I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 28: The Dukes Arrival

"Alright," Darin said slowly, rubbing his temples. "Let's go through this one more time. Just so I can properly process how stupid my life has become."

He pointed at the king, who was currently far too amused by all of this. "You seriously just gave my cat a government position."

The king nodded. "Yes."

Darin turned to Vincent. "And you think this is a good idea?"

Vincent smirked. "Oh, absolutely. It's hilarious."

Darin turned to the sorceress. "And you?"

She shrugged. "Honestly? This is the most interesting thing to happen in politics in years. I'm invested."

Darin inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again.

Then he turned to the cat.

Grumble, his tiny, shadow-infused, too-smug-for-his-own-good familiar, was lounging on the royal council table like he belonged there. His golden eyes gleamed with the lazy confidence of someone who knew he was untouchable.

"You," Darin muttered. "This is all your fault."

Grumble flicked his tail.

Vincent clapped a hand on Darin's shoulder. "Come on, you should be proud. Your familiar is climbing the ranks faster than most nobles."

Darin groaned. "I hate this kingdom."

The king ignored his suffering entirely. "Now that your familiar has a title, we should discuss his role in governance."

Darin choked. "His what?!"

The king leaned forward. "He is now a recognized court entity. Which means he must have duties."

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Darin opened his mouth, but no words came out. His brain had short-circuited.

The king turned to his scribe. "Make a note—The Grand Shadow Beast of the Court shall act as an advisor in all matters of diplomacy."

Darin slammed his hands on the table. "HE'S A CAT."

The king tilted his head. "And?"

Darin looked around the room, waiting for someone to agree with him.

The sorceress just raised an eyebrow.

Vincent grinned.

The scribe was already writing.

Darin groaned and dropped his head onto the table. "I am going to die of stress. Right here. Right now."

To make things worse, the king had called for an emergency council meeting.

Which meant Darin was now trapped in a room full of advisors, generals, and nobles—all trying very hard to pretend this wasn't completely insane.

Darin slumped in his chair, arms crossed, while Grumble sat atop the council table like he was already running the kingdom.

The head diplomat cleared his throat. "Regarding the recent tensions with the Eastern Alliance—should we seek negotiations?"

The king hummed. "An important question."

Then, with a completely straight face, he turned to Grumble.

"What do you think, Grand Shadow Beast?"

Darin froze.

The entire council room went silent.

Grumble, basking in his newfound political influence, yawned.

The diplomat gasped. "The Shadow Beast signals boredom with diplomacy!"

Darin slammed his hands on the table. "NO, HE DOES NOT. THAT IS JUST WHAT CATS DO."

The war minister nodded solemnly. "Then we must consider a more aggressive strategy."

Darin paled. "WAIT. NO. DO NOT BASE MILITARY DECISIONS ON A CAT."

The king steepled his fingers. "Interesting. Perhaps a show of force would better align with the will of the Shadow Beast."

Darin pointed at Grumble, seething. "You. Are. The. Worst."

Grumble blinked at him.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he knocked over an ink bottle.

The ink spilled across a map of the Eastern Alliance's territory.

The room gasped.

Vincent whistled. "Damn. Ruthless."

The diplomat whispered, "A symbolic rejection of Eastern sovereignty..."

Darin nearly screamed. "NO. IT. IS. NOT."

The scribe was already writing.

The king nodded. "Then it is decided. We shall apply strategic pressure."

Darin buried his face in his hands. "I cannot believe I am watching an actual government take orders from my demonic housecat."

Darin had lost control.

Because in the span of two hours, his accidentally summoned shadow cat had gone from menace to government figure to diplomatic entity with an official seat at the royal court.

Which meant Grumble was now a recognized noble.

A cat.

A tiny, smug, furniture-destroying cat.

With more political power than Darin.

"This is a crime against common sense," Darin muttered, rubbing his temples as the palace staff scurried around setting up Grumble's new royal accommodations.

"Correction," Vincent said, looking far too amused, "this is the greatest thing to ever happen."

Darin glared at him.

Vincent gestured at the scene around them. "Look at it this way—he's handling politics for you. That means you don't have to do anything."

Darin pointed at the absurd sight before them.

In just two hours, the royal court had accomplished the following:

A miniature throne had been commissioned and delivered at record-breaking speed. It was now placed next to the king's throne like some kind of tiny shadow ruler.

A royal cloak was being tailored for Grumble—black silk with gold embroidery to match Darin's supposed dark aesthetic.

A law was drafted that required all foreign diplomats to present an offering to Grumble before official meetings. (The first suggested offering was a plate of fresh fish, which Grumble immediately rejected because he was apparently too good for common fish.)

A palace wing was now being converted into The Grand Shadow Beast's Quarters.

A holy order of scribes had begun documenting Grumble's "decrees."

Darin grabbed Vincent's arm. "Do you understand how stupid this is?"

Vincent shrugged. "I mean... it's kind of brilliant."

"It is not brilliant! It is the opposite of brilliant!" Darin turned to the king, who was watching the entire situation unfold with the most insufferable look of amusement. "You're really letting this happen?"

The king steepled his fingers. "I'm merely observing the will of the people."

"The people are idiots."

The king chuckled. "Then they will follow their chosen symbol all the more easily."

Darin threw up his hands. "He's a cat!"

"He's a symbol," the king corrected smoothly.

"A symbol of what?"

The king gestured vaguely. "Mystery. Power. Unpredictability."

Darin pointed violently at Grumble. "He is unpredictable because he is a cat. That is not strategy! That is just how cats are!"

As if to prove his point, Grumble casually stretched out a paw—and slowly knocked over a ceremonial goblet from the council table.

It hit the floor with a dramatic clang.

The room went dead silent.

A court advisor gasped. "The Shadow Beast rejects the formality of the council's offerings!"

The royal scribe scribbled furiously.

Darin felt his soul leave his body. "It was just a cup."

The war minister nodded solemnly. "A rejection of traditional power structures. A bold statement."

"It was just a cup."

The high priest clasped his hands. "Perhaps a sign that we must abandon old traditions..."

"It. Was. A. Cup."

The king, clearly enjoying himself, hummed. "Interesting. Perhaps we should consider reforming—"

Darin grabbed his head. "NO. DO NOT BASE POLITICAL REFORMS ON A CAT KNOCKING OVER A CUP."

Vincent patted his back. "Too late, buddy. It's already happening."

Darin turned to the sorceress, his last hope. "Please. Please tell them how stupid this is."

She shrugged. "Honestly? This reminds me of steves shenanigans back in the village."

Darin slumped into a chair, defeated.

Grumble, lounging smugly on his tiny throne, yawned.

And then, because of course this day wasn't bad enough—

The doors to the chamber burst open.

The room snapped to attention as a tall, imposing figure strode into the chamber.

He was broad-shouldered, dressed in dark noble attire, with a golden brooch in the shape of a wolf's head. His black coat was lined with silver trim, and his piercing gray eyes swept over the council like a predator assessing prey.

Darin immediately disliked him.

The noble stopped before the king's throne, his gloved hands resting at his sides.

"Your Majesty," the man said, his voice smooth, composed. "I apologize for my late arrival."

The king inclined his head. "Duke Varian. What an unexpected surprise."

Darin tensed.

Duke?

Oh no.

Duke Varian's gaze flicked across the room—and landed directly on Darin.

Darin froze.

The duke studied him for a long, silent moment. Then his lips curved into something very much not a smile.

"So," Varian murmured. "We finally meet."

Darin immediately hated everything about that sentence.

He leaned toward Vincent. "Why did he say that like he's been hunting me?"

Vincent whispered back, "Because he has."

Darin's stomach dropped. "...WHAT."

Before he could process this new nightmare, Duke Varian turned to the king.

"I have spent months tracking the false overlord." His gaze flicked back to Darin. "Imagine my surprise when I arrive at the palace only to find him seated at your royal council."

Darin pointed at Vincent violently. "YOU KNEW?!"

Vincent grinned. "Yeah. But I figured you'd find out eventually."

Darin grabbed his own face. "OH MY GODS."

The king exhaled. "Duke Varian, I trust you will not be causing a disturbance?"

Varian smiled politely. "Of course not, Your Majesty. I simply wished to confirm the rumors."

His sharp gaze locked onto Darin.

"I see now that they were all true."

Darin immediately turned to the king. "I request political asylum. Right now. Immediately."

The king sipped his wine. "Mmm. Denied."

"WHAT?!"

Varian smirked. "This will be fun."

Darin slammed his head against the table. "I am going to die, like seriously die."

And across the room, Grumble, his very terrible, politically overpowered cat, purred in absolute amusement.