Ash and wind whipped through the air as two dark shapes thundered across the wasteland.
Lucien and Groth atop their mighty steeds, galloping with devastating grace over scorched earth and blackened stone. Bugatti snorted fire and sparks with every step, her flaming mane trailing like a comet across the sky. Beside him, General Groth, her black armor catching glints of twilight flame as her warhorse kicked up clouds of cinders and her oversized greatsword slung across her back like a badge of defiance.
Above them, wings spread and hair fluttering, Serenith flew in smooth silence, keeping pace as her robes fluttered like banners in the wind.
The wind roared, but Lucien spoke clearly. "Status report, Groth. How's our subjugation coming along?"
Groth adjusted the enchanted reins of her mount. "We've secured all the towns along the eastern border. Minimal resistance. Most surrendered the moment they heard you were back. Word is spreading fast. No one dares to challenge the Demon Lord."
Lucien clicked his tongue. "Pity. I was hoping for some resistance. I'm eager to try out a little diplomacy. See what politics are like out here in the ashlands."
Groth snorted. "Try it on the dragon."
Lucien blinked. "It's a wild animal, Groth. Not exactly dinner conversation material."
Groth turned her head slightly, a single golden braid trailing behind her helm. "You might be surprised, my lord. Dragons are just as intelligent, if not more, than most sentient beings. You could try talking it out of the mountain. Though…"
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Though?"
Groth shrugged. "The only reason an elder dragon would nest deep in a mountain like this is if it's protecting a hoard. A treasure hoard."
Lucien's eyes lit up like a child spotting his birthday cake.
Groth continued, unaware of the chaos she was sowing. "And dragons never part with their hoards. Not even under threat of death. You'd have better luck separating a newborn from its mother."
Lucien grinned. "You're telling me I have a chance to sweet-talk a dragon out of a mountain of treasure?"
Groth shook her head. "I'm telling you it's impossible."
Lucien cackled, flames dancing in his eyes. "I've smooth-talked gods, Groth. What's one overly possessive lizard?"
Serenith swooped in close, her expression stern. "You're powerful, Lucien. Sly, charming, and insufferably good at getting your way. But you're not immortal. There are creatures on this world that can kill you. Dragons are at the top of that list."
Lucien waved a hand. "I'll be careful. I'd never do anything to jeopardize asset number one."
Hours later, they reached the base of the black-cragged mountain. A sprawling mining operation buzzed with cursed energy. Tents, cranes, scaffolds, glowing ore carts, and veins of magma-like stone pulsing with corrupted magic.
Above the chaos flew a squadron of succubi in dominatrix gear, barking orders and lashing whips at shirtless, muscle-bound laborers. One screamed from the air: "Work harder or Lord Lucidius will personally incinerate your balls!"
Lucien winced. "Okay. That's it. I definitely need to establish a Royal HR Department… and a PR Division while we're at it. I'm not trying to be the evil kind of evil."
Groth chuckled as they rode along the perimeter toward a cluster of stone buildings. "You'll need a bureaucracy if you want a sustainable dictatorship."
"Empire," Lucien corrected with a grin. "Mine's gonna have sewers and social benefits."
They stopped outside the mine's administration hub. Lucien kissed Bugatti on the snout and dismounted, his cloak fluttering.
A bored guard slouched at the door, barely glancing up. "Foreman's not seeing anyone. He's—"
Lucien stepped into the light.
The guard blinked.
Then he screamed, tripped, and nearly impaled himself on his own spear. "M-my lord! Apologies, my lord! Right this way!"
Inside, the room was chaos.
Stacks of scrolls, crates of reports, and ledgers filled every surface. At the eye of the storm sat a short, bespectacled half-demon woman with wild curls and an even wilder panic in her eyes. She mumbled furiously, tearing through documents.
"I swear, if production doesn't go up, he's going to behead us all! Why does he need so much ore all of a sudden? For what, a throne made of swords and gold!?"
Lucien casually dropped into the chair across from her, legs crossed. "Not a bad idea, actually."
The woman shrieked and flailed backwards, only to dive back into her work. "I don't have time for weird noble cosplayers, I'm trying to not die, so if you could kindly—"
Serenith floated in, arms crossed.
Groth ducked inside behind her, greatsword thumping to the floor.
The forewoman glanced up.
First Groth. She gulped.
Then Serenith. She yelped.
Then Lucien. She shrieked,
"Please don't kill me! I'm valuable! I swear I'm valuable!"
Lucien sighed dramatically and leaned forward. "That's not a very polite way to greet your Lord."
Sniffling. Then crawling. Then sobbing. She emerged between his legs, clinging to his knees, nose running.
"Please! Don't execute me! I'm efficient! I only cry during breaks!"
Lucien chuckled. "Groth, gather the workers. I want to make an announcement."
Groth saluted and stepped out.
Lucien returned his gaze to the trembling woman and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
She yelped.
He laughed and reached down, gently taking her hands. "What's your name?"
"S-s-Sila…" she hiccupped.
"Well, Sila," he said, helping her up and brushing the dust off her shoulders, "you're adorable. But I bet you'd look even better without the tears."
She flushed crimson.
He lifted her onto the desk, set her down gently, then leaned back in his seat with a confident grin.
"Now… give me the 101. Who are you, what do you do, and why is my mining operation run by a woman on the verge of spontaneous combustion?"
Sila gulped. "I'm the senior administrator for this site. I've managed this mine for seventy-three years. It's been practically dead for the last century… only sporadic activity during wars."
Lucien nodded. "That tracks. I'm rebuilding a nation."
She shuddered. "A month ago, we started getting massive orders. We had to ensla… um… recruit people from all across the ashlands to keep up. We just opened a deep vein overflowing with ore and gems. But…"
"But?" he leaned in, smiling.
"There's a dragon. An elder one. Ancient. Smart. Arrogant. Won't leave. We've lost thirty workers trying to breach the lair."
Lucien leaned back, cackling. "Smug, proud, and stubborn. Sounds like you're describing me."
Sila giggled nervously.
He clapped his hands and stood, startling her again.
"Relax. You're head of mining now. An integral part of my empire. We're going to be great friends."
Serenith snorted. "Careful, Sila. All his female friends end up in his bed."
Sila gasped. Her eyes sparkled. "R-Really?!"
Lucien winked.
Sila swooned.
Serenith groaned.
Outside, the murmurs of a crowd grew louder. Below, hundreds of miners, overseers, and laborers waited, packed into the massive yard, dirty, tired, and murmuring with curiosity.
From the railing, he gazed down into the yawning pit of the mine. Hundreds of workers and succubi overseers moved through scaffolds and tunnels. All dirty, tired, and murmuring with curiosity.
Lucien emerged onto a high platform overlooking the mine.
He clapped his hands.
A deep BOOM echoed through the quarry like thunder. Everyone froze.
Heads turned.
Gasps echoed.
Whispers rippled like wind through grass.
"That's him…"
"The Demon Lord…"
"He's beautiful…"
Lucien turned to Serenith with a grin.
She sighed, then smiled and rolled her eyes.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she said, arms crossed. "Go on… blow their minds."