Gobbing Beta? Gobbing is Omega! Is weakling! Is mole-dog without his pony-looking-thingy!” the third Guard Dog growled.

“Glasses you imbecile, they are called glasses. And what are your two cents?” I stated, looking at the last guard. I felt his eyes trying to burn a hole into me from the depths of his scratched helmet.

“You making bad decision, bad for pack. Maybe you bad Alpha?” the dog scoffed, earning a few supporting cheers. Oh, lovely. Already a challenger after being the Alpha for... what? A few hours tops?

I stared down at the dog “Was that a challenge?”

The dog smiled, showcasing an impressive set of fangs. Not as impressing as Steel Fangs’ but still.

“And you three?” I addressed the other armored dogs “Are you challenging me too?” One just snorted not unlike a bull, the others nodded.

My gaze found the vest clad dogs. “Mind to wait until I dealt with those four? I´ll be quick, I promise,” I asked, jerking my thumb into the direction of the Guard Dogs. The Diggers nodded dumbfounded and hurried to make some room for the upcoming events.

Over the mental link, I heard Gnarl gasp. >>Milady, what are you doing? You cannot be serious? You can´t take on four of these dogs just now. Your body is still weakened from the rebirth…<<

>>Don't worry Gnarl, I got this,<< I assured the old Minion. At least I hoped so.

Turning to my would-be usurpers I adressed them, my voice brimming with as much confidence as I could muster. “Alright you four, I accept your challenge and since I want this to be over quick, I will battle all of you at once.” This earned excited murmurs from the crowd and disbelieving looks from my challengers. Facing my Minions who seemed giddy for some violence I simply said, “Stay put. Momma can do this on her own.”

“Heh, you not only bad Alpha, you also stupid,” the Leader chuckled and made a show out of flexing his muscles in an attempt to intimidate me. Admittedly, he did a good job as I felt sweat start to form in my everything.

“Nope, just plain badass. Bring it, puppy!” I countered, giving my best to keep my cool. That was enough. As one, the four dogs launched themselves forward, stone-cutting claws poised to rip into me like a child into a Christmas present.

Where just moments before my heart rate and blood pressure skyrocketed, a weird sort of calmness now flooded my mind, soothing my rising urge to book it with an eerie callousness. It was the call of battle, the prospect of death. Like my predecessors before me, it calmed my nerves, honed my senses, and filled my body with a macabre sense of anticipation… to see those who would oppose me bloodied, defeated, and lying broken at my feet.

The four canines closed in, bounding on all fours, teeth bared, barking and howling and all of them with a glint of madness in their dull eyes. I breathed calmly, measuredly, as the blood of the Overlord pulsed and boiled within me, crying out for death. Previous incarnations of the Overlord had razed armies, toppled kingdoms, brought entire worlds to their knees and while all of them held their own unique powers and spells, the very first Overlord, using foul magic long since forgotten, passed down to his successors an innate intuition and talent for spellcasting, to better help those who would follow in his footsteps and bring darkness and evil unto the world. All this knowlegde bubbled to the suface of my mind in the same fashion as someone might recall a distant memory and it filled me with a dark kind of self-confidence.

I raised my left hand and from deep within my soul I felt the irresistible urge to smile as dark magic began to pool in my palm.

From the corner of my eyes I could see the gathered dogs holding their breath. The dogs charging at me were just above an afterthought.

A tiny blue spark was the only warning my challengers got. Immediately after, blinding blue arcs of lightning sprung from my palm with a near deafening crack, rushing into the general vicinity of the charging mutts and slamming into them before they could react, completely stopping them in their tracks.

I could not help it but let out a cackling laugh as my dark magic ravaged the bodies of the Diamond Dogs, the blood of the Overlord within me pulsing in glee as my opponents writhed and howled in unspeakable agony. I felt my pulse hammering as I pumped more and more magic into my opponents, who in turn thrashed and howled, their cries of pain being the sweetest music to my ears. Every dog except the leader. Even though my dark magics ravaged him as much as his buddies he managed to stand back up, looking at me with a pained but defiant eye! Tough cookie, I had to give him that. Okay, you wanna play hardball, you gonna get hardball! I willed every bit of Mana I had left into my spell, knowing full well that I was inviting a mighty magical hangover but to hell with that! My Corruption spell flashed brightly as I felt the last pieces of resistance crumble away, but I did not stop. Nope siree, bob, not today. ‘Might makes right’ was all these dogs respected and if I wanted this respect I had to show that I was the strongest.

“Un... limited... POWER!” I yelled as my spell reached its peak. Four pained howls that were bound to give me nightmares later on and four synchronical flashes later, I closed my hand and canceled the spell. All that remained in front of me were four smoking sets of armor.

Huffing, I turned towards the Diggers who watched me with neatly tucked tails. “Alright… *huff*… you two got anymore… *hah* objections?”

“No, no! No objections, no problems. Not at all Alpha!” the female dog managed to rush out while all the male dog could do was to vigorously shake his head which scored him a quick elbow jab into his ribs. After that he quickly stammered out “No Alpha! No problems Alpha!”

“And what about you all?” I addressed the crowd, accompanied by a wide gesture with my mace “Does any of you still has a problem with me? Then speak now and rest in pieces or shut your trap and go back to work!” I barked the last part, noticing the oh so sweet pulsating pain of magical withdrawal setting in. The dogs scattered like a flock of chickens at the sight of a dragon.

As the last dog had left, I turned towards Patches who looked like one of those street performers imitating a statue. “Alright, now that we have that clarified, let’s talk business my new Beta.” I rasped, my throat feeling raw for some weirdass reason.

“B-business?” my new trustee muttered, slowly coming out of his shock.

“Yes, business. I still need to know what it is exactly that you guys mine here, how much per day, the quality, how many dogs exactly live in my new mine, such things. Business,” I confirmed. “And please keep it down a bit, will ya?”

Still shaking, Patches took a calming breath and began to explain while I did my best to listen attentively.

Steady applause rang out in my ears and Gnarls voice sounded through the ether, soothing like a rusty chainsaw >>Bravo Milady, very good. Marvelous application of Overlord rule number five ‘Rule through fear’, though I must ask you to not make it that close in the future. You nearly ran out of Mana on the last few meters.<<

>>Gnarl?<<

>>Yes Milady?<<

>>Shut the fuck up, my head is killing me!<<

>>Of course Milady. Shutting up.<<

[The dark Tower, a few days after the visit in Clan Pyrite’s den]

“Once more, Milady and this time, please for the love of everything that is dark, at least try to aim in the general direction of the target,” Gnarl groused.

Waving my left hand to cool the metal of my Gauntlet of Domination, I snarked back “Well excu~use me for being right handed for the whole of my life, which makes it a rather intense task to learn to properly aim and hurl magical flame spheres at a target the size of a damn dinner plate at a distance the most professional Hitman would feel challenged!”

Gnarl sighed heavily, licked two of his fingers and extinguished the ember that was busily eating away at one of his eyebrows.

We stood in a large room that according to Gnarl, would once house my very personal training facilities as soon as we had the needed furniture. I had been as enthusiastic as a snail confronted with a bucket of salt at the prospect of a gym in my tower but Gnarl had insisted that a healthy evil mind could only reside in a healthy evil body, thus the need for all kinds of equipment that I normally associated with torture devices and not the kinky kind.

“May it as it be, Milady, this does not change the fact that you need to at least halfway master your new spell before we head out for the next time. Countless generations of Overlords have proven that the Fireball is a trusty combat spell with a multitude of side uses. We can count ourselves lucky that absorbing the evil energy of the dog leader somehow enabled your dark Magnificence to use the Fireball spell on the same basis like your Corruption spell,” Gnarl droned before pointing his stick at my target, a ramshackle thing made of leftover boards from a construction side somewhere in the tower. “Now remember, feel the Mana flow into your palm but do not forget to add some of your Ladyship’s passion into it to change the spells properties to fire instead of lightning.”

Yes, obviously my emotions could somehow affect my spellcasting. While pouring additional wrath or disdain into my spell, I somehow ended up using my Corruption spell, while passion (which was commonly associated with heat or fire,as Gnarl had explained to me) could alter the outcome to fire and subsequently making me cast a Fireball.

I did as instructed and a few heartbeats later small embers began to form a flickering sphere in my palm, the size of a marble.

“Good, very good Milady. Keep it steady now,” Gnarl continued as my spell grew until it had reached the size of an orange that rotated between my fingers which I held in a claw like fashion.

How one used the hand during spellcasting was obviously also extremely crucial for the stability of the spell. While it was fine and dandy that I completely spread my fingers during the use of my Corruption spell, seeing as it was more or less a homing attack, I had to carefully form and guide my Fireball unless I wanted it to blow up into my face which I found out the hard way as I first attempted to consciously use my new skill. Good thing Gnarl had insisted that I practice my spell fully geared or else I might have lost my eyebrows and a good portion of my hair. Someone could have told me earlier that compressing the flame like in Skyrim would end in a big ka-boom.

“Yes, yes! That’s the way Milady. Now, lob it at the target. Remember, the key is to stay elastic in the elbow!” Gnarl’s excited voice rang out from behind a sandbag barrier that had been piled up by a few Minions after my tenth failed attempt to cast the Fireball.

Staying elastic, ha, easy to say for someone hiding behind a few dozen sandbags. Well, he was right though. Not stiffening your arm at the end of the motion was a key in combination with the visualization of actually throwing a physical object instead of an intangible sphere of compressed flames.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I mumbled and let my arm snap towards the target. The spell left my hand and nearly that instant, it grew to the size of a handball. Something about the compressed nature of the magic that Gnarl had tried to explain to me but I didn´t get it. Gnawing at my lip, I watched the fiery projectile soar through the air.

“Come on, come oo~on…”

With a ‘whoosh’ the Fireball impacted against the wall solid three meters to the left from the target, adding another sooth stain that stained the rooms floor, walls and the ceiling.

“Aw fuck it!” Annoyed I threw my arms up.

“Now, now. This is the closest your Ladyship has come so far,” Gnarl said peeking over his cover in an attempt to keep the remains of my motivation from crumbling. “That is clearly an improvement after just practicing for the better half of the day.”

“Still feels like a waste of time,” I said glumly. This was hard.

“Hardly, Milady,” Gnarl said as he left his barricade “Today we did not only learn of your new ability but also that you need a lot of training to use it effectively in the future. I would call this a productive day, all in all.”

“Way to raise my spirits, Gnarl.” Maybe I would learn faster if I used him as a moving target?

The old Minion showed a crooked smile. “Yes, one of my often overlooked talents. Well, how about we call it a day for today and continue the lessons tomorrow? In the meantime we could venture to the brood-pits and ask Norbert to resurrect Wiener so Milady could get dinner?”

I was about to answer but my stomach was faster, demanding nutrients with a sound that would not have been misplaced in a lion’s den in a zoo.

“Yeah, sounds good,” I grinned sheepishly.

As we made our way down into the catacombs of my tower I asked Gnarl, “Hey, think Wiener will hold it against me that I torched him when he served breakfast?”

Gnarl took a moment to ponder while our steps, my heavy metallic thuds and his pattering, sounded through the stairs. Finally, with a throaty chuckle the wizened Minion answered. “In all honesty, I don't think so Milady. Although I believe I will never be able to look at a pot of jam in the same way ever again. It does not happen every day that a Minion ends up as a pile of ash just because a dark Ruler reached out for it.” At the end, Gnarl noticeably had to fight down his mirth.

“S-shaddap! It was a damn accident!” I yelled flustered, feeling my cheeks heat again up in embarrassment over my magical breakfast mishap for the umpteenth time today.

[The dark Tower, the Forges the next day]

“So, you have enough iron and other materials to work with?” I asked my head-smith.

The Minion, a Red much to my surprise and going by the apt name of ‘Welder’ nodded his ram horned head. “Yes Milady. We have loads of iron, good iron and wood and coal, yes. It will burn, burn bright the flames will, yes it will! Burn, burn, burn!” Welder answered dutifully only to delve into a manic giggle at the end. But hey, what do you expect from a literal firebug?

I sighed and rested my face in my palm for a bit.

The forge of my tower had come out nicely, especially with the pilfered smelter and all the tools from Steel Fangs’ old forge. Gotta hand it to that dog, he had known his tools. Together will several wagon loads of iron ore that the Arch Heart sucked out of the mountains as it had built my tower, my smithy was now officially ready to pump out weapons and armor for my little lackeys, seeing that the Diamond Dogs turned out to be only capable of making the most rudimentary armor and weapons for themselves. They even seemed unable to comprehend the simple concept of adapting the size from Dog to Minion.

Well, at least they were continuously pumping out several baskets of mixed gemstones and even a few baskets of iron and silver ore from the depths of their mine. Patches had so far proven to be a good trustee and the others dogs had not given as much as a peep until now.

My thoughts returned to the present as I observed the busy Minions that made up my smithy team under Welders guidance filling forms with white glowing, molten iron, hammering away at the sparking slugs and placing the finished parts on in waiting racks.

It was strangely hypnotic, listening to the beat of the hammers, the hissing of the iron and the occasional manic cackling from Welder as the formerly empty racks got filled with sleek, black helmets sporting integrated face covers and simple, likewise black cuirasses that would offer good protection while at the same time not restricting my Minions movements. Curved, single edged swords, short axes with broad heads and Minion sized spears glistened in the fire of the forge together with special gloves for the Red Minions which would them allow to utilize their fire globs better (even though I had no Idea how this worked). It all filled me with giddy anticipation for my next little adventure.

But there was still one thing I had to take care of before. Additional armaments for myself. As much as I loved my unleashed Beast, carrying that lump of steel around anywhere was starting to get taxing. Also I had the creeping suspicion that I would be in dire need of more stealthy weapons. For that reason I picked Welder up by the neck not unlike a cat and walked over to the part of the forge that was, as Gnarl had explained, dedicated to the production of the finest weapons and armor known by Minionkind for my personal use only.

Putting the surprisingly light Minion back onto his clawed feet and pondered for a moment what kind of weapon I wanted. Something swift, yet deadly. Something that could be relatively easy be hidden in comparison to my mace. Something with style. Yes, something down to earth.

Snapping my fingers, I exclaimed, “A falchion! Welder, I want you to make me a falchion. But don’t make it flashy or fancy, just a simple blade with a simple sheath. No thorns, no demonic faces. Plain and simple.”

“A commoner’s weapon Milady?” Gnarl piped up, sounding displeased. Most of the time he was following me around in case I needed something, effectively only leaving me alone when I slept. Came to think of it, I never noticed where the old fart vanished to when he was not buzzing around me. Hmm, maybe he had his own room? Or did he sleep in the Brown Hive? I had to ask him that later.

“It may have started out as that Gnarl but a falchion is a pretty useful thing. Sure, most people tend to use it as a secondary weapon but in a cramped environment it is much easier to use that my clunky mace. Besides, it is a light weapon, allowing for swift slashes and thrusts should I face nimble opponents while my mace is better for downright smashing and crushing big or slow things. On a side note, I wanted to go and try this infusing thing you told me about,” I explained.

At that, Gnarls face lit up. He always seemed happy when I remembered one of his lessons and put it to use. “A splendid idea Milady. Infusing your equipment with your Minions life force can give you the edge in combat and catch your enemies on the wrong foot. Seeing as we only have plenty of Brown and Red life force, which will your Ladyship choose?”

“Hmm, the Red life force causes fire damage right?” I asked and Gnarl nodded “But the Brown adds more physical ‘oomph’ to the weapons blows right?”

Gnarl nodded again.

“Well then Welder, make me a falchion saturated with Brown life force.” I ordered and watched my head-smith promptly go to down on his anvil and tools. Admittedly, watching a score of fifty Minions jump into the liquid iron with gleeful expressions was a bit unnerving but not even ten minutes after I had made my request, Welder stood before me and presented me the fruit of his hard work. I did not even tried to ask how he could work so fast.

I took the weapon from Welder and unsheathed the blade. Like I had ordered, the blade was simple polished steel, roughly seventy centimeters maybe seventy five with a single razor edge and a slight curve towards the point. The only thing that was not simple was the handguard, which was modelled like the wide smiling face of a Brown Minion with the ears serving as the actual handguards while the head forming the center, with the blade protruding from its scalp. Looking closer I could have sworn that I had seen a expectant twinkle in the blank metal eyes.

“Well, this looks good so far Welder.” I said, giving the weapon a few test swings. “Feels nice to swing it.” Spotting an armor rack in the basic form of a mannequin, a smile crept onto my lips. I walked over and swung my new blade at the defenseless wood. The moment the blade made contact, the eyes in the handguard flashed yellow and my eyes went wide together with my grin as the falchion cut a deep notch into the wood, deeper that it should have.

It felt… good.

Better than good. It wanted me to take another swing so I did.

Another notch now marred the wood and was quickly joined by another. And another.

I did not noticed when I began giggling like a psycho but I noticed it when the abused armor rack finally broke apart and my enthusiastic swings only cut through empty air.

I felt a slight lightheadedness as I stared at the ruined rack and the blade in my hand. The eyes of the Minion ornament were positively glowing now but the glow soon began to vanish until the eyes were lifeless again.

“Gnarl?” I asked carefully sheathing the blade “What did just happened?”

After a moment of thinking and a quick conversation with Welder in Minionesse, Gnarl clapped his claws and gave me a grin. “Well, it seems Milady that infusing your new blade with the essence of the Browns somehow enabled the blade to feed some of the Brown Minions appetite for battle and violence into you which each swing your Ladyship makes. Additionally, it seems like each successful blow is strengthening the actual impact, making the blade more devastating the more violence is used.”

Ah great, looked like I accidentally created a berserker blade of sorts. “And what’s with the psycho giggle?”

“If I had to venture a guess, I would say that this is a minor side effect of the Browns, ehrm, enthusiasm for battle and violence. But do not worry Milady, I am sure this will fade soon the more you use your new weapon.” My adviser voiced his thoughts.

“O~kay, if you say so Gnarl. You are the expert in magical things.” I eyed the inactive blade that rested safe and secure in its sheath.

“Of course. Only one thing left to do Milady.”

“And that would be?”

“Name your new weapon of course. Its tradition after all,” Gnarl proclaims, holding up a single clawed finger.

Naming my weapon sounded a bit cliché but hey, Gnarl was the expert. Besides, every piece of equipment the Overlord used had a name so why not? Unsheathing the blade again, I mustered it, watched the reflection of the light on its polished surface and recalled the strange giddiness I felt swinging it.

“I think I will call you… ‘Mayhem’,” I told the blade and I could have sworn that for the fraction of a second, I had seen that twinkle in the ornaments eyes again.

Author's Notes:

New chapter, more world building.

Looked over and improved by ArreClonClippo. He´s a dear.