In the throne room, the atmosphere was electric. Vark's magical monitors showed the "Silver Spears" group crossing the first portcullis. Leo watched the screen, his claws drumming on the obsidian armrest.
"There are too many of them, and their paladin has an aura of light that will reduce Kaelas to dust in three seconds," Leo growled. "And my gargoyles aren't dry yet. If we fight now, we'll lose 40% of our assets in the first round."
Vark tilted his head, concerned.
"Any suggestions, Master? Other than locking ourselves in the vault?"
Leo turned his cyan gaze to Barnaby. The old mage was trying to balance a frozen trout on his nose.
"Barnaby," Leo called. "You said humans respect you because of your former rank as Grand Mage, right?" "
"Oh, they adore me!" exclaimed Barnaby, losing his fish. "Well, they love asking me for fertility spells for their cows or cures for baldness. Why?"
Leo stood up, his massive silhouette dominating the room. A twisted plan was beginning to form in his designer's mind.
"We'll play on their weaknesses: empathy and stupidity. Vark, unlock the gates. Barnabas, you go meet them. You'll guide them here."
"And what do I tell them? 'Hey guys, come meet my new boss who wants to turn you into sketches'?"
Leo gritted his teeth.
"No. You're going to tell them that this dungeon is your refuge. And that I..." He paused, each word costing him immense effort. "You're going to tell them that I'm your son. That I was the victim of a magical experiment that went wrong. Tell them that I'm possessed by a design demon and that you're looking for a cure."
Vark let out a muffled whistle. Maurice, from the skeleton's eye socket, almost fell over laughing.
"The great and terrible Lord Leo... daddy's boy? That's brilliant! It's dishonorable, but brilliant!" laughed the worm.
"Shut up, Maurice," Leo cut in. "If they think I'm a 'patient' rather than a 'Boss,' they won't attack me on sight. We can observe their equipment, their weaknesses, and wait until my gargoyles are operational."
Barnaby wore a radiant smile, his eyes shining with a mischievous gleam.
"Oh, I'm going to love this. I'm going to call you 'my little Leo.' Can I tell that you've always been a little slow on the uptake? That would explain why you don't talk much."
Leo grabbed Barnabé by the collar of his robe and lifted him up to eye level.
"If you push it too far, you old fool, I'll draw a mouth on your butt so you can sing in two tones. Is that clear?" "
"Crystal clear, son!" squeaked the mage.
Leo put him back on the ground and pointed down the hallway.
"Go on. Vark, prepare the illusions to hide the trout carcasses. Kaelas, go hide in a closet. The play is about to begin."
As Barnaby hopped away toward the adventurers, Leo sat back down on his throne, his head in his hands. He had survived Giga-Corp, he had survived death, but he wasn't sure he could survive the shame that awaited him.