Overlord Rising

Two voices spoke. Uriel took a moment to catch her breath, before she looked up. Four Dark-Elves stood before her. Three wore armor and carried weapons, clearly soldiers. The fourth wore a robe adorned with some feather and a strange mask. Uriel could only assume either a sorceress or a witch. Both seemed rather plausible. They had the elven characteristics that often made people blush. Uriel would have as well, if not for the fact that she had seen much prettier before.

Taking her eyes off these elves for a second, Uriel looked at her body. She had no clothes on. However, shame was the last thing that concerned her. Lava dripped from her body. It still glowed and burned, yet it did not harm her skin. Turning her head, she found a large pool of molten rock and fire. It smoldered brightly, as a stench lifted from its fumes. Uriel was almost tempted to hold her breath.

She stared for a moment at the pool. Although she did not remember too much, she without a doubt had just swam and surfaced from that body of liquid fire. Uriel found herself riddled with questions.

"Are you well, my Overlord?" the female elf asked. She spoke in a rather pleasant and somewhat motherly tone.

"Overlord?" Uriel repeated. She looked around, wondering if the elf may have been addressing someone else. Apparently, she was the only other one who had emerged from the lava. Confused, Uriel pointed at herself and uttered. "M-me?"

"Yes," the female elf nodded. "You are Overlord."

Uriel shook her head. "Y-you are mistaken," she replied. She tried to think, but only a few words could come to mind, at the moment. "I am not the Overlord."

"No, you are," the female elf insisted.

Standing up, she took a deep breath and then gently blew. However, rather than a small puff of air, a mighty stream of wind exited the Dark-Elf's lips. Uriel closed her eyes, as flowed through her body. It felt chilly, almost like a kiss from the winter. The remaining lava on her body hardened into black, and then crumbled off her.

As soon as the lava had cooled and crumbled, the female elf turned to her companion in golden armor. "Lysander, give her your cape. We can't have her walk around n.a.k.e.d."

The one named Lysander did not respond immediately. He glared at Uriel for a short period, but did not wait to have the instruction repeated. Unclipping the cape from his mantle, he kneeled down and gently covered Uriel.

Wrapping the cape around herself, Uriel slowly stood up and wobbled. She found it oddly difficult. Something did not seem right with her legs. It felt as if she hadn't used them in a long time. Or rather, it felt as if this were the very first time that she used them, like a newborn infant that did not how to stand.

"Let us find you something more suitable to wear," the female Dark-Elf said. "Please follow me, my lady."

She walked past the three soldiers and led the way.

Uriel glanced at the elven warriors. Her sights shortly lingered at their weapons. Suspicion about the current situation gripped her c.h.e.s.t. Despite her suspicions, Uriel found herself with few options. For now, she had no choice, but to trust these elves.

Gathering whatever strength she could find in her legs, Uriel slowly followed after the female Dark Elf. The three soldiers trailed behind her like shadows.

Exiting the cavern, Uriel found herself walking through the halls of an enormous building. Uriel had been to many large castles and mansions before. Many of them had grand halls of splendor and magnificence, but very few made her actually stare with wide eyes, at the sheer height of the ceilings, as well as the very size of the very structure.

The architecture looked eerily familiar to some of the ruins she had come across, during her quests and journeys through Ebonus. Judging by halls' decorations of dust and cobwebs, as well as the unkempt appearance, the building must have been abandoned for quite a long period.

"Where am I?" Uriel asked, energy slowly returning to her voice.

"You are at the grand citadel of Nul Hunur," the female Dark-Elf answered, as she continued to lead the way.

"Nul Hunur?" Uriel uttered, losing a bit of breath from the name. Her eyes opened wide, traces of life filling them. She knew of the name. "If this is Nul Hunur, then that means I'm -!"

"At the very heart of Ebonus," the female Dark-Elf finished Uriel's sentence.

Uriel could hardly believe it. She was actually in Nul Hunur, the infamous citadel that stood deep in the forbidden realm of Ebonus. Many had claimed this place to be either a mere legend, or lost in the ravages of time.

She had ventured many times and travelled quite far into Ebonus. She had seen wonders and sights that made great tales for the bards and storytellers, but never before had she reached a place such as this. Kings and rulers would offer a price of two cities, just to learn the citadel's location.

Unfortunately, this revelation only elevated her suspicions. While she did not judge an entire race of people, Uriel did remember a series of rumors and stories regarding the Dark-Elves and their connection this citadel. Most, if not all, these stories portrayed these elves in a rather dastardly light.

As astonishing and vexing as this proved to be, Uriel steered away from the thought a little, and reorganize her memory. She recalled fire. Yes. Not too long ago, she rode through the valley and faced a dragon. It had mangled her body and consumed her with its flames. As soon, as the fire had passed, Uriel found herself swimming in the pit of magma.

How did she survive the attack? How did she arrive at this place? Did Dark-Elves bring her here through magic? If so, then what did they want from her? Uriel growled and gritted her teeth, as more questions than answers popped into her mind.

Uriel hated being left in the dark. From various experience, disaster fell upon those who lacked sufficient knowledge or information. She just wanted to explode and ask everything on the top of her head.

Fortunately, she knew better than to behave as such. Instead, she practiced patience. With a calm breath, she continued to follow to wherever the elf led her.

They soon arrived at a bed chamber. Uriel and the female Dark-Elf stepped inside, while the other three waited inside. Like the hallway, dust and cobwebs had taken over. However, the bedroom appeared to have a few more colors than just grey.

Shades of red and pink were found on the bed and curtains. The furniture also appeared more refined. This entire room didn't quite seem match the rest of the citadel. It felt as if they had stepped into somewhere entirely different. If anything, it reminded her of a male bordello that a few women once took her to.

"I would offer you a bath, but there isn't any hot water prepared," the female Dark-Elf mentioned, as she began going through one of the cabinets. "I will ready some later, but for now, we should clothe you."

"I… appreciate the gesture," Uriel replied, looking for a place to sit, before settling on the bed. "How may I address you?"

"I am Mycelia of the Ferro Matriarch House," she introduced. "Does my lady have a name?"

"I am Uriel Rakhmar," she responded.

Mycelia paused for a moment and stared forward. "Uriel Rakhmar," she repeated with a whisper. Her words hinted a sense of familiarity. The elf did not linger upon it for too long, as she continued looking through the cabinet. Eventually, she picked something out.

"Would you be fine with these clothes?" the elf asked, holding the attire up.

It appeared to be a rather fine and sleek dress of black silk, designed with a rather seductive appeal. It had no sleeves, and there was a cut that would have shown the c.h.e.s.t, and allowed the legs to easily appear.

Uriel fell silent. She glared at the dress, and then back at the cabinet. A number of the clothes in the wardrobe had similar, if not more suggestive, designs. Uriel herself didn't mind wearing such clothes. If anything, she favored such outfits, during particular occasions.

It would have been preferable to wear something more conservative, but compared to the other dresses in the cabinet, the dress appeared to be the tamest.

"It will suffice," Uriel sighed in defeat, as she took the dress.

"I apologize if it is not to your liking, my lady," Mycelia said. "Perhaps later we could find something more suited to your tastes; something fitting of an Overlord."

Those last words caught Uriel's attention. "Why do you keep calling me the Overlord?"

"Because that is who you are," Mycelia responded, as began helping Uriel into the dress. "According to the ancient texts, all Overlords arrive into this world from a lake of fire."

"Previous Overlords?" Uriel noticed the plural. "There used to be more than one?"

"I do not truly know just how many there were," Mycelia answered. "But there definitely were others before your predecessor."

"And you believe that I am the new Overlord, simply because I stepped out of that lava pool?" Uriel asked.

"Is that a common feat anyone is capable of?" Mycelia asked. She spoke with a calm and polite tone, but with a subtle hint of sharpness and humor.

Uriel opened her mouth to respond, but could not find the words to create an argument. She said no more, accepting the elf's logic.

"So, if I am the new Overlord, what is expected of me?" Uriel then asked. "Am I to raise a black banner and gather forces from every dark corner and plunge the world into chaos?"

"You are the Overlord, a being who has been bestowed great power and authority," Mycelia replied. "What you choose to do is entirely up to you. You may raise said armies to bring forth chaos, or unite for peace. It is your decision."

Uriel crossed her arms. "What if I choose to do nothing?"

"You won't," Mycelia smiled confidently. "You were given this power for a reason. I have no doubt that you would use it in some form or another."

Uriel sighed and then looked at her hands. Power and authority were two things she never strived for, but was often given. She was born under a wealthy house, became a prominent mercenary, and then a high-ranking knight. Now, she was an Overlord. It felt like a joke that had been repeated one too many times.

Before long, Uriel finished changing. The dress fitted her quite nicely, and proved to be one of the finer clothes that she had worn. Uriel turned, inspecting how well she could move. Unfortunately, it did reveal quite a bit of skin, but it did not hinder her movements at least.

"So what must I do now?" Uriel asked.

"Again, I do not have a proper answer," Mycelia said. "However, I do believe there is something that may require your attention. Please follow me."

The two of them soon stepped out of the room, and back into the hallway. There, they found a rather impatient-looking Lysander marching back and forth.

Lysander's ears twitched, as he turned his head and noticed the two exiting the room.

"Lady Mycelia, I believe we still have something important to finish discussing," Lysander hastily remarked. He focused firmly towards Mycelia. The captain noticed Uriel's clothes, but did not spare her much attention.

"Indeed, we do," Mycelia nodded. "Let us return to the throne room and settle the matter, WITH the Overlord."

Lysander finally turned his sights towards Uriel. His eyes opened with surprise, before dropping into a scowl.

"You cannot be serious." Lysander shook his head, trying desperately to contain his voice. "We already argued about this! The empire is in need of funds! We have no time to follow your vision!"

Mycelia cleared her throat. "The Overlord has returned, thus it is her permission you must seek, not mine."

Lysander's scowl grew deeper. The pressed muscles between his eyes and in his cheeks somewhat blemished his elven beauty. His red eyes began to glow, as if flames ignited in his sockets.

His hands slowly clenched into fists. Uriel didn't have any weapons and was not properly dressed for fighting, but if this Lysander made the first move, then she would have no choice but to step in.

Just when it looked as if things were finally going to get ugly, Lysander closed his eyes and then took a deep breath. He exhaled and looked at Mycelia with a more controlled expression.

"Very well," he growled. Tugging the edge of his cape, he left Mycelia. The two other soldiers quietly followed him.

Mycelia let out a small breath, and then turned back to Uriel. "This way, my lady."

Across more halls, Uriel soon arrived at the throne room. Again, Uriel found herself at awe by the sheer size. She had visited a few throne rooms before, but none as large or spacious as this one.

There, they found Lysander and several other Dark-Elf soldiers waiting for them. The soldiers all stood tall and ready. They remained perfectly still, almost like statues. Lysander, on the other hand, seemed restless. He walked back and forth like a starved wolf, waiting several days for its prey to appear. He no longer frowned, but continued to radiating with the same level of pleasantness from earlier.

"Your throne, my lady," Mycelia declared, presenting the seat.

Uriel could not help but glare at the throne. It had a very ominous and foreboding design to it. Despite the glossy frame, it looked as if several bones and skulls had been mangled and melted together, to form a throne. Just looking at it gave the impression of terror and misfortune.

Reluctantly, Uriel sat down. She positioned herself a bit, and then massaged the end of the armrests with her palms and fingers. Fortunately, it actually proved to be more comfortable than it appeared. It was by no means perfection, but it didn't seem as bad as Uriel expected it to be.

"Comfortable, my lady?" Mycelia asked.

"Surprisingly, yes," Uriel answered.

"Then I believe we can begin," Mycelia replied. Her sights turned to Lysander, who fidgeted on the spot. "This is Lysander, a captain of the Dark-Elf's Imperial army. He has come here today, hoping to acquire some treasure from the vault, to fund the defense against the dwarfs."

Uriel didn't say anything at first. It took her some time to absorb her position in the matter, as well as the information fed to her.

"So…," Uriel started. "For what reason are the dwarfs attacking you?"

"The grudge between our two races never healed," Lysander answered. "They're plotting to take some of our territory, for what had happened all those centuries ago. We require coin to pay mercenaries to-."

"Mercenaries?" Uriel could not help but interrupt. "Aren't you elves too proud to be relying on mercenaries?"

"It is not something that we wish to tell our descendants," Lysander replied. "However, due to certain… mistakes from our past, we are now forced to do this."

"My lady, I believe it would be in your best interest to provide them with what they need," Mycelia counselled.

The remark caught Lysander by surprise. "Now you're supporting the cause?" he asked. "Just moments ago, you were against us taking even a single coin from this place."

"I was against you taking it WITHOUT permission," Mycelia corrected firmly, before turning her attention back to Uriel. "My lady, we Dark-Elves may not be as strong as we once were, but we still can provide some kind of payment."

"We are NOT offering our allegiance to her," Lysander sneered.

Uriel leaned forward and gazed at the soldiers. Though they did not speak, they truly believed that she was the Overlord. Being a figure of authority was not a role that Uriel was so eager to play, but if she were indeed given such power and authority, then it would have been a great waste to simply do nothing with it.

It would have been a simple task to give them what they want, and ask for any reward. However, the cogs inside Uriel's head slowly turned.

While Uriel did not know all the details about the grudge between these two races, she knew that they remained quite hostile towards each other. Another big clash between the two races wouldn't have surprised Uriel in any way. What did catch her interest, however, was the timing. Why would the dwarfs want to attack now, of all times? What triggered it?

She looked deep into the eyes of the soldiers in front of her. Uriel either looked upon the greatest liars, or the most blissful of soldiers. The later wouldn't be have been surprising. Many rulers hid particular facts from their people. She knew this from experience. Some would have called it deception, but Uriel understood it as a necessary tactic. Closing her eyes, Uriel thought for a moment.

"My lady?" Mycelia asked, noticing the long period of silence.

Eventually, Uriel responded. "Captain Lysander, I will permit you to take a portion of what you need, for a price, of course."

Lysander growled with frustration. "What are you terms?"

Uriel held up three fingers. "While you elves may not be as talented as the dwarfs in the forge, I do understand that you're quite talented in imbuing items with magic. My first request would be a weapon embedded with mystical power."

The captain grimaced. Magical weapons of any kind had great value. Giving up one would be no different from surrendering a piece of the empire. However, he submitted.

"I will attempt to arrange something," Lysander growled, waiting for the second request.

"Second, I would need a little more information about this realm," Uriel continued. "Bring me a scholar who has studied this realm well."

"What about Lady Mycelia?" Lysander then asked. "She has been here for almost a century. I'm certain she could provide you with some knowledge."

Uriel had not thought of that. She was about to change her request, when Mycelia suddenly spoke.

"I may have been here for almost a century, but even my knowledge of this realm is limited," Mycelia replied. "I would only be able to answer a handful of questions, most only being about the citadel itself."

Lysander fell silent, but not for long. "Very well," he g.r.o.a.n.e.d. "And the final request?"

Uriel cleared her throat. "Bring me a dwarf," she then answered. "It doesn't have to be any dwarf, as long as it is sound of mind, healthy and can speak."

Lysander slightly jerked at this request. "For what purpose?" he asked.

"The purpose is none of your concern," Uriel snapped. "Return with these three requests, and I will let you take the rest of what you need."

Lysander did not answer immediately. His eyes shifted over to Mycelia, who simply replied with an unsure shrug. Biting his lip, Lysander grimaced and responded. "Very well, we shall give what you ask, Overlord…?" His pause turned into a question.

"Overlord Uriel," Mycelia answered.

"Uriel, as in Uriel Rakhmar?!" Lysander asked. Uriel answered with a quiet nod. Lysander's eyes sprung with life and shock. The soldiers began to speak and mumble with one another "You are Uriel, as in the Black Knight, the Reaper, the Scourge of the Sand, the-!"

"As much as I enjoy hearing my list of titles, I would prefer to hear your point," Uriel interrupted.

"M-my apologies." Those two words were the kindest things that Uriel heard from Lysander's mouth, so far. "It is just hard to believe who you are."

"And why is that?" Uriel asked.

"…You died, two years ago."