The Dark Lord Bert by Chris Fox

Author:Chris Fox [Fox, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chris Fox Writes LLC
Published: 2019-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

21

The White Tower

Kit found the day after the death of the dark lord a strange one. The party scoured the entire tomb searching for loot, but found surprisingly little that they could sell. The Kount had a love of books, which Kit appreciated, but apparently not of gold. Whatever treasure had been here had, presumably, been behind the throne and now belonged to the mysterious thief.

Kit fervently hoped that thief was Bert, as the mere idea of the goblin having that amount of money to spend was hilarious. The idea that he might have the dark lord trope was a good deal less so. What if he sold it to a merchant, who sold it to someone smart enough to understand how powerful it was? What if he followed another adventuring party, and someone like White got ahold of it?

She needed to find Bert, but before she could do that Kit needed to tend to a gigantic problem. A problem so gigantic that ‘Master White’ was having trouble fitting it through doorways. That problem, of course, was his ego.

Kit strode into the throne room, where White had been spending most of his time. He lounged there now, thumbing through one of several necromantic tomes they’d recovered from Kount. White glanced up at her entrance, his robes even more badly stained than they’d been before. If anything they were more brown now than white, and in the right light could pass for black.

“Ah, Kit, you came.” White threw his leg over the arm of the throne, a blatant ‘look at me and how powerful I am’ kind of move. “Please, stand in the corner and do not speak.”

Kit was used to White’s outrageous requests, and stifled her trope’s impulse to verbally flay the bastard. Doing so would only make her situation worse. “Why did you invite me here if you don’t want my counsel? I thought this was a meeting to decide the fate of the tomb. I helped you clear it. I have a say in what happens to it.”

“No, you don’t.” White rose from the throne, and ambled over to her, a condescending smile slipping into place. He waved a finger directly under her nose, but Kit stood her ground. “You have no say. No opinion. Not of worth, anyway. Brake and I have called the OLP here to decide, collectively, what is to be done with this place. You don’t use white magic. You have no place in that decision.”

“So again,” Kit growled, as her nails dug into her palms. If only she could afford to offend this bastard, “why did you ask me here?”

“Oh.” White seemed to relax, and returned to his throne. “I asked you here to provide refreshments. The Kount kept a fully stocked larder. If any of the wizards require butterbeer, or wine, or hash hish or what have you, then you will procure it. The Kount kept an impressive collection. Apparently he was quite the connoisseur.”

Again, Kit forced a deep breath. How had she been so badly outmaneuvered? When they’d began this, White had just been another party member.

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