Gravetower Page 2

  Ranger Minion and Dark Arts Minion exchange a sly glance as they both figure quickly who Chaos is referring to.

  Cooking Minion trembles in horror as he retreats next to his stove to heat up his pan. “N-no! That was a joke!”

  “It certainly didn’t seem like it to her.”

  “Y-you listening?” Cooking Minion calls out into the room, skillet at the ready to strike. “That was a joke, you dorkazoid! Let it go!”

  Everyone at the table focuses in on the vigilant minion while he steadily and methodically opens each cabinet with his little feet, anchoring on the door like a butterfly on a flower— if that butterfly had a giant volcano-hot frying pan. Just as he passes by the sink, Chaos and the sitting minions reflexively look toward the centimeter-wide crack located on one of the cabinets in the highest row.

  “Until death!” Comes an enthused, young-sounding voice.

  In a flash that Meeo couldn’t see and Aoline didn’t expect, a small black-white bolt of a figure leaps from the cabinet and tackles into Cooking Minion, rolling him to the ground. Aoline spots a minion at precisely Cooking Minion’s height, cutely-featured and particularly distinguished by the whitest, nicest-looking bandanna she’s ever seen; the unusual accessory adorns the minion like a sentient mist that curls around her shoulders. Much like how she used to be, she feels, there’s a deeply-rooted, tomboyish vitality to her, and it comes out easily as she presses her elbow down into Cooking Minion’s throat. Aoline doesn’t much like it.

  “What was the duel over?” Aoline asks, looking over to Ranger Minion.

  Blanketed by Cooking Minion’s screams, he replies. “Said she couldn’t ambush her way out of a paper bag, and that he’d never give her seconds for dinner unless she proved otherwise. She escalated it to a duel to the death.”

  “What? Why?”

  Ranger Minion stares on coldly. “That’s how she do,” he says aptly as Cooking Minion finally cries uncle and the assailant lets him go.

  The Lord of the Minion Horde chuckles in parental bliss, as if witnessing a cute play-fight among his children— but Cooking Minion is convulsing as if he were seeing the river Styx itself.

  “Scout Minion,” Chaos addresses.

  She whips up to her feet in a blink; she looks just as fast as Chaos, Love muses a moment— but she knows better than to assume Chaos can be beaten by anyone at anything except remembering important details.

  “What’s diggin’, Poppi?”

  While Chaos and Scout Minion exchange pleasantries, Aoline’s expression sharpens to Ranger Minion levels of displeasure while she leans to speak to Love covertly. “She’s kinda lame, huh?” she whispers.

  Love smiles awkwardly. “Oh? You think it’s bad?”

  “No, just… she’s a dork.”

  Love coos maternally. “Are you jealous?”

  Aoline jolts, glancing over to Scout Minion, now dancing on the table and doing cartwheels as Cooking Minion grimly readies up her food. “O-of course not!”

  “Then why do you-”

  “Nevermind, sorry.” Aoline cuts out and turns away.

  “-so you agree to make peace with Cooking Minion, then?” Chaos continues in pure, thoughtful curiosity.

  She rubs the four short, horn-like knobs— not at all like the antennae of a typical minion. “If you really want me to, anything.” She turns to Cooking Minion hopping lithely into her chair. “Sorry, puking minion. Guess you can’t handle the speed, eh?” She says this proudly, even though “cooking” and “puking” don’t really rhyme.

  Cooking Minion 'accidentally' spills the food into her lap. “Oops. How terrible.”

  Without so much as a flinch, she picks up the omelet from her lap and takes a huge bite. “There’s a silver lining to everything, ‘migo. Thanks.”

  Chaos, having still not taken a bite of his food, taps his fork against his plate in a most un-overlord-like fashion to garner attention— what a gentleman.

  “So, I trust your preparations are ready?”

  Scout Minion nips a fish. “We had preparations?”

  There’s an awkward silence. “I do believe I put out a fairly lengthy missive to anyone interested in-”

  “I can’t read.”

  Chaos’ perfectly circular eyes widen in surprise. “Ahh… right.”

  Scout Minion crosses her arms and her edged jaws frown into a pout. “I can’t write either, Poppi; I thought you knew that.”

  The High Overlord and Killer of Billions clears his throat as he flicks his finger an inch above the table, opening a half-meter portal with such flawless ease it seems apparent to his very nature. “That said, what does everyone want for tea?” Naturally, he addresses Love with his gaze first.

  She bows her head acquiescently while Chaos strikes a notepad and pencil from his dimensional jaws to write with. “Silver needle, please.”

  Chaos jots it down and looks to Aoline next. She looks about nervously. “Eh, do you have a menu, maybe?”

  Cooking Minion, clearly miffed from his failed defense against Scout Minion, scoffs bitterly. “Hey, dummy. Think of a tea.” Aoline was always taught not to take address when someone calls you something naughty, but she still thinks of a tea. “He has it,” Cooking Minion adds in bluntly, not even looking up from his dishes.

  Aoline puffs her cheek to the side in thought. “Well, green tea?” She’d be the first to admit she doesn’t know much about tea, but that kind of talk here in the overlord’s dominion is practically a concession of plebianism.

  While the other minions (except our beloved chef) hide their humor at her ignorance, only Chaos reacts gracefully.

  “Green tea it shall be, my knightess.” He jots the second item down and then looks along to the others.

  “Oolong with ginger and coconut oil, if you please,” Dark Arts Minion requests.

  “Sweet tea, sir,” says Ranger Minion.

  “Whatever you’re having, Poppi,” says Scout Minion with a nod and a swift punch to his elbow, easily the size of her little fist.

  “So be it.” The Master of Unlimited Victories chuckles darkly as he puts down everyone else’s order and dips his hand with the completed list into the small portal. “This will be a small wait. I am quite proud of it, but it takes a moment for all the tea and animal minions to get in proper sorts for it.”

  Love and Aoline eat politely, unlike their minion counter parts, who finished their plates by simply inhaling the whole of their dishes. Suddenly, a beast emerges from the portal.

  Brilliant, bold, and labored by an ornate cart stacked high with tea cups, a proud rooster trots out— its many bells ringing while he parades the wheeled cart across the table and stops at each seat for his occupant to take their uniquely-prepared beverage. Aoline marvels at the rooster’s training, as Meeo gulps down a cute-overloaded whimper, and the rooster squawks impatiently for each person to retrieve their tea.

  “It’s… wonderful!” Love says, fighting off the strong urge to embrace the little chicken and admire it for an entire hour.

  Chaos, in his ever pleased, somewhat proud way, takes his teacup of some silvery, wondrous fluid and indulges in a sip. “I knew you’d like him.”

  Aoline takes a sip of her green tea. “How did you train him?”

  Chaos scoffs. “I do not need to train that which would gladly be taught. Harken,” Chaos says to Aoline, and then to the rooster.

  The unaltered bird, not infested with any amount of Chaos’ essence, turns his head to the side to look upon his master as Chaos reaches forward to massage its neck with his viciously-sharp claws. Aoline would assume it’d hurt, but the overlord’s touch is silken and gentle, displayed by the fowl’s relieved, relaxed features during their brief contact.

  “A good show with expedite service!” Chaos congratulates. “You have done well, Picard. Return to your wife and children. I release you for the day.”

  The rooster does an honored squat, and jingles his way back through the portal.

  Aoline is aghast. Eve
ry moment she spends with him, she feels like what is impossible becomes easier. “It… understands… words?”

  “More than ‘fetch’, that is for certain,” Chaos says with a smile. “Humans rarely understand the most basic ways of other creatures, and even more rarely do they take the time to learn their languages.”

  “There are animal languages?” Aoline asks with a bewildered gaze.

  Chaos nods. “Knight Love could have told you that… Didn’t you have a beetle, or something?”

  Love sips daintily. “I haven’t the slightest idea whom you are referring to,” she lies with an obvious smile — at once recalling a very, very naughty insect that nearly ascended to overlordhood.

  Chaos laughs knowingly. “Pardon me, I forgot you two were still at odds… Now, allow me to give you all the full plan.”

  At once, the portal closes, Music Minion stops the record, the room grows quiet, and everyone, even Cooking Minion, stops what they’re doing. “Take great heed, for those of us at this table will be legends.”

  There’s an awkward glancing around, especially targeted to the unassuming Scout Minion, who doesn’t even have the poise to sip her tea; she just pours it into her mouth like a waterfall— the knave.

  “Our goal is to travel to Oa’s realm of cowardice and strike it down by ruining its great phylactery.”

  Aoline raises her hand.

  “Little Knightess,” Chaos addresses.

  “What’s a phylactery?”

  Chaos smiles and looks to Dark Arts Minion.

  “It’s a catalytic iteration, usually a physical object, that prevents the exemption of a soul to another plane of existence.”

  Aoline just stares on. “Huh.”

  “Did you get all of that?” Chaos asks with a professorly grin.

  She nods, utterly lying. “Totally.”

  Love tilts her head aside in thought. “So are we certain this is Oa’s last phylactery?”

  Chaos gestures to her with admiration. “Wonderful question: we are. You recall my knowledge gained from the High Tea suggested as such. This is Oa’s prime phylactery, by any means, therefore its destruction would reduce it to a quivering mass of quasi-spiritual mess, if not kill it outright.”

  “That would be preferable,” she says with a sweet, girlish smile, rather inappropriate for discussing a topic such as this.

  Chaos squints an eye, showing clear amusement. “You seem rather excited about this.”

  “I am.” Love says. “I’m very excited… it’s been such a long time, but soon it’ll be done with.” Her gaze focuses in on her tea as Chaos takes a long, thoughtful sip from his cup.

  “Perhaps you and I can have a talk about this soon. I would be interested to hear about your motivations.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She bows.

  Chaos nods in turn with a gentle air before turning back to the others. “Our quest shall be as follows: Once ready, we will immediately break causality into the O.E.L. headquarter-”

  Cooking Minion, who made himself a cup of English breakfast, promptly spews out his mouthful over Chaos’ words. “Sir, you guys are going to Dimension Number One?!”

  Chaos hisses. “That being their own term for the realm, yes. You act as though that’s a bad idea.”

  Cooking Minion chuckles nervously. “Em, yeah, sir, I think anyone but you would agree with me on that.” He looks vainly to the others in the room for support, but none offer it.

  “I know Chaos well enough,” Love says gently, “there’s no one more capable when motivated.”

  “Y-yeah!” Aoline backs up, “back your shit up, frying pan!” She adds this perhaps a bit rudely— even though she likes Cooking Minion, the part of her that hasn’t yet forgiven him for that frying pan to the head back in Liefland is creeping up.

  Cooking Minion staggers back. “Wh- But they’re… you know, only like the most advanced civilization ever?”

  Dark Arts Minion smiles thinly, her small, round, white eyes squinting in a very Chaos-like manner. “Technology isn’t everything, cuisineling.”

  Scout Minion also tosses in her thoughts in a measured, helpful fashion, “Yeah, shut the hell up, Cooking Minion. You don’t know shit, as usual.”

  Thanks for that one, Scout Minion.

  Cooking Minion sighs in dejection as Chaos shrugs confidently. “Well there you have it, dear Cooking Minion. My mind is quite made up, and I assure you even if there were an easier way, it would be unbecoming of a High Overlord to avoid conflict on the grounds of simple mortal fear.”

  The small chef minion shakes his head, but he has a charmed smile. “If you say so, sir, but those scribes don’t exactly like being disturbed.”

  “Funny, with how often they meddle in other creatures' businesses,” Chaos says. “Do not fear for me or the others, we know well the threats of this.” He turns back as Cooking Minion cuts himself off with a bow to return to his dishes.

  “Of course, sir. Good luck,” he answers.

  The Black Knight’s Ideal clears his throat. “Once we have found their locked-down space gate, I will persuade one of their technicians to open it for us, and we’ll be on our way to Oa’s realm. Expect heavy resistance throughout the entire journey and tests of skill unlike any you’ve met before. The nights will be long for you, my minions, for the humans will need to rest during the trip.”

  Scout Minion yawns. “So, Poppi….”

  “Dear Scout Minion.”

  “Why are we bringing these meat bags? Aren’t humans like, slow and dumb?”

  Love smirks and Chaos scoffs. “Many are, yes,” he responds. “These ones however must pay testament to our works. After all, what lowly human would believe the words of a minion?”

  Scout Minion readjusts her bandanna. “So witnesses? Very smart, Poppi! Then no one will be able to doubt how badly we rango’d Doctor Garbage.”

  Chaos smiles. “ ‘Doctor Garbage’ will undoubtedly have difficulty with us, and the layman that hears we killed the lord of all necromancers will have an even harder time believing it.”

  Love hums thoughtfully, looking up to the rafters carved out of trees from seven different worlds, and she nods. “Us knights don’t like to believe you’re real, most of the time.”

  The Overlord squints an eye. “It is far more comfortable to deny the truth, is it not?”

  “Yes, you have a point. Humans were never the first to take care of their problems.”

  The two share a sensible chuckle, their words providing just enough hints to clue Aoline in. She’s glad she gets to come along on the quest, a matter of fact she’s thrilled— but there’s a small part of her that feels as though she’s just being dragged along for politeness, which seems like something The Master of Unabated Cruelty would do; he hates stepping on people’s feet when he doesn’t have to.

  Ranger Minion raises his hand softly up in the air. Much like his salute, it commands an immense presence. “Commander.”

  “Ranger Minion.”

  “What have we considered of O.E.L. pursuit during the operation?”

  Chaos grins. “I can practically guarantee it. As to how aggressive they will be, I cannot say, but do expect to have involvement with necromancers, librarians, and knights.”

  Aoline shoots her hand up. “We’re going to be chased by royal knights?”

  Chaos looks to Meeo, who looks to Aoline. “You understand that they have ways of tracing dimensional pathways, yes?”

  Aoline stares into Knight Love blankly. “Yes?”

  “And so, they’ll be able to trace our movements to this tower, and then to the O.E.L., and onward.”

  There’s a disquieting moment. “So that’s it then. We’re traitors?”

  Love smiles awkwardly. “Yes, sweetie. I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”

  Instead of fear, determination crosses the young girl’s features. “But if we kill Oa, we’ll be helping The Knights, right?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Then that’s what’s
important. We’re not betraying them at all. We’re doing the right thing.”

  Chaos nods with a grin, making Aoline feel like the top of the world. “Right you are, knightess. This will be a service for all creatures that care to survive. They may never care for us, but we will have improved the condition of their life; regardless of what that first-realmer said, the impact will be great and the pain we bear for it will be vastly worth the effort.”

  At once the minions remember why they look up to Chaos so much, Aoline becomes certain of her love for him, and Meeo— she decides this was the right way to go; Order can spit on her grave for all she cares, but she will never regret this decision.

  After a final sip from his tea, Chaos taps on the table in consideration; a faint, vegetable scent flows through the air. “On that note, we should be off.” At once, all the minions rise from their seats and make their way toward the door, leaving a gaping Cooking Minion in their wake.

  “Really, sir?”

  “What?” Aoline asks.

  Chaos nods. “He is your direct subordinate, after all.”

  Cooking Minion growls. “And your minion, sir.”

  The Overlord scoffs at his beloved child. “I do believe it was your idea to bring him in,” he says as he heads for the door and opens it for the party.

  As a frantic vegan pitter-patter fills the hall from the downstairs steps, Cooking Minion reaches forward as if to stop his leave. “Sir! That was before I knew-”

  “I have faith in you, my little one. Strike at the throat and show no mercy!” Chaos calls with a courageous tone as the last of his group files out the door before him.

  “Sir, please! I ha-”

  “So long,” Chaos adds before shutting the door behind him, as usual taking the last second to deliver a final, confident glance to the cringing minion's gaze. Usually this act of charisma would fill Cooking Minion with enthusiasm as he watched his lord depart, but not when left to face this particular character.

  Just as Chaos closes the door behind himself, he hears a loose voice call through the whole of the room: “DID SOMEBODY SAY: SUSTAINABLE FARMING AND HEALTHY, NON-ANIMAL BYPRODUCT-BASED COOKING?!” accompanied by a drawn out, abysmal groan from Cooking Minion.