"This is meant to be a celebration," I remarked as I drank deep from my goblet. "Why aren't you celebrating?"

The official decree of Nolwud's promotion to successor had concluded. The worms had been called in from the furthest reaches of my kingdom to gather beneath the palace windows. They would know the Technologist's face and scent. They would know who would follow in my footsteps. And, I had thought, they would rejoice.

There were several emotions expressed, none of which I equated with jubilation. The Technologist sat glumly at my feet atop the throne platform stairs, peering into the wine as a somber servant poured it out. Painyll stood in the corner, apart from his cushions in a rare occurrence, sulking with envy. His guards eagerly partook in the refreshments, taste being a sensation they could still experience. The worms were quiet and accepting. They did not cheer. They did not wiggle. They did not behave with the adulation shown when I murdered Revergnols. You would have thought I had delivered a eulogy.

"But why Technologist Nolwud?" sputtered Painyll indignantly, ignoring my inquiry. "You don't like Technologist Nolwud. You can't make someone you don't like your successor."

"Personal feelings are not important when assigning a successor," I said. I hated Revergnols and Revergnols hated me. It hadn't prevented my role as successor. I kept my response vague. I didn't want the worms aware of the true scope of the situation. As far as they knew, I had decided everything upon a whim, that the Technologist had come to me whining about the need to appoint a successor and I had turned it back on the Technologist. You want a successor? Then you can be it.

It was straightforward. It seemed feasible and likely. The worms would believe it because it was the only truth they would be given.

"I don't want to be your successor," said Nolwud, swishing the goblet. "Not like this."

"Don't be so apprehensive," I jeered, holding my goblet out for more. "The worms are going to misinterpret your nervous elation for genuine unhappiness."

Nolwud glared as Painyll remarked, "Technologist Nolwud is unhappy. Did you not hear what--"

"Lordavis knows," said Nolwud. As Painyll made to ask, the inventor clarified, "It's a lie for the worms. Lordavis is the only one they understand. Lordavis is misleading them so they believe this is what I want."

Painyll glanced from Nolwud to me. "Yes, but why?"

"I'm trying to determine that presently."

I beamed and raised my latest refreshment in toast. "Well put, Dramatist. Although I don't think the Technologist appreciates your jokes. Poor Nolwud is already overcome with the great honor I've bestowed."

Rott, previously curled beside the throne, found his way into my lap and pressed his head to my chest. I pushed him back. My liege.

"You want some wine, Rott?" I prodded. The deception went both ways. "Here. I'll give you some of mine."

My liege, you were trying to kill the inventor the other day. Now you have declared the same inventor your successor. The worms are concerned about you.

"And elated," I smiled disarmingly. "This is exactly what you wanted, of course. That's to be expected."

We want you, my liege. We love you.

"You have a funny way of showing it," I replied coolly, dropping the act for a brief moment. "You ought to appreciate what I've done for you. I might have left you to the mercy of another kingdom."

We don't want you to die, said Rott. Even if your death did not bring an end to all things, we would want you to choose a successor with care. You are the only ruler we want. To arbitrarily claim the inventor as successor has us worried for your health.

"Oh, here, you silly worm," I chuckled as though having a light conversation with the annelid. I put my goblet in his mouth. "Drink up!"

Nolwud and Painyll exchanged looks

I waved to a servant. "This is a celebration. We must have entertainment. Bring in the prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” Nolwud's head tilted. “We have a prisoner?”

“Oh, yes.” I aped as though it slipped my mind. “She was poking around in the Marketplace last night. The worms brought her to me.” No doubt the trespasser was meant as a peace offering to regain my acknowledgment. At that point, the worms were unaware of my plans for the Technologist. “They're very good worms.”

Painyll choked, “'She'?” The guards set aside their drinks and moved to cover him. “Did you say 'she'?”

“Yes,” I exasperated. “I did. Don't worry. The horrid female is not going to do anything to you.” Then, “Although I imagine you're the reason she's here.”

“Where is this one from?” asked Nolwud. "Have you determined?"

“Fourmikari,” I spat. “I didn't need to ask. I know the lineage. I assume she wanted to act for personal gain before an official decision was reached on the poet.” I waggled a finger at the inventor. “I told you this would happen.”

“This is what we want,” said Nolwud.

“You want me to take prisoners?”

“I'd prefer it to killing, yes.” The inventor sighed. “And you know what I mean. This shows that Fourmikari recognizes the value in Painyll and the value in our kingdom.” I almost corrected that it was not Nolwud's kingdom. Things were different henceforth. This was my successor. Of course it was our kingdom. I had to go along with it. The next remark surprised me. “Do you have a plan to ransom her back?”

“Ransom her back?” What a notion!

“Yes.” said Nolwud. “You have grounds to keep her as your prisoner. I'm sure Fourmikari would want to ensure her safe return. Given that you've already killed--”

“We're not talking about that,” I interjected. In hindsight, I decided that perhaps I should mention it. To her.

“Well, anyway, she's a valuable prisoner. I think you ought to make her imprisonment known sooner rather than later. I will send a missive to Fourmikari. Think about what demands you'd--” Again the Technologist stopped before completing the sentence. “Knowing you, you don't want anything short of their destruction, right?”

I smirked.

“I'll think of some demands,” amended Nolwud. “Something befitting a competent tyrant. We'll do wonders for your reputation.”

“Must we keep her here?” whined Painyll.

“Yes,” said Nolwud and I in annoyed unison.

The prisoner was shepherded into the throne room, her attire befitting the noble garments of her position, as was to be expected. She fidgeted nervously despite the way she towered over the worms that surrounded her. I had bound her in the necessary manner. She was not going to go anywhere. She didn't speak, looking around the room at the gathered worms, myself, Nolwud, and then Painyll. She lifted her head when her eyes fell upon him. “It's true!”

“My liege!” screeched Painyll as his gaze met hers. “She's trying to seduce me!”

“Shut up, Painyll,” I growled. I took more wine. I needed something in me to keep up the celebratory mood.

Nolwud descended the platform and approached with amicable intent. “Hello. My name is Nolwud. Who are you?”

The prisoner gave the Technologist a once over. She did not reply.

“Answer the question or I'll make you regret it,” I commanded.

“Hey,” snapped Nolwud. “I'm not going to force her to talk to me if she doesn't want to.”

“Answer the question,” I said again. I added, for her edification and to emphasize for the worms, “Nolwud is my successor. Show some respect.”

That received a reaction. “What? You have no successor. Everyone knows that!”

“What do you imagine this is?” I gestured to the room and out the windows. “Why do you think they congregate?” I drummed my fingers upon my throne arm. “Why do you think I've dragged you out of your cell? This is a celebration to honor Nolwud's latest achievement.”

“For the record,” Nolwud insisted. “I didn't ask for this.”

“Nolwud isn't from Fourmikari,” I lilted, sipping my drink. That set her off!

“Yes, I can see that!" She shook with rage, eyes wild. "What are you thinking?”

Lectured by a prisoner. How adorable and yet so unfortunately familiar. I gave Nolwud a sideways glance before returning to her. “I was thinking that I couldn't possibly leave my kingdom to someone of Fourmikari lineage. I was thinking it was rather fortuitous that fate sent this one my way.”

My liege. Rott was unheard by the others. Is that the reason you've chosen the inventor? There was no other reason?

“To make you happy,” I reassured sweetly. He relaxed, placated by the excuse. Worms were simple creatures.

Painyll was likewise relieved and perhaps even more simple. “I should have realized. A foreign vassal with no qualifications? There's the catch.”

Nolwud frowned. “I'm a university educated scientist. I have qualifications.”

“I'm more suitable to rule than you,” countered Painyll.

“Perhaps,” suggested the prisoner, taking a step towards the poet. “Together we might--”

Painyll panicked. “My lieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeege!” The guards pointed their glaives at the startled prisoner. I laughed boisterously from the wine and my amusement.

“It's fine,” said Nolwud, moving between the female and Painyll. “She's not going to do anything.”

“Get her out of here!” Painyll quivered, hugging the backs of his guards. He entreated me once more. “My liege!”

“She's here to liven things up,” I said. “None of you were doing anything.”

The prisoner made a face. “I'm not here to please you.”

“No,” I agreed. “You're not. I would kill you if it wasn't that I imagine you've made your intentions to come here known.”

“Yes,” she said, smug and haughty. “I told several others I would pay you a visit. They've no doubt noticed my absence and will come for you!”

“Therein lies why you must please me,” I beamed. “I'm only required to keep you alive. Anything beyond that is a courtesy you must earn.”

“I'm not some mere servant to order around,” quipped the prisoner.

“There's a thought!” I clapped my hands together. “Bring me more wine!”

“Lordavis,” said Nolwud.

“Give our esteemed guest the bottle,” I called to the worm with the current bottle of wine. “She's going to attend to me.”

“This is a clear abuse of power,” the inventor attempted to argue.

“She is my prisoner. I will make use of her as I like.” I leaned back in my seat. “I am ruler and I can order those in my kingdom as I like.”

“I won't,” the prisoner stated firmly. She folded her arms. “I'd rather go back to the dungeon.”

I shot her feet with a bolt of lightning. She scampered quickly to collect the wine bottle. “Over here. I'm waiting.” I shook the goblet. The prisoner climbed up with a limp from the electricity and did as I asked. “And what do you say?”

It wounded her deeply to bend to my will but she preferred it to further violence. “Anything else, my liege?”

“Very good,” I purred. With a mischievous intent, I ordered, “Now pour some wine for Painyll.”

The poet cried out. “My liege! Keep her away from me!”

“This is a celebration,” I reiterated. “You're not celebrating. We can fix that.” I snapped my fingers, pointing at the cowering wretch and his sentinels. “Wine to him. Now.”

Seething and wise enough to keep it inside, the female attended to the poet despite his loud protests. It was ever so entertaining. Nolwud joined me at my side as the chaos unfolded. “You can't actually hurt her, you realize.”

“Why not? It seems to have done the trick.”

“If the plan is to ransom her, she ought to be in decent shape.”

“That's your idea,” I reminded.

Nolwud's tone and expression were flat. “What was your idea?”

I tapped my jaw. “I'm certainly not giving her back.”

Nolwud looked to see if we were being heard. Content our conversation was private, the Technologist whispered, “Keeping her against her will would go beyond your authority.”

“My authority for what? Did you not hear me? I am ruler of the Kingdom of Ever-Worms. She's come here of her own volition. It's my decision what happens here on out.”

“Then why not kill her,” suggested Nolwud sarcastically. “You can't follow convention one minute then decry it the next.”

I didn't see why not. I would do exactly as I wanted when I wanted. “Can't I?”

Nolwud knew the disagreement was lost. “You shouldn't.”

“When you're in charge of my kingdom,” I sniped. “You can run it how you like.”

Nolwud considered. “There you go again. Your plan isn't to stick around for the aftermath. Your plans stop once Fourmikari is gone. You haven't thought this through.”

“I'm glad you see it my way,” I said, lest Rott glean the nature of the conversation.

“How is that fair to the worms?” needled Nolwud. "How does that serve their needs?"

“They have you,” I replied. I marginally disguised my bitterness. "They like you."

“Not if the creature in your heart devours the world.” The Technologist placed hands upon hips. “I'm trying to work out your grand scheme here. Is making me successor supposed to entice me to double my production? Is it meant to be a tantalizing reward?”

“It would help if you would look upon it that way, yes.”

“Are you planning to cede your throne while alive?” A pointed question. I shrugged. It was the answer Nolwud anticipated. “If my succession depends on you being dead yet you being dead means the end of the world...”

“I will keep my promise,” I said. “If you keep yours.”

Nolwud ruminated. “Do you have control over it? How can you say that?”

“No,” I said. “I'm nothing more than a vessel. I have no control.”

My liege? Rott fretted. He placed his head against me again to listen for the scratching. It does concern your heart.

“No, it doesn't. This is unrelated.”

“What is your end goal, Lordavis?” inquired Nolwud. “You say I'm difficult to figure out but you're no better. You claimed Nova for the worms but have no qualms lying to them and promising them a fantastic future you're never going to let them see because your story ends with Fourmikari. You promise them a successor yet you know for a fact there will never be a successor because your death is the ultimate end.” Nolwud gnawed upon knuckle. “This revenge of yours, I don't see it playing out how you do. When Fourmikari goes, you go. And when you go, so does existence.”

I finished my wine and set my goblet aside. Such an amount in a short period of time was causing me a headache. “That is the rumor.”

Nolwud's head tipped. Spectacles were readjusted. “You're saying that's not the case?”

I rose, Rott slithering around my shoulders to travel along. “You are my successor. Can't that be enough? Your vassals in your home kingdom will be astounded by your quick rise to power.”

“I don't want to be your successor unless you tell me exactly what you're up to,” said the Technologist. “It's all well and good for you to conceive another plot but not if I'm kept in the dark.”

“Hm.” I didn't respond. Instead, I motioned to the prisoner and Painyll as I took my leave. “You do whatever you want with her, short of letting her go. Send her back to the dungeon when you're done.”

“Where are you going?” Nolwud called.

“To sleep off some of the alcohol. I daresay I had to celebrate for everyone.”

I was half-expecting to find the prisoner awaiting a position in my court when I awoke. She sat alone in her cell, staring at the stone wall. I entered with an apple, making my presence known by taking a loud bite. Dark eyes turned my way. “Can I help you?”

“Did you really think you'd succeed?” I taunted.

“What?”

“I'm a powerful magus. You never stood a chance.”

She looked askance. “So?”

“So?” I crunched down what remained of the fruit. “You imagined you'd waltz right in?”

“I don't know what I was thinking.” She scrubbed her face. “I thought...oh, I don't know!”

“Twenty-six,” I said.

“What?”

“I've killed twenty-six like you. Twenty-six prolific idiots who thought I wouldn't dare. Twenty-six untouchables. And do you know what's come of it? Nothing.”

The prisoner wasn't impressed. “Oh, I'm sure the Treasures of Nova welcomed it. They were worthless anyway.” She couldn't resist a jab despite her position. “You're proof of that.”

“My, my,” I clucked. “We have built up our sense of importance, haven't we?”

“I'm very important,” preened the prisoner. “You know it.”

“I do,” I said. “I appreciate you offering yourself to me. It saves me the effort of hunting you down.” I lingered dramatically before finishing with, “Watavil.”

The prisoner twitched, startled by her name. “Who told you that?”

“It wasn't hard to deduce,” I remarked. “I keep aware of the pivotal in Fourmikari. You're noteworthy for obvious reasons. I'm amazed your keepers allowed you to walk right into my clutches.”

“They had no idea. I snuck out. I've always been such a good listener. I've always followed directions. So they relaxed their watch.”

“I imagined it was some as asinine as that,” I scoffed. “You're an idiot.”

“I left a note,” she quickly insisted. “They know where I am now. They're not going to let you keep me here.” She straightened. “They'll get me back.”

My mind was elsewhere. “Do you think they'll send Gallivur?” I was terribly excited. I hadn't seen the champion since my injury from Chidsey.

My liege, moaned Rott.

“I hope so,” mocked Watavil. “I hope Gallivur beats you senseless. I hope Gallivur kills you. I hope Fourmikari takes Nova back!”

“My dear captive,” I sang. “Your people strive to appease you. You are a valuable asset and the future of their kingdom.” I raised a finger, consuming Watavil in a cloud of dark energy. She hollered as I continued, “How sweet. The future of Fourmikari in my hands.”

Nolwud was waiting outside the dungeon when I finished with the arrogant captive. My actions weren't egregious enough to warrant intervention. It did not spare me a lecture. “What did that accomplish?”

“It wasn't meant to accomplish anything,” I responded.

“Having been in her position previously,” the inventor said, “I can assure you there's no need for constant torment.”

“You've not been in her position,” I corrected.

“I've been your captive. You've tried to kill me.”

“I haven't tried to kill her.”

“Yet.”

“Obviously I'm going to one day.” It went without saying. “You can't dissuade me.”

Nolwud put a hand to head. “Look, please. I know what you're going to say, but I insist you leave treatment of the prisoners and correspondence with Fourmikari to me. I insist you don't make a habit of terrorizing and harming everyone who crosses your path. I insist you start thinking about the ramifications of your actions even if you don't think you're going to be around to answer for them.”

With Rott's presence in consideration, I replied, “I won't. There is nothing more to say about it.”

“If you care about the worms,” cautioned Nolwud, “consider what your behavior does for them and their prospects.”

I bristled. “There's nothing more to say, Technologist.”

What's the matter, my liege? asked Rott.

I patted the worm on top his head. “Nothing, Rott. Everything is just fine.”