Most of those in the room were humans of a certain age, dressed in the simple robes of priests. That only served to make Mistress Lilith, for Grim was certain it must be her, stand out all the more. She wore a blood red dress that exposed her flesh in all the right places, while her lustrous black hair was allowed to fall to her bare shoulders. She paced slowly about the office, a presence that perhaps explained the diligent attitude of her staff. When she noticed the arrival of the elf and the ogre, her dark eyes flicked up and gazed at them. It was a gaze that spoke of power and the ability to see more than mere mortals. For while Lilith presented as a human, Grim was sure that she was, in fact, something else entirely.
‘You’re back,’ she said to the dark elf, understandably choosing not to use his name. ‘And you’ve brought someone—is that the right word? —else.’
‘Aye. Found them on the road to Fell Towers, all ready to meet the Dark Lord and sign up as a henchman.’
‘A henchman?’ Lilith repeated, turning her attention to Og-Grim-Dog. ‘Well, you look the part, that’s for sure.’ She shifted her gaze back to Simba. ‘Let me hear your report first, and then I will talk to your new friend.’
Lilith led Simba to a private room in the office, leaving Og-Grim-Dog to wait amongst the priests. Grim detected a slight change to the atmosphere in the room, a barely perceptible relaxing of tension now that their mistress was no longer hovering over them—though they still appeared to be working hard at whatever it was they were doing. Og peered surreptitiously over the shoulder of one of the priests, eyeing the scrawling lines of text on the page. Dog clutched at his belly. ‘I hope they’re going to feed us, whatever else they decide,’ he whispered loudly.
It wasn’t such a long wait before Simba exited Lilith’s room and told Og-Grim-Dog it was their turn.
‘It’s like being back at school,’ said Og, a nostalgic tone to his voice.
‘You went to school?’ asked the dark elf, a surprised look on his face.
‘Of course,’ said Og with a frown, before Grim entered Lilith’s room.
‘Shut the door,’ she instructed from behind her desk. ‘Take a seat,’ she added, gesturing to a leather chair large enough to take the ogre’s weight.
Grim manoeuvred himself into the chair, although Lilith remained standing on the other side of the desk.
She eyed the ogre for a while. ‘So, you’ve come to serve the Dark Lord?’
‘Yes. As a henchman,’ Dog specified.
‘Your name?’
‘Og-Grim-Dog. A name for each of our heads, if you get my meaning.’
Lilith gave a barely perceptible nod. ‘Why do you want to serve him? And how did you hear of our work here?’
‘Well,’ said Grim, ‘in truth, the idea was suggested to us, by one of the Dark Lord’s servants. Brother Kane, of Mer Khazer.’
‘Brother Kane?’ Lilith repeated, sounding intrigued. ‘What, he found you in a dungeon?’
‘We went dungeoneering with him,’ Grim answered.
‘You went dungeoneering with him?’ She seemed fond of repeating what someone else had just said. ‘I didn’t know ogres were allowed to go dungeoneering.’
‘We’re not, anymore.’
‘I see. Did you mention Brother Kane’s name to the dark elf?’
‘No,’ said Grim. ‘He said he was under cover, so we thought it best not to mention it to Simba.’
‘Simba?’
‘That’s what I decided to call the dark elf,’ Dog explained.
Lilith gave Dog a smile. ‘Well, aren’t you the clever one?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, going a little red.
‘The fact that you didn’t reveal Kane’s name to…Simba, is a good sign. I asked the dark elf to wait for us. He’ll take you downstairs to get dinner. When the Dark Lord is ready, he will ask to speak to you. Of course, he has the final say on recruitment.’
Grim got to his feet.
‘Thank you,’ Dog gushed. Grim wasn’t sure if it was simply down to the offer of food, or whether his brother had taken a bit of a shine to the Dark Lord’s adviser.
Lilith held out a hand and awkwardly, since it required the co-operation of his brothers, Dog bent over, took her hand in his, and gave it a kiss. They left the room. Sure enough, Simba was leaning against a wall, waiting for them. The dark elf pushed himself upright and led them off, back down the curving stairs of the keep to the lower level, and then through to the refectory.
It was a large and busy place. Rows of tables and benches filled the centre of the room, while around the sides were serving counters. It was full of menials. Menials sat and ate; menials queued, waiting to be served; menials dished out the food. Grim began to get a sense of just how many servants lived and worked here.
Simba led them to the queue, from where he grabbed a tray for himself and one for Og-Grim-Dog, which Dog quickly grabbed. Og beckoned with a finger. Understanding, Simba passed him a second tray.
‘Come on,’ said the dark elf. ‘We have pushing in rights.’
It is not really exaggerating to describe the refectory of Fell Towers as heaven for Og-Grim-Dog. At every service counter, they were allowed to ask for whatever, and as much, as they liked. They piled their trays with cuisine from every part of Gal’azu and beyond: roast dinners from the Free Cities; dwarven cold cuts; spiced curries from the Barbarian east; halfling one-pots; pastas and breads from the Kuthenian Empire; seafood from the Pirate Isles. Og even considered trying elven salad.
When their trays were so precariously balanced that they feared dropping what they had gathered, they joined Simba at one of the tables. His eyes bulged somewhat at the sight of their dinner.
‘So, tell us about your recent mission,’ Grim prompted the dark elf. That way, Simba could do all the talking and they could concentrate on the eating. That would mean better odds of his brothers shovelling some of the food his way.
‘I was sent to make contact with the Barbarian Resistance. I managed to establish a relationship with a cell in the town of Mer Khazer.’
Grim, Og and Dog looked at one another. Their friend Assata was a member of that cell. If their mouths hadn’t been so full, one of them might have said something they perhaps shouldn’t.
Grim swallowed his mouthful of shrimp, roast beef, curried lamb, tuna pasta, cold chicken and pork casserole. ‘Why does the Dark Lord wish to help the Resistance?’ he asked carefully.
Simba shrugged. ‘They could help to destabilise the Kuthenian Empire.’ He looked at three uncomprehending ogre faces. ‘The Kuthenians have the most powerful realm in Gal’azu. If the Dark Lord is going to take over the world, he’ll need to destroy the Empire.’
Og-Grim-Dog relaxed. That made sense. They finished the rest of their dinner in peace. They had just begun to discuss seconds when a menial approached their table.
‘Yes?’ Simba asked the helmeted figure.
‘A message from the Dark Lord for Og-Grim-Dog. He is ready to see you.’
A Job Interview with The Dark Lord
Og-Grim-Dog followed the menial out of the refectory. Instead of heading to the main gates of the stronghold, the menial led them to an alternative exit to the fortress. A postern gate at the rear of Fell Towers opened onto sheer cliffs, from where Grim could see and smell the ocean, and hear the waves crashing down below. He found it surprising that the Dark Lord allowed them to see this secret entrance into his stronghold. Perhaps it signified that he trusted them. Or perhaps, the Dark Lord was extremely cavalier about his security.