Eliezer Yudkowsky - Dark Lord’s Answer

Dark Lord's Answer

By Eliezer Yudkowsky

This was my first attempt at writing in the Japanese light novel style, before I decided that it wasn't enough fun and I needed to be sillier. (It's not about Professor Quirrell. Sorry, but it's not. )

"Dark Lord's Answer" is only halfway to being in the light novel style, compared to "A Girl Corrupted by the Internet is the Summoned Hero? !" This writing is denser and less humorous. You might perhaps decide that this novella carries more of the vitamin of insightor maybe not; I don't know.

If you don't like the first four chapters, I'd say to give up there.

Content warnings: Sexual abuse, economics.

The Black Castle

The dark castle gleamed like blackened steel beneath the sun, rising up from the edge of a cliff at the end of a long winding road. Before us were fields of dark flowers that I hadn't seen before, as if the master of that terrible castle had emitted a miasma and polluted the light and essence of ordinary flowers. The road to the castle seemed to be paved in bricks, instead of ordinary stones; black bricks, angled and ominous.

Truly, this is an abode of the Dark Lord.

The Royal Guards of our small caravan were all muttering as we came closer. Even the Commander seemed apprehensive.

I signaled Commander Brima to bring our company to a halt. The Commander looked puzzled, because she knew it's not as if I'd go this far and then turn back.

I stepped down from the horse I was riding, securing my sword on my hip where I could draw it more easily.

"I'll go on ahead," I said, "so you can just wait for me here."

"Prince Nama!" cried a guard, and then"Prince Nama!" cried another. Commander Brima didn't look relieved.

"Surely" began the Commander.

"It's not as if you can protect me from anything," I told her. "If the Dark Lord wants to kill me, he'll kill me whether you stand in the way or not." I'd taken companions to protect me from bandits along the way, not to throw their lives away against the Dark Lord on his throne.

Besides, the Dark Lord requires supplicants to approach him alone, without any companions. Commander Brima should know that, so in the end, she was having the type of concern that didn't respect the obvious facts.

The dark flowers that had been planted in strips by the side of the road gave off a pleasing scent. Despite the castle's approaching shadow, the sun remained bright in the sky. That light warmed the exposed skin of my face, and raised a baked-brick scent from where it struck the paved road.

I'd say this weather would be a fine hurrah for my life's last day, but in truth I have no sentiment like that.

Then what am I even doing in the Dark Lord's domain?

Well, the answer is that my country has a need.

You wouldn't expect that a man of such great power and wickedness would be in the business of helping any person who requested it. But whether it makes any sense or not, that's the reputation the Dark Lord has: If you approach the Dark Lord for help, he'll give you an answer and your goal will be achieved. The price might be that his instruction says to discard your honor and give up whatever else might have come of your life.

If you ask the Dark Lord how to deal with a corrupt duchess, he might give you a poison to slay her; that's rumored to have happened that one time. To put it another way, he's like an ancient wisewoman who lives in a high mountain cave and speaks in riddles, except that he's a villainous lord. In the few years since the Dark Lord became known to the world, he had already gained that reputation.

My boots clopped over the black brick road until I came to the gates of the castle. I don't think it would come as any surprise that those gates were also black.

The gates were already open. No one came forth to meet me.

As I approached the gates, I saw a long black-stone corridor stretching ahead. It was windowless, lit only by a long line of lamps which burned with a clearer, whiter flame than the finest candle.

I walked into that long corridor without hesitating. Certainly, this act was a gamble which had its downsides, but I didn't let that down slow my legs. Once you've committed to a motion, you have to follow through; if it's something that has the potential for disaster, then flinching while you do it won't be any less disastrous. An ambiguous situation isn't something you can resolve by halfhearted actions. So I was taught by my Mother, the Queen.

There were many metal doors in that corridor, all of them closed. I tried none of them, since that would have been foolish.

At the end of the passage I came to a great metal double-door of white metal that gleamed like silver, though I doubted it could possibly be silver. . .

Unless that double-door was worth as much as a city. So that white metal couldn't be silver.

I lifted the knocker set into the door, and knocked three times. The dull clonking sound didn't seem like it would travel, but soon after there was a groaning noise, and the double-doors swung open.

The throne room I beheld had windows, high above, but with a black floor and black walls even the Sun couldn't do much here. The only touch of color in the room came from the strangely white light of fires swinging in pots that descended from the ceiling.

At the end of the room, a great black throne, with two great black horns branching out from it.

Upon that mighty throne sat a gargantuan figure whose chest was clothed in black metal chain-armor and whose arms and legs and face were bare. The saying, 'his muscles have muscles', might have been invented to describe him alone. From the cast of that man's eyes and nose, it seemed that he was a Ruli horse-nomad by birthor maybe a Ruli halfbreed, since the Ruli don't have a reputation for sagacity. His expression, as he gazed down at me, gave an impression of supreme arrogance, or rather confidence. Truly, this is the Dark Lord of whom the tales speak.

Behind his throne were various lieutenants with their own armor and weapons, giving cool gazes to me, as if to say, 'our lord could break you with one hand, but we are here to spare him that effort'.

Also attached to that throne, by a black chain leading up to her slave collar, was a pale-skinned young woman with reddish-brown hair and downcast eyes. The flesh of her body was thick and round like a statue of a fertility goddess, not much concealed by a scanty amount of translucent red cloth. If I hadn't been fearing for my life just then, I would have needed to suppress a squeaking sound. Sights like that aren't ever seen in my home country; I can't imagine that even a prostitute would dress like that, and she was more beautiful than any prostitute.

I walked down the long black carpet that led up to the throne, and knelt upon one knee, gazing up at the Dark Lord. There had been no talk in that throne room since the doors had opened for me, and a solemn air pervaded.

The Dark Lord spoke, a deep voice filled with strength. "What is your name?"

"Prince Nama of Santal," I replied, keeping my own voice firm.

"What is your question?" the Dark Lord said next.

"My country is ill," I said, matching his gaze with my own. "Something has turned wrong. The people are going hungry and the fields are poorly tilled, the nobles' ventures are failing and their estates are going bankrupt, the shopkeepers have no wares and laborers sit idle in the streets. No one seems to know anything about why this is happening to us, whether it's a curse or a conspiracy. My mother's advisors all give her contradictory advice, and none of it ever seems to help. How can my country be made healthy again?"

The Dark Lord frowned down at me. "Say more."

"I don't know what more to say," I said. I kept my voice in check, not expressing any of the frustration and failure that had driven me across countries to the throne of the Dark Lord himself. "The country of Santal is perishing and nobody knows the source."