The Unlikely Overlord

Sitting in front of her mirror, Rivera Neon brushed her hair smiling seductively at her reflection.

The enticing scent of her lavender oil glowing religiously on her delicate skin, filled the air.

Her fingers moved with precision as she shaded her brows with pale blue.

Carefully, she drew stars at the corners of her eyes, making them bold and more inviting.

Her red glossy lips complemented her eye shade as she pressed them together, blending the color seamlessly.

As she admired the outcome, a satisfied smile played on her lips.

Her thoughts drifted to the evening ahead. Tonight was her family's dinner banquet at Falcon Hills.

Normally in Gandon, warlords hosted banquets after conquering another empire, but now, celebrations were discreet as the Overlord had forbidden open festivities.

Here were the Neon's indulging in the veto.

Attendance was private, limited to non-rival Lords in the province.

Her clan was highly placed, belonging to the 5th of ten divisions. Ranking 2nd in their division, boasted large mercenaries, vast resources and wealth.

With a beauty like hers, she knew she'd be the spotlight of the event, but there was Mira, her stepsister.

An unavoidable product of low birth.

The cook's daughter, whose existence Rivera always pricked at.

Well, a second was not mediocre, still the spotlight anyways.

A frown settled on her face as she thought of her plus one. Never would she have imagined being married to a commoner as a reward ; more like being sold out.

Her face turned all red as she relived her hatred for him.

She should be out there, married to a top warlord bachelor, prolly Foster Hawk.

Her man before she was sheepishly married off, whose family ranked 1st in the 3rd division.

They were just many better options in the marriage market to choose from.

But here she was, of all the ranks, married to the lowest of the low.

Taking a deep breath for beauty, she muttered "If only Father hadn't sold me out to that fool of a husband".

She heard familiar footsteps through the door, and her back stiffened.

"Talk of the devil," she scorned.

"You've already announced my foolishness countless times, Riv," came a masculine voice from behind.

"Unrelated, but I must say, you look stunning tonight."

The expression in his warm hazel eyes sincere.

She smirked indifferently, keeping her gaze still on the mirror.

Rivera Neon was married to Midas X, a roadside swordsman from a small town in the outskirts of Gandon, who protected travelers from marauding bandits alongside his crew.

He had helped her father, Lord Neon Lucas, years ago during an insurgent conspiracy.

An attack from the inside left Lord Neon a bit vulnerable as the enemies were fully aware of their tactics, sword skills and strategies.

Midas and his crew had fought alongside Lord Neon, defeating the attackers with unpredictable moves, taming them by beheading.

Neon Lucas, a prominent warlord, had led a motley crew of brutal mercenaries, conquered seven rival territories in his time but died a few weeks after Rivera's marriage, harboring a chronic disease.

Placing his coat on the dragon chair, lacquered brownish-blue and gold.

Midas X bounced on the thickly swollen master size bed.

Adorned with silken sheets of gray and deep oxblood.

Placing his big, strong arms behind his head.

He watched her feign disinterest in his presence.

Utterly focused on her beauty, she kept busy, ignoring him.

There was nothing to really touch up per se but she just had to keep busy, triggering him was a go.

With deliberate grace, she dipped her elegant fingers into the exquisite ornate box of lavender oil.

Feeling the cool silky touch of each stroke, she caressed her back gently.

Methodically slothful.

Thoughtfully, she readjusted her décolletage to emphasize her cleavage.

Revealing her succulent ample bosom, a little more.

As she applied more gloss on her red lips, she briefly shifted her gaze to Midas.

He frowned, knowing what she was doing.

Leading him on, to a blunt demise.

Wasn't the first time.

He was naturally drawn to her as his wife, it was a legitimate feeling after all.

Their marriage had lasted two years but had never been consummated.

Tormenting him was her fun.

He got out of bed, walking toward her, somewhat in satisfaction to her intention.

Her face brightened, anticipating his approach.

Drawing near. Closer and closer.

He was now all in her face.

Without caution, she slapped him. "Don't you dare touch me," she snapped, pointing a finger at his face.

"You bas...."

Ignoring her drama, he leaned in, picked out a strand of wool entangled in her hair.

"There you go" he said easily.

"What?" she blanched, soaking it in.

Rubbing the slap-spot on his cheek, he assessed her briefly.

"You're annoying, it's catching.

Turning away, he departed, surprising Rivera.

She felt her teeth grinding.

Irritation crept into her, more like raging than creeping.

She hurriedly stood up, striding toward him.

"Move!" she commanded, shoving him.

Her touch had no effect on him as he was balanced with virility.

However, he stopped, allowing her to brush past.

He watched her reach the door, her ego evident in her steps.

"Listen here."

"You might as well not show up at the banquet.

"It is already enough to share a chamber with you."

"It's a big night for us. We don't have to be associated with a soppy prick like you out there as well."

"Don't you think?"

"I.." he began, but she cut him off by shutting the door.

An ocean of satisfaction washed over her.

He shook his head, a faint trickle of annoyance slithering through him. Then he sighed.

----------------------------------------------

Gleaming white light shone brightly in Falcon Hills. It was the Neon's signature building.

Like other top-ranked Lords in the province, they marked their territory with impressive structures.

The first three parts of it's interior were unremarkable, disguising the opulence beneath.

The underground look was a lavish affair, a stark contrast to the main outlook's intentional dullness.

Shipping their secrecy.

Just in case rival spies hovered, for a go-tell.

Loud chants echoed as warriors raised their goblets in salutation to victory.

"To a step higher," Arthur Neon, eldest son of Lord Neon, declared.

"To a step higher," everyone repeated, chugging their drinks and stamping their feet in unison.

A warrior's ritual, maybe.

The top warlords present took turns making toasts to the domain.

The atmosphere was filled with lively chatter, chugging and chugging again.

New relationships were forged among guests.

Many initiated conversations with warlords who over ranked them, hoping to win over an alliance or establish habitual acquaintanceship.

The event was equivalent to a wedding reception, culminating in a joyous feast.

During the feast, the Matriarch, Olivia Neon, Lord Neon's wife announced gleefully, "My dear Arthur is representing our territory for the Overlord's equerry position."

"Mom, you didn't have to make it grand." Arthur snapped in blatantly, running his hands over his face.

"I know the position is mine, we'll belong to the 1st division soon."

"And why would you think it'll be you?" Lord Frederick interjected, laughing.

"My son will certainly be the equerry."

"It's obvious you can't handle such a role.

"It's not a bribe, don't be so sure." A warrior shouted.

"Such power can't be committed to just anyone." Lord Nathan scoffed at Arthur.

"It goes to who outranks whom."

"You clan just ranks 2nd in the 5th, do better.

The other warlords began spilling their own thoughts and claims.

The merry atmosphere was soon spun out by a hurricane of disagreements and protests.

Of course, everyone wanted the Overlord's equerry to be from their territory, as it'll kick in an higher approval rating for an alliance with the Overlord himself.

Who wouldn't fight for a chance to have a place with the Overlord?

Gallons of tea with his parishad, still you wouldn't get a peek of the great Lord Xzander.

A tablet was sent to all the top warlords ; ranking from 1st to 5th in each division.

Called the Oregon Pass, it included a memo for each territory to select a representative for the equerry.

The chosen one would stamp their crest at the center, with the forepersons of that territory placing a blood thumbprint around it in agreement.

The Overlord's equerry was like the right-hand man of a king.

"No one's interest is disturbing," Lord Fox, 1st ranked Lord of the 9th division, stated without batting a lash.

"It's known, in terms of armaments and skills, I top the list."

Zephyr Neon, the second son of Lord Neon, applauded mockingly.

"An unbelievably impressive acclamation of weaponry."

"May I erase your lack of knowledge."

"The Neon's mercenaries are an absolute death machine, but that's by the way."

"Contextually, an equerry needs brains more than brawn."

"It's obvious their clan lacks there," Arthur added concurrently.

It got heated up.

Ranting and ravings.

At a lone ghosted corner sat Midas X, watching through the entire scenery.

Thoughtfully, he stood up.

Walked to the buffet, picked up a goblet of wine and headed to the center in loud steps.

Raising up his goblet, he clinked it till the uproar lessened. Earning their attention.

His neatly tied brown hair spilled over his broad shoulders, unable to coax the beauty of his masculinity.

Rolling his strikingly calm hazel eyes among the masses, he spoke.

"Gentlemen, it's not a thing of argument.

"It's a matter of betterment to outwit every rivalry and stand a solid chance of winning the Overlord's choice."

"In toast to the victory of my wife's clan, I have a viable initiative that should be considered by them or anyone of interest."

"I..."

"Who is this man?"

"Son of who?" Lord Fox roared cutting him off abruptly.

"Oh this.." Rivera responded tartly, wagging her fingers at him.

"A nobody Father brought in as my husband."

She stared at him, sprouting with rage.

She hated his confidence. Hated his beauty, his entire being.

Had he lost his mind showing up?

Most of the guests stared at him with irritation, offended by his effrontery to interrupt the Lords.

"Let me disabuse you of the idea that your contribution to this conversation is in any way welcome." Arthur snapped.

"Know your place and rot in it."

His eyes flamed with anger.

He had never liked Midas.

Midas was too low and crude, yet Father brought him into the clan, breathing the same air.

"Who dared you, young fellow?" one of the Lords voiced.

"You interrupt an honorable banter, blabbing without fear."

"Goblet-clinking for attention as if you are something." Arnold snorted, folding his arms.

He was the Neon's oldest cousin.

"You always embarrass me, househusband." Rivera puffed out.

"Being nothing. Doing nothing."

"Just leeching off and crossing boundaries."

"Floor men and always doing recklessly too much, 5&6." A warrior chipped in casually, opening a wide path for stones of insult thrown at Midas.

As horribly offended as he was at the hurl of insults, even from his wife, he ignored his irritation.

"My apologies everyone, I didn't mean to come off as disrespectful." he bellowed.

Shifting his gaze briefly to Arthur and back to the gathering, he spoke again.

"I really do have a solid counsel if your kind hearts will grant me a hearing."

Zephyr bursted into heavy rounds of laughter, soon followed by the majority, laughing him into frustration.

An ocean of embarrassment washed him cold and rough.

"A dog really must be tamed" Foster Hawk scorned, crossing his legs as he enjoyed the roast.

He was the grandson of Lord Hawk, fearfully known as the invincible Captain.

Grudging deeply ever since his betrothed was taken away by this low man.

"For someone with no background or power, you really are something, thinking anything you spit out will be feasible." Zephyr grimaced.

"You're quite pigheaded, you'll never beat that allegation." Isabella, Arthur's wife, added, eyeing him.

Everyone reacted with loathing and unacceptance of his presence.

"I'll thank you all not to mock my sense of decency. I sincerely just want to help."

Slowly sipping her wine, Mira stared at Midas with sympathy, surprise and curiosity.

His audacity was somewhat likable.

Help, you say?" Rivera repeated, letting out a loud guffaw utterly perplexed by his response.

How could he think he could be of help. If anyone needed help, it was him.

"You're a joke man, dust the tables or go guard my horse. " Fox shook his head.

Right, of course he'll act all cool or so.

"Let's just hear him out." loosing her tongue-tied mouth, Mira chipped in, perplexed by her own guts.

"Who knows, it may turn out sensible," she said softly, regretting for a split second that she spoke.

She knew they were definitely coming for her.

Her green eyes moistened.

Midas sent an amused look her way.

Was she feeling him?

Mira was the illegitimate child with great ambitions and insight.

She appeared sweet and soft but was a highly skilled strategist, logical and meticulous in her analysis. Exceptionally talented, she was too good at what she did.

There was just everything about her. Yet, her family neither recognized her capabilities nor gave her a place of utility.

Rivera wouldn't even let her into the limelight, always seeing her as unforgivable competition.

"Oh please, it's not your place to speak up."

"This bastard needs to learn." Rivera retorted, aiming venomous eyes her way.

Midas frowned.

Rivera had become so saucy, bitchy even.

Mira's lips moved.

"I'm sor.."

Arthur waved her silent, nothing tender about the gesture.

She gnawed her lips scarlet and retreated into her shell.

"Let's just hear the poor thing speak."

"He belongs, after all." Arthur smirked, folding his arms with an unpleasant smile.

"Go on, dog."

Mockingly, the warriors started laughing.

Midas felt his teeth grinding, but kept his posture slack, suppressing his emotions with a sigh.

"Arthur, let's forge an alliance with my people."

"It's a move that would secure a valuable position and strengthen our mercenaries."

"They are undeniably skilled, possessing unique stunt and handmade arms of osmium and tungsten, which can outperform most weapons in your possession."

"They are virtuosos in tactics, logic and strategies essential in warfa...."

Arthur stood up, enraged, his eyes burning with anger.

In a brisk, spontaneous motion, he picked up his wine goblet and emptied its scarlet content upon Midas.

Mira gasped, looking ready to cry.

"Took you long enough," Rivera grimaced, smiling with sour satisfaction.

"This is the height of it."

"Speaking down on the weaponry of our clan."

"Who do you think you are?" Arthur snapped.

Mira frowned.

She had perceived the diplomacy in his counsel.

It was plausible.

"It was the blunt truth." Midas said impassively, his face darkened with anger, swirling in dark vendetta as the wine dripped from his clothes.

"Riv, you should consider a divorce, this loser has stepped on too many mines." Foster Hawk suggested, not missing the chance to have a bite of his.

"You need not tell me."

"Of course I'll get rid of the pest in due time." she responded icily, looking flirtatiously at each other.

Midas gave them a stern brief look.

He had received the full blast of their surliness.

The other Warlords watched with loathing, exchanging small talks and curses.

"You speak of an alliance as if it were nothing more than a petty trial with just anybody." Olivia Neon shot to her feet, having watched the whole time, too embarrassed this rascal was her son-in-law.

If only her husband had listened when she'd reproved.

"I did not use those terms." Midas responded sullenly, color leaving his face.

Walking briskly towards Midas, Arnold kicked him hard at the back of his leg, forcing him to kneel.

"You stay down when the Matriarch speaks." he thundered, his bloodshot eyes glaring as he pointed a finger at Midas.

Attempting to rise, five warriors of the Neon's rushed at him, their swords pointed at his neck.

"Stay down!" Arthur commanded, stamping his foot.

Aware that he was outnumbered, Midas obeyed, clenching his fist tightly.

"You didn't have to. You meant so," the matriarch continued, unfazed by their treatment of Midas.

"You abused my clan, called our armaments crude and useless."

"Our entirety you termed weak and senseless."

"The audacity to compare a fearsome territory with a mediocre town like yours."

"Who raised you?" She blasted coldly, banging the long ornate table.

"You're exaggerating mother, I meant no such thing."

"I meant to foster synergy..."

"And who is your mother?" Rivera snorted, triggered.

"Yours couldn't even own you.

"I guess she foresaw the failure you are.

Midas gave her a thorough eyeing, raising his brows in disappointment.

"The less you say, the better it'll be for you." Lord Alexander, Isabella's father, said unseemly.

"You're lucky we haven't separated your head from your body." Zephyr added sharply, giving him a death glare.

"We'll show you mercy today. With a snap I could end you. Always remember." he said, idly fooling with his nails, as if he hadn't just laid a threat.

"We're the dogs of the Overlord."

"We're his army."

"We're very skeptical about our every move."

"We do not make alliances with nobodies." Lord Bernard declared dryly, an advisor of the clan and Lord Neon's older brother.

"I apologize," Midas said, clenching his fists tightly. He stood up slowly, wiped his face, and moved his eyes around the room, just enough to capture everyone's faces.

Without uttering another word, he departed.

Leaving Falcon Hills, he went down to the Jagon's Trumbo, his spot of meditation, to resurrect his sanity.

Piling up wood, he set a fireplace.

He sat there, lost in his thoughts, staring hard at the fire and reminiscing about everything, every voice.

His bright hazel eyes burned with fury.

He felt tightness in his chest.

Rapidly breathing, he stood up, walking to and fro in agitation.

An eerie rustling sound from behind the tall grasses halted him.

"Who's there?"

The silence on the other end made him pull out his pocket knife.

Positioning his stance, he was ready to attack.

"I wouldn't resist, you know," a voice said, paving its way to him.

"Huh?"

Trying to identify the figure, he remained alert, still holding his knife.

A tubby, bowlegged, bearded man stood across from him.

"Was applauding your patience," the old man said conversationally.

"If it were me, I would've drawn my sword."

"I don't know you," Midas said indifferently, returning his pocket knife.

"Fair, but I do know you."

"Stalking?"

"At the banquet, I was there."

"So, what's this about?"

"Followed me here to tell me how much of a fool I am again?"

No answer.

"To mock me?"

"To ridicule me?

"Save it, I've heard enough for the night."

Uninterested in talking, he sat back contemptuously, showing he wanted to be left alone.

I'm Gray Montgomery," the old man said, unbuckling his clod-topper and placing his bum on the grass, ignoring Midas's snit.

Midas inched away lethargically.

Gray Montgomery was an ex-warrior in his early 60s. He fought alongside the Overlord of Gandon, Xzander Musk, in the Eld-RE war when Gandon had communally conquered the mighty land of Renagon decades ago.

"You are royal, I can tell," Lord Gray said, hawk-eyeing him.

"What are you, a seer?"

"Just by looking you can tell that, huh?" he scorned at the twaddle.

Intentionally unmoved by what this was.

"Nice amulet you've got there," the old man didn't give up conversing.

"What's the story?"

"Uh," Midas scratched his skin.

He didn't like talking about his amulet, but if it meant getting the old man out of his nose, he would.

"I lived outside of Gandon in a small town."

"The people there found me, they're my family."

"I was left in the woods with only this amulet."

"I've carried it with me all my life, It won't come off nor break."

"My name is inscribed on it, but not my father's."

"Just a letter of his I know, X." he said running his hands over the amulet.

Assessing the old man as he'd suddenly became quiet. He saw pain in his eyes, coupled with guilt.

It was abnormal for someone he just met.

Maybe his vision was tricking him.

It's enchanted with protection," the old man said thoughtfully. "TRT-45, made of pure gems."

"And how would you know all this?"

"I bet you're just a table man, after all."

Moving his mouth some more, Lord Gray laughed at his ignorance. Only if Midas knew who he really was.

"I'm an ex-warrior."

"I'm mostly aware of things you wouldn't know."

"I belong to the 1st division of Gandon."

"I came down here for a personal matter."

Midas cast a sidelong glance at the old man, trying to figure out if he was messing with his head.

The first division was sacred.

It was the heaven of Gandon, where the Overlord and his men abode.

Not just anyone could belong there.

Who was this man?

"It really doesn't concern me in any way whatsoever." Midas said dryly, feigning disinterest.

The old man grinned, showing those gross teeth of his.

Reaching into his pocket, he puffed on his pipe.

"You have his eyes." He blotted, looking stern as if he had given out exclusive information.

"Whose?"

"Lord Xzander's"

Midas's eyes went wide.

Was this man trying to get beheaded?

He dared mention the Overlord's name with defamation.

"Quiet now, old man."

"You don't want to spark trouble."

"Don't you wonder what the X in your name may be?" Lord Gray continued, showing no ounce of fright.

"I dare not imagine it'll be the Overlord's. It's a mere coincidence."

"What if not?"

Midas shrugged, taking time to soak in the wild thought.

"There's only one way to find out."

"Come with me tomorrow."

"I'll be going back to the Dragon's lair."

"I'll need a pass." Midas retorted nervously.

"I am your pass." Lord Gray added.

The Dragon's lair was the Overlord's Fortress.The name alone would send shivers down anyone's spine.

A testament of his influence.

"It'll be a long ride."

"We leave by dawn."

"Uhm..." Figuring there was no room to back out.

His curiosity wouldn't even let him.

He nodded in agreement.