One

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Jaune groaned as he came to, an odd sort of… Echo of pain rushing through him, like a cramp that made him tense and growl until it faded. When it finally did, though, he sighed and relaxed, letting out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

And, as he relaxed, he became aware of a great many things all at once.

First was where he was laying. Rather than on the bridge he'd been fighting on with his new - hopefully - friends up until he'd been bodily thrown off of it by an unexpected swing of the Deasthstalker's claws, he was… On a bed. It wasn't lumpy, like his at home had been. Instead it was soft, like the mattress he and his sisters had gotten Saph for her birthday had been, and with nice, silken sheets and a thick, soft cover. It was the most comfortable thing he'd ever had the pleasure to lay on. Easily.

It was even better than the one at that expensive hotel had been, which had been the previous holder of the 'most comfortable place for Jaune's back' award.

The second thing he was made aggressively aware of was that he… Wasn't alone.

Something warm on his chest shifted, letting out a distinctly feminine, distinctly relaxed sigh that blew warm air across his bare, broad chest. Raising his head, he peered down at a mess of black hair splayed out across his chest, and a pair of beautiful, pale breasts pressed tight against his side. So tight they molded to him, heat rushing out across his chest from them like he'd been branded. She shifted and he could feel her thigh on his, too, bare, hot and oh-so-soft. All of her was so soft, enough that he didn't notice her long, pointed ears for a long moment - though with a naked woman pressed against him, her ears weren't the thing he was the most focused on. And yet…

All he could feel, looking down on her, was an odd sort of resignation and odd, resigned acceptance. Which was… Well, weird to feel, with someone so pretty in bed with him - even if he had no idea who she was.

But something else pulled at his attention, even more than the soft woman laying on his chest, her naked skin against his, or the odd smell of cinnamon that seemed to fill the air. No, something dragged at him, like an itch at the back of his mind. An urge that drew his eyes down as his arm came up, fingers toying with the long, black hair splayed out across his chest.

The pride and greed that rushed through him felt just as natural as his resignation and acceptance had. Just as 'him'. Just as deep, down in his core. They welled up on their own will, almost, pushing against his own thoughts and drawing a smile across his face as he raised his hand, armored fingers curling into a spiked fist. His eyes came to the glowing gem infused into the back of his armored hand. The plates were thick and black, and under it was padded, comfortable leather, with fur lining along its top and cruel spikes sticking out from each plate. His fingers ended in claws, sharp and hard and threatening.

The gem seemed to register his gaze on it, and glowed brighter - hotter - for it, flushing him with power and drawing a dark, wry chuckle from him.

The woman beside him sighed, and he felt her hand on his chest, pushing her up and reaching up to draw his eyes back to her. He couldn't see her eyes, though, or much of her face. Just her lips, quirking a playful smile as she pulled herself up onto him, chest bare, and opened her mouth to say something as she leaned down to meet him.

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This time when he woke up, his back was sore, and he was laid out on a lumpy mattress that didn't do anything to help him with it. His nice blanket was gone, too, replaced by a thin sheet that did little to protect him against the chill of the room around him. His body ached, throbbing gently with every heartbeat, and his throat was dry. Painfully dry. But, like before, in spite of how sore he was, regardless of how suddenly scared he was, there was that itch, that pressure, on the back of his mind.

Pain lanced up his arm, but he raised it anyway…

The same plated, spiked gauntlet from his dream met his eyes, and he felt that same rush as before. Weaker, softer, than before. But it was still there. Watered down, with a gem that glowed more dully. More weakly than the one from his dream. And the Gauntlet had changed, too. It covered up to his elbow, now, with smooth black plates and short, stubby claws at the ends of his fingers. Like a Dark Knight from some old fairy tale. But its fur lining was gone, along with the cruel spikes that had risen up from the ends of each plate and between his knuckles.

It was… Plainer, somehow, but those claws looked like they could rip right through something if he put his mind to it, at least.

Turning his hand over, he looked at his palm and the unarmored insides of his fingers. The leather was smooth and soft, dark and rich. High quality, like fox or rabbit, like he'd seen around Ansel every now and again. It was strange, but it moved more easily than leather, somehow. Less like an armored gauntlet and more like his own flesh and blood. And he could swear that, when he pushed his finger into his palm, he could feel it.

He regarded it for a moment longer, wondering what on Remnant it could even be…

And then sighed and let his arm flop onto the bed with a heavy 'thump'.

Ignoring his aches and pains, he forced himself to roll over, onto his side, and pushed himself up. Sitting at the edge of the huge bed, he looked around at the room and frowned. It was large, half as big again as his room at Ansel had ever been, with a high, domed ceiling held up by arches. One wall was opened up by a massive balcony, old, cracked glass surrounding a double-door made of old metal in its middle. Right beside it, with the only door on its far side, was a wide,open hearth made of pitch black stone, a handful of pitiful logs crackling weakly in it. And the building was all dark, polished stone, except for the roof which was made of wider, smooth stretches of stone. Like pictures of old castles he'd seen from old Mistral and Mantle, buttressed by stone with heavy iron fittings.

"That'd explain why it's so cold." He coughed, throat sore, "Mistral should be mid-winter right now…"

A moment passed before he caught the sound of bare feet padding on stone, made loud by the otherwise dead silence that filled the room. It stopped right outside the open door beside the hearth, and he heard clothes rustling quietly. Finally… Something stepped through the door. It was small, with a tattered red tunic on and a dirty, ratty black cloak that drug on the ground behind it as it came in. It had padded leather across its hunched shoulders, and on it, a long stick from which a tiny sort of crystal hung, glowing brightly enough to light up the room a bit.

"Ah." The…Thing said, the puffy white hair hugging the side of his head shifting as he shuffled in, running a finger through its thin white beard. "Good. Good. It's been so long… I was growing worried, you know!"

"W-Who." He shook his head, massaging his throat, "W-Where-"

This time when he choked, he coughed painfully, throat raw and head swimming. He felt something pressed into his hand and gave it a look, sucking in painful breaths. He couldn't just drink something some weird goblin gave him…

"Drink, Dark Lord." He pressed, laying a hand on Jaune's forearm and pushing it up weakly. "It's a potion. It should help you get on your feet, now you're awake."

He grimaced, and it sighed.

"If I wanted to kill you," it argued, "I wouldn't have brought you here, changed you, and put you to bed. I'd have stuck a knife in you instead."

That… Was fair enough, he supposed. And his throat felt like he'd had sandpaper run through it, too. He took the little glass bottle from the thing, gave it a look, sighed, and tossed it back. Just like he'd always seen his dad do with his bourbons. It tasted of berries and mint, and stung on the way down. Like raw alcohol right onto a fresh cut - clear and slicing through his thought processes.

Enough that he choked, hurling the bottle away to shatter against a wall on instinct while he turned, sinking to a knee and sucking in a breath.

"Sure." The creature complained darkly, "Hurl my bottles against the wall. I have oh so many of them, and oh so much gold to get more. By all bloody means."

"S-" He coughed, shook his head, and suddenly, he felt… Better. Fresher. His soreness had gone, and his throat was soothed. Like when his mom would make him honeyed tea for his colds - all warm and soft and gentle. Turning, he spoke more clearly, "Sorry, I just- It surprised me."

"Oh, you don't say?" The creature scoffed, pacing over to the mess and kneeling to gingerly brush the glass into a pile. "Why, silly old me, I thought it had become the custom to pitch drinking things into walls."

"Really?"

"No of course I didn't, you bloody-" He rounded on Jaune and stopped, sucking in a breath and raising and lowering his hands slowly. "No. No. Breathe, Gnarl. In and out, in and out, like those stupid, prissy, preachy, petulant, asinine elves taught you to do. In, out… In, out…"

"Are you-" Jaune blinked, "Did you say elves?!"

"Yes, but don't worry, they are basically extinct now." The creature, 'Gnarl' apparently, waved him down quickly. "One of your predecessors didn't like their tribute so whoops! Genocide."

"He killed them all?!"

"Yes, well," it shrugged as it came over, "it's their fault really. I mean, who doesn't send the requisite five hundred gold pieces?"

"H-How many did they send?"

"Oh." Gnarl blinked and cocked his head, thinking, "I… Believe it was four hundred and ninety."

"T-Ten gold pieces and he killed them all?!"

"Oi, the contract specifically stated that as long as they met the required sums he wouldn't do that." Gnarl shrugged, "They signed it and everything. So they consented."

"To… Being killed?"

"Yes." Gnarl smirked, "Or why would they have signed?"

"Why… Did they sign?"

"So we wouldn't kill them all." He blinked, cocking his head as a thought suddenly occurred. "Oh… I see what you're thinking. 'Is it really consent if you force it', right?"

"Something like that…"

"Well, the answer is no. Not really." He laughed, "But who cares? The Overlord is the Overlord. You may do what you please. Presuming whoever you want to do whatever to isn't able to kill you, at least."

"K-Kill me?!"

"Yes. That's…. How conquest works?" It cocked its head, "You do know how conquest works don't you?"

"I mean, in principle, or…?"

"I mean…" Gnarl cocked his head the other way, "You've… Done it, right?"

"D-Done it?"

"Conquest." Again, he cocked his head the other way. "Take a village. Do a spot of murder, maybe. Maybe grab a few pleading women and bend them over a table to-"

"N-No!" He snapped, eyes wide. "N-Never- I would never just go out and kill innocent people! O-Or do… That to women!"

"I mean it wasn't until the last Overlord that one did the second thing." Gnarl laughed, wiping an invisible bead of sweat off his brow and shaking his head. "Ended up killing him, too. One too many kids and suddenly, there's enough angry magical brats to overwhelm you, rip your soul out of your body, and hand it to the Gods of Violation to be punished for all eternity! I mean, come on, how obvious, right?"

"S-Sure…" Jaune sighed, "Look, can you just… Tell me where I am? What's going on? Last thing I remember, I was fighting a Deathstalker at Beacon's Initiation and then-"

"Oh, right." Gnarl grunted, waving a hand at him. "Well, that was… A while ago. And you died. Congratulations!"

"I d-d-died?!" Oh, Brothers, his parents would have heard about that… Oh, he had to write to them or something. It'd take a bit to get through in the mail, but they'd be coming apart! Wait… He blinked, "Why would you congratulate me for something like that?!"

"Oh, not the 'dying pitifully, rather like a squealing pig as you fall down a rather large hole you should have seen', your Lordship." Gnarl laughed, "I meant the 'it not sticking' part!"

"It… Didn't stick?"

"Mhm!" Gnarl nodded, pacing forward and reaching out, gingerly taking his armored hand and holding it up, running his fingers gently across the gem in a… Weirdly intimate way. "The Gauntlet chose you, Lordship. And with just a little, tiny bit of agonizinglybackbreakingworkfrommealongwithabitofEvilmagic, it brought you here and, well… Restored you."

"Restored me?" Jaune's brows furrowed, "Wait, what was that part about Evil-"

"Let's focus on the first part for the moment, hm?" Gnarl cut him off, patting his hand and explaining, "You, my Dark Master, are the new Overlord!"

"The…Overlord?"

"Yes!" Gnarl nodded, stepping back and bowing his tiny head a bit. "The Dark Lord of Dark Darkness! His Evilness! The Conqueror to Be! The Crazy Spikey Fucker!"

"I'm sorry?!"

"Dwarves a few centuries back." Gnarl straightened, laughing, "Colorful folk, them. Made great explosives!"

"They were engineers?"

"Sure!" Gnarl nodded, "That too."

Jaune blinked and set it aside, holding up a hand for a pause and taking a breath. "Okay, wait, from the top… I died?"

"Oh, yes." Gnarl nodded, standing straighter. "Quite pitifully, too, I might add."

"Thanks." He scoffed, shaking his head, "Anyway, I died and you… Brought me back?"

"Yes." He nodded, "With some Evil magic, and a potion bath."

"Potion bath…?"

"You drank a potion a moment ago, your Worship." Gnarl explained, gesturing at the messy pile of glass a few feet away. Jaune eyed it with a frown and Gnarl waved it off, "Don't worry, I'll beat someone into cleaning that up. Forget about it. Anyways, a potion works by interacting with the Magic in your body, stimulating it into a Healing spell of sorts, which, well… What that means should be obvious."

"It heals?"

"Ah, you have a brain! Good." Gnarl chuckled, "Very good… Better smart than dumb!"

"Yeah, I guess." He shook his head, "Potions interact with… Mana?"

"Yes, Mana." Jaune sat for an uncomfortable moment, before he coughed meaningfully and Gnarl blinked, as if realizing something. "Ah, you wanted an explanation! Right, right, of course… Well, to put it in simple terms, Mana is a sort of energy within all living things. It allows those with an abundance of it, or skill in applying it, to use spells, potions, arcane relics and items like your Gauntlet!"

"My Gauntlet?" He raised it, staring into the warmth of the glowing gem and frowning. Shaking off the pushing sense of power, he turned back to the creature and asked. "What does it do?"

"A number of things." Gnarl answered, "Chiefly, it makes you the Overlord."

"The Overlord?" He murmured, "What does that mean?"

"It means you have great power within you!" Gnarl laughed brightly, "It lets you heal when injured, if you have enough Mana. And lets you protect yourself in combat! Again, so long as you have Mana to do it. Though mainly only through wards and the like which… Um, I don't know how to apply! So mainly it makes you faster, stronger, more durable. Those sorts of things."

"It… Sounds like Aura."

"Please, your Evil Magnificence, don't compare proper Magic to that… Watered down drivel that Humans managed to cobble together after centuries of fighting giant monsters with particularly sharpened sticks!" Gnarl scoffed, shaking his head, "This is pure Magic. Pure Power! Enough to make you the Overlord!"

"You still haven't explained what that is…"

"Ah, forgive me." Gnarl bowed his head a bit again, chuckling darkly as he straightened. "Being the Overlord is, well… Somewhat complicated. But, at its core, the Overlord rules over my kind. The Minions! And he directs us to whatever ends he - or she, sometimes - demands, but especially the Evil ones."

"E-Evil as in…?"

"Conquering empires, razing villages like I mentioned, enslaving peasants, assembling a harem of often less than willing wives…" Gnarl shrugged, "Or men, or both, as you like. I don't judge, Great Dark One!"

"That sounds…"

"Stupendous?!"

"Horrible!" He scoffed, shaking his head, "It sounds horrible, Gnarl."

"A-Ah, well… But those were just the bad old days, your Lordship! Ravaging the world under our Overlord's whims, ah, truly the best days of my long, long life." Gnarl sighed wistfully, shaking his head sadly. Like his father when he talked about his old Hunter friends, long since lost to the Grimm. Or worse. He shook out of his reverie quick enough, though, and went on, "But you don't have to do any of that, Lordship!"

"I don't?"

"No! For now, we just need to focus on repairing the Tower." Gnarl explained, "You can decide after what you want to raze or, blegh, protect." And, from the way he spat the word, Jaune could guess how he felt about that idea. Regardless, Gnarl went on, clapping his hands together eagerly and stepping back, "But first, a tour! A must have for every up and coming Overlord's induction!"

"R-Right…" He hopped up and, in two long steps, caught up with the Minion, walking beside him awkwardly as Gnarl lead him out int a dark, cobwebbed stone landing, and then down a spiral staircase, past a half-dozen missing stones and broken sections of railing. After a minute or so of quiet walking, he hummed, "Uh… The Tower doesn't look great."

"Oh, first lesson, this isn't actually The Tower, Master." Gnarl explained as they finally descended to another enclosed landing and stepped through another door, into a long, wide hallway that stretched out to either side. "It's a less-than-perfect reconstruction. It was destroyed, its Heart saved and moved to a new location which was also destroyed. Then again, when that Tower fell, and a few more times over the years…"

"It… Gets destroyed a lot, doesn't it?"

"Yes, well, perils of being the den of the Overlord, leading his armies of darkness to conquer the known, unknown, and shouldn't be known world, I'm afraid. Tend to… Ruffle some feathers, doing that. But what can an Evil creature do, eh?" Gnarl chuckled as they reached the end of the dilapidated hall, where it stretched out into a balcony that was being worked on by a handful of little creatures like Gnarl.

Suddenly, a huge length of stone-work came careening down, slamming into the balcony and shattering it in a spray of stone, mortar and blood.

A Minion who'd been just about to step out there with a brick froze in place, blinking, and casually sat down there, staring off into dead space.

"Great." Gnarl sighed, "Because stone is so easy to get, you gits!"

"T-They just died?!"

"Perils of being a Minion, Master." Gnarl chuckled, "You tend to die. But ah! Here we are, the throne room. Don't mind the rubble, dust, webs, broken armor and, ah, corpses, Master. We're… Renovating!"

"Alright, I guess…" He paused, then gestured with his hand towards the sitting Minion and asked. "What about him?"

"Oh, he's just ruminating on the nature of life, death and his place in the world." Gnarl waved him off, "He'll be fine!"

"R-Really?"

"Minions are idiots." Gnarl rolled his eyes, hands on his hips, and sighed. "Just let him… Do his thing. He'll be fiiiiiine."

"Alright." He shrugged, "If you say so."

The Throne Room was round and large, about the size of Beacon's auditorium in fact. A dirty pool with rubble and a pillar of rock fallen in it sat at the far end, which was open to the air judging from the stars he could see through the gap. There were two doors, counting his, set to either side of a raise dais at the back, which Gnarl explained lead up and down the Tower, to its depths where the Minion Nests rested and, back the way they'd come, to more rooms, an armory, and up above, his Quarters. Half a dozen Minions were working in the pool, pushing, pulling and sliding the huge pillar towards the edge. Finally, it tipped over, carrying half of them, screaming, down and the others ran over to watch.

Jaune heard it slam down somewhere far below and the Minions cheered, apparently satisfied with the outcom.

"There go more…"

"Yes, Minions tend to die a lot. That's their job, dying for you, Master." Gnarl drawled, "It's ranked just above 'killing for you' and just below 'carrying your crap when you can't be asked' in terms of frequency. I wouldn't dwell on it. Or them."

"That's depressing…"

"That's kind of depressing…" Jaune murmured, watching them work on pushing the smaller chunks away now the pillar was gone. "Shouldn't we… Have a ceremony for them or something?"

"Lord, if we had one every time one of these cretins lost their pathetic little pulses, we'd never get anything done." Gnarl sighed, turning and climbing the stairs up the dais. He paused when another shrieked, and turned to watch it tumbled over, dragging one of its fellows to their demise, and sighed. "Ugh, see, Lord? You send tend to fetch you a meal, and you'll be lucky to get eight back! Best to spend 'em and move on."

"I guess. It just seems a little…"

"Evil?" The creature cackled, turning to leer at him, mouth spread in a maniacal grin. "Yes, Lord, that's… Sort of the whole point, in case you missed it. Now, shall we?"

At the top of the stairs, ensconced into the wall a bit, sat a throne. It was old, dilapidated like everything else, but made of solid, smooth black stone that seemed to somehow… Leech the light into it, from the space around it. Crocea Mors rested in its seat, leaning back against the back of the throne and glinting in the light of the two mostly broken braziers set to either side of the throne. Past the braziers stood two more Minions, each armored in little leather vests and holding pikes as tall as Jaune was.

"This," Gnarl said as they reached it, "is the Throne."

"Yes." Jaune sighed, crossing his arms, "I can see the chair, Gnarl."

"This is the Throne, Master." Gnarl corrected sharply, turning to scowl up at him. "Not some… Mere ass rester!"

"No?"

"No!" He shouted, "It is a connection to the Tower Heart itself! When you sit upon it, it synchronizes with you, healing even the gravest wounds and filling you flush with Mana! If all the facilities were functioning, it could do even more than that!"

"Like what?"

"Take a seat." Gnarl suggested, "I'll tell you about it while you… Attune to the Mana of the Heart more properly."

"Alright…" He took a step and turned, moving Crocea Mors to lean against one of the rough-hewn arms and easing back into it. It first him perfectly, just tall enough to loom over him powerfully, with comfortable arm-rests, and…. "Did you… Measure me for this?"

"Of course." Gnarl nodded, "Right after we fought off the beasties nearby, dragged your sorry carcass all the way here, set at least a hundred bones, stitched you up, and let the Heart heal you."

"I was… That bad?" He grimaced and shook his head to get rid of the mental image. "I need to get back, Gnarl. To Beacon. I-I have classes, training, and family waiting to hear from me. I can't be a Huntsman if I don't."

"Master, may I speak freely?" Jaune nodded, leaning his chin on one hand while he made a waving motion with is Gauntlet in an instinctive gesture that Gnarl's eyes followed, narrowing meaningfully before he went on. "I…Recognize your goals. I don't enjoy them, but I get it. You want to s-save people," he looked like he was going to vomit, "To p-p-protect them."

"That's a really hard word for you isn't it?"

"Ugh, like eating sandpaper!" Gnarl nodded, "Regardless, what is the most important thing to doing that?"

"Um…" He blinked, thinking, "Willpower?"

"No! Or, well, yes, but…" Gnarl shook his head, "Strength and skill, Master. Strength and skill. The Gauntlet can bring you the former in spades, if you trust me, trust it. And skill? Bah! I am Gnarl, the oldest, most Evilest Minion! I'm older than the Kingdoms that gave birth to the Kingdoms that gave birth to the Kingdoms you know!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!" He nodded, bowing deeply, hand swept out to the side. "If you allow it, I will guide you. Shape you into the most powerful, er, Huntsman! That's right, the most powerful Huntsman this pitiful planet has ever, ever seen!"

"Really?" Jaune smiled, "You can teach me to fight!"

"And more!" Gnarl straightened, smiling, "I can teach you martial masteries! And arts arcane and so twisted even these base beasties you face-"

"Grimm." Jaune supplied helpfully.

"That even these Grimm, thank you Lord, will tremble to see it!" Gnarl raised a tiny fist, shaking it theatrically, and then swept and arm out over the Minions slowly filtering into the room. "And, more, I can give you an army! Minions may be daft and dim, but they are experts at ripping and tearing until it is very, very thoroughly done or they are very, very thoroughly dead! You could protect so many if you but ruled them, an inexhaustible army at your beck and call to shield them!"

"But…" He frowned, "I don't want to rule."

"All due respect, Lord, but bullshit." Jaune blinked, surprised, and Gnarl went on, "The Tower Heart would not have chosen you if you were not either ambitious enough or evil enough to draw its gaze. If you weren't a rule born, then you would be rotting in that canyon right now."

"But…" Jaune pursed his lips, drumming a finger on the throne's arm. "I don't want to be like… Like some kind in my old stories. Some cruel, dark tyrant looming over everyone."

"Why not?" Jaune's brows rose and Gnarl forced himself up, straightening with a pained grimace. "Ugh, bowing is fun… I should make Jester do it for me, getting too old for this shit. Anyways! Why not be a tyrant? Nothing in the rules says you can't be the single most tyrannical bastard that's ever be seen and not also be just a swell, swell guy! And even if it did, breaking things like rules is part and parcel of being Overlord!"

"But…"

"Like I said, the Heart chose you." Gnarl smiled, "Why, I'd bet my hide- Or, well, their hides, that you've already broken more than a couple rules yourself!"

Jaune couldn't argue with him there… He'd stolen Crocea Mors, snuck into the city, stolen money from his parents, and bought forged documents to apply to Beacon with. Some of which had to be illegal, he was sure!

"Alright." He finally sighed, pointing a long, armored finger at the Minion and frowning. "But this is just a test run. Got it? To… See if I can do this, I mean. If this will help people, it's worth a shot, right?"

"Of course, Master! Whatever your Evil heart desires!" Gnarl bowed his head, chuckling darkly and turning to peek up at him mid-gesture. "Now, that dealt with… Shall we see about restoring this Tower? Your Tower?"

"Yes." Jaune nodded, looking past the Minions as they all cheered and clapped, dancing with each other, to peer out at the stars. "Start with my room. And… Where on Remnant even are we?"

"The Northern continent, along one of its western coasts." Gnarl explained, padding up to him and turning to hum. "Afraid I don't know the name, Dark One. I did try asking the soldiers who were ransacking the last one, but they didn't answer. Ah, unless you think 'die you gangly shit' or 'ah, stop biting my leg' might be it? Jester got those for me, but I kind of doubt them…"

"Northern…" Jaune sighed, "Mantle, then. Great…"

Because that wasn't stupidly far from home.

"Wait," Jaune blinked, "how did you drag me here? This is another continent!"

"A Minion has to have his secrets, Master…" Gnarl chuckled, "Just enjoy being alive, hm?"

That… Was fair enough, he supposed.

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This is an idea I've wanted to revisit for a minute, lol. Hope ya like it. Outside Requests, I work on what I feel like, so expect more updates in future - but not necessarily on a schedule.