Dark Lord in Chains 57 (Patreon)

Luckily, poor impulse control was not a trait of Dark Lords — well, at least the ones with any success to their name other than a pointless invasion of the borderlands — and I was able to resist the temptation to kill the blond asshole. 

Instead, I stayed behind him, concealed in the shadows, listening carefully. 

“Why are you doing this, Lancelot?” Isolde asked desperately. “We have already made so much progress. Another trip, and our mission will be complete.” 

“Then what?” Lancelot answered with a suddenness that betrayed his explosive anger. “Another mission? Another errand before we receive the promised reward? No reward, no riches, just another mission.” I would have sympathized with his anger more if he wasn’t already slated to marry with the only princess of the Empire, putting him in an excellent position to inherit the throne — or even usurp it if he was feeling impatient. 

It seemed that Lancelot wasn’t aware of the extremely lacking state of the treasury, which underlined just how little Sapphire actually trusted him. Not that it was an unfair move if his reaction, or his current status was any indicator. 

Ironically, his lack of attention on his fiancee had some important consequences — courtesy of me, their ever-helpful guest — had already made his hopeful career progression impossible. 

If he had known about his fiancee declaring her love for me, I would understand his reaction. However, Lancelot was yet to be aware of that development, which made his decision rash at best, though more likely, extremely suspicious. 

However, stopped paying attention to his whiny temper tantrum when he pulled his dagger. Not because of the threat it implied, as he was just swinging it around to underline his frustration. 

The dagger itself. 

It wasn’t a new dagger. He had been carrying that for a long time, including their successful assault to my castle which started the whole mess. However, since it was a side weapon, he had never it out, and considering it didn’t have a strong magical presence, I never paid particular attention to that. It was just an accessory, the kind nobles wore to a party to look dangerous without actually being so. 

The blade itself with covered in runes, runes that combined with a suspicious similarity to the wards of the throne room. 

Not suspicious, not at all. 

I didn’t suspect Lancelot of casting the wards, of course. Not only he had never shown any magical ability, but also, the wards in the palace were old, old enough to be cast when Lancelot was a mere child. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean there was no link between Lancelot and these wards. Like I needed something else to make that decision. 

On the positive side, it helped me to solidify my next action. So, when Lancelot stopped his angry rant about how it was unfair for Isolde to betray him — by not immediately following his betrayal against the Empire, though Lancelot seemed to unaware of the irony — and left the cell, leaving Isolde, I followed him rather than staying and talking with Isolde. 

Isolde was clearly unaware of the reasons, and even if she did, I doubted she would talk to me moments after her imprisonment. 

“You’ll understand soon,” Lancelot said before closing the door, though I had long sneaked into the corridor. I followed him deeper into the building, though this time, not shocked by the number of combat constructs filled the corridors, even though, the deeper we moved, the stronger they started to get. 

When he finally entered a large study, one that was occupied, I followed him, still wrapped in shadows. 

But the moment I stepped inside, the door slammed shut… 

Leaving me with locked with my heartbeat, rising enough to be qualified as panicking, a level that I hadn’t felt even when I was sitting in my throne room, with the full realization that I was under the combined assault of the dark families and the Empire.

The reason for my panic, naturally, wasn’t Lancelot. Unless he could gather his full party and receive the support of the Dark Families at the same time, he wasn’t a threat to me. 

Emma, who was also in the room, didn’t scare me either. 

Unfortunately, the same didn’t go for the third occupant of the room, the same I met in the palace, wearing the least convincing maid disguise I had ever seen, far too beautiful and confident to be even slightly convincing. 

What I didn’t realize was, compared to her true form, it had been an incredible disguise. 

Not because she was ugly or hideous. On the contrary, she was even more beautiful than her disguised form. Perfectly proportioned face, an amazing, flawless pale body underlining her beauty, contrasting greatly with her flaming hair. 

And by flaming, I just meant her hair was a beautiful crimson, not that her hair was actually currently burning. 

Which would have been a pedantic clarification in almost all circumstances, but considering her most striking figure was a pair of flaming wings behind her, it was a necessary clarification. And that wasn’t just a spell, but a part of her being. 

I skulked in the shadows even more, doing my best to let my magical presence melt into the shadows. 

For the first time in a long while, I was actually scared, because, with every flicker of flames of her beautiful wings of flame, power radiated into the room. And if that was what she was sitting lazily, I certainly didn’t want to see her true expression. 

However, even scarier, I had seen drawings of her kind, on the records Fyre Eternus, of one of the major dark families — one of the families I suppressed in order to become the dark lord. Those records weren’t supposed to be open to anyone outside the family, but I had managed to read by sneaking into their library. 

In particular, it was a part of their secret family history, explaining how they had been chosen by otherworldy godlike phoenixes, empowering them to rule the world. 

At that time, I had dismissed it, assuming that it was just a reason to give themselves a ridiculous reason to feel superior to others, and the drawings of beautiful people with flaming wings was either the imagination of an artist, or the trick of a competent mage, duping their gullible family members. 

But standing face to face with the real deal, that was quick to flow away. It was no trick, especially after I had already seen her using a disguise — and didn’t the excessive magical power of her maid disguise make sense in hindsight. 

She was the real deal. 

A phoenix. 

I did my best to stay pull the shadows around me even tighter as I repositioned slightly, my back against the door, just in case the worst happened and I needed to beat a hasty retreat. My fingers tightened around the hilt of the Blade of Shadows, relying on its unique magical nature to hide perfectly, while my left arm shifted slightly, positioning the Shield of Ether ready in case of a sudden burst of magic. 

Facing a being of magic that was supposed to be just a story or a part of ancient history, I was glad to have an accessory famous for resisting magic in my possession.  

I only halfheartedly listened as Lancelot give a report of his latest adventure — considering it was my own hideout, I knew everything he was explaining in the first place — instead of letting my gaze explore the room, recording the detail of the layout.

Including a glass of wine radiating a scary amount of mana.  

Of course, compared to two hulking armor behind her, their aura was strong enough to make me nervous even if there wasn’t a mystical being with wings of flame in front of them. Magical bodyguards, clearly, though the number of gemstones arrayed around their breastplate despite having no magical purpose was another interesting detail. 

Like the magical constructs weren’t expensive enough, they were also decorated with a veritable treasure. Just the gems were enough to multiply the current treasury of the empire. They were positioned as bodyguards, but with the power she was radiating, they were more like decorations. 

Pointless expensive decorations, even. 

And her confident laziness, her glare dismissive as she looked down on Lancelot who was continuing to explain the situation, suggested she was very much aware of that fact. 

I continued examining the room, including a bookcase filled with leather-bound books, promising some interesting secrets, a desk that was made from wood glowing with excess magic it contained, and other accessories. 

It was hard to read their magical functions due to the completely different magical tradition they were based on, of course, but just by their layout and relative strength, I could see that they weren’t designed for combat purposes, but for sheer visual impact. 

A rather interesting choice for a dangerous mission in the heart of the enemy, even with the power radiating off her. Yes, she was strong, significantly stronger than me, but not enough to fight against the whole capital, even with all her constructs. 

Or at least, that’s what I thought. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking. 

Meanwhile, Lancelot finished his detailed report of their adventure. Interestingly, an embellished version of the story that explained how he managed to cut through endless magical challenges bravely — with absolutely no mention of Isolde’s help, and more importantly, the detailed map I had drawn for them, making the challenge much simpler. 

 Since he was facing the other side, I wasn’t able to see his face, but his body language told me an interesting story. 

Apparently, our blond hero was trying to impress her, unaware of the dismissive nature of her gaze. I might have thought that it was his confidence that was making him ignore her lack of interest, but maybe it was his absolute lack of skill when facing women. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he had grossly misread the situation. 

Then, after he finished the explanation, the mysterious phoenix lady spoke. “So, you haven’t found the Core yet.” 

Of course, she was searching for the same thing that was in my possession, making me a target for a completely unknown player. 

Of course it was…