I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 81: The Duchess’ Audience

The dwarven wine was strong. Duchess Mary of House Jade liked her wine strong.

She swirled the deep red liquid in her goblet, leaned back in her overstuffed chair, and let out a sigh that would've made an old war general pause.

"Retirement," she muttered, eyes half-lidded, watching the flames of the fireplace flicker. "Eighty years of gloriously defending the north and I finally get an excuse to sit down. And now they send me—"

She hiccuped once. Waved it off.

"some boy."

She took another sip. Then smirked.

"This 'Overlord.' The one making nobles cry and priests riot." She glanced sideways at her ever-silent, ever-suffering butler. "What do they call him again, Remington?"

The butler adjusted his cuffs without looking up. "Darin, Duchess. The capital calls him the Overlord of the People. Some call him the Accidental Prophet. Others refer to him as Lord Disaster."

Mary grinned. "Lord Disaster. Oh, I like that one."

She raised her goblet, then paused. "Right. Summon him. I want an audience. The King says he's to replace me one day. Pfft. We'll see."

Remington bowed his head. "Shall I request his presence alone?"

Mary waved her hand lazily. "If he's shy, he can bring friends. Let's see what kind of 'fun' the King has dumped on my doorstep."

She set her goblet down with a heavy clink.

"My retirement depends on this. He better not disappoint me."

At Camp Darin….

Darin had just finished lecturing Vincent on why you don't try to enchant your sword mid-meal when the royal messenger arrived.

He wasn't subtle.

A man in Jade livery galloped through the camp on a spotless black horse, eyes scanning the rows of tents and soldiers until he spotted Darin standing near the main forge.

He pulled up sharply, dismounted, and bowed.

"Lord Darin. Her Grace, Duchess Mary of House Jade, requests your presence in Fort Blackthorn. Immediately."

Alvin narrowed his eyes. "Sounds like trouble."

The messenger cleared his throat. "She says you may bring your… companions if you are uncomfortable."

Darin squinted. "...Is that code for 'this is going to be awful'?"

The messenger didn't answer.

Vincent, who was sitting on a nearby crate fiddling with a dagger and a meat skewer, immediately perked up. "Audience with the Duchess? Ohoho! That sounds serious. Time to polish the ol' noble charm."

Alvin rolled his eyes. "Don't polish anything. Just sit there and look less annoying."

"I'll have you know I once made a duchess in the south laugh so hard she spat wine."

"She was choking."

"Because I'm hilarious."

Darin waved them both down. "Alright, alright. You're both coming."

The Sorceress appeared behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "So the Duchess calls at last."

"You coming too?" Darin asked.

She smirked. "Obviously."

The butler didn't even flinch. "Shall I prepare refreshments for the Overlord's entourage?"

Darin sighed. "Sure. Add that to my growing list of things I never thought I'd hear."

As the group followed the butler up the winding path to the fortress gates, Grumble padded behind them, tail flicking lazily, while Steve trotted proudly at Darin's side like a loyal, steak-obsessed bodyguard.

The guards at the gate stiffened as they approached—but one glance at Steve (and probably Grumble) made them quickly step aside.

Darin sighed. "Fine. Let's go meet the woman whose retirement depends on me not being a complete idiot."

At Fort Blackthorn….

The fortress loomed like a mountain carved into the stone itself. Massive black walls. Ramparts covered in frost. Towers that glowed faintly with warding runes.

It was impressive.

And terrifying.

Darin tried not to look like he was thinking about running away.

Steve padded along beside him like a wingless dragon, his tail flicking curiously. Grumble was perched on his usual spot, Darin's shoulder—lazily flicking his tail, his glowing eyes narrowed at the guards like he was deciding which one he'd maul first if provoked.

They entered the great hall.

And everything stopped.

At the far end, reclining in a high-backed stone throne like she owned the entire continent (which, in a way, she did), sat Duchess Mary.

Silver hair fell around her shoulders like moonlight. Her eyes, sharp and violet, gleamed with curiosity and something more dangerous. Her armor wasn't ceremonial, it was worn, polished, and real. Every movement spoke of strength, and every inch of her screamed: do not test me.

Vincent, for once, said nothing.

Alvin, also for once, said less than nothing.

Both stood there, their jaws very much in "oh no she's hot" mode.

The Sorceress walked in behind Darin, glanced at Mary, and then at Darin.

He hadn't changed. Still looked like himself—awkward, confused, barely keeping up with the mess around him.

She exhaled in relief.

Darin, however, had other problems.

Because the Overlord in his head was thriving.

"WooOOooOooh—woweee! The Jade family's hotness did not skip a generation. Their descendants are still as dangerously beautiful as ever."

"You could topple kingdoms with that kind of beauty. I almost did. Twice."

Darin gritted his teeth and thought, Not. The. Time.

"Listen, I'm just saying—if she challenges you to a duel, let her step on you. Or don't. Either way, what a woman."

Mary raised a brow as they approached. "So. This is the famous Overlord."

"Name's Darin," he said, voice steady despite the internal screaming. "Blacksmith. Overlord. Amateur monster magnet. Also, apparently, the so to be Defender of the North in training."

Mary smirked. "You forgot 'Accidental Cult Leader.' That one's my favorite."

Darin winced. "Yeah. That one kind of stuck."

She stood up slowly, and somehow the room felt smaller.

"You brought your friends?"

Vincent straightened like a student caught misbehaving. "Yes, Your Grace. Vincent Ravenshire. At your service."

Alvin gave a small nod. "Alvin Ravenshire."

Mary's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ravenshire. Mm. Your father's still annoying."

Vincent grinned. "That's how you know he's alive."

Mary chuckled, then looked at the Sorceress. "And you…"

The Sorceress stepped forward. "Former. Long story."

Mary tilted her head. "We'll talk."

Then she turned back to Darin. "So. The King sends me a retirement present, and instead of a bottle of wine, I get a man who causes civil unrest and topples monsters."

Darin scratched the back of his neck. "To be fair, the unrest came first."

She took a step closer.

Darin didn't flinch.

She looked him over. Studied him. Not like she was evaluating a soldier.

Like she was evaluating a weapon.

Finally, she nodded.

"Alright. You don't look like much. But maybe you're the kind of trouble the North needs."

"Glad to be of service," Darin replied dryly.

Mary stared at him for a long beat.

Then, with a soft chuckle. "I'll be honest. I expected someone taller."

"He shrinks under pressure," Alvin muttered.

"Only when you talk," Darin shot back.

Mary grinned wider. "So. What's your plan, my dear 'Overlord'? I've got a fortress, a reputation, and enough nobles sniffing around this region to make a hunting hound jealous. You planning to conquer this place or just loiter till I drop dead of boredom?"

Darin paused, then said, "Honestly? Neither. I just want my people safe. We've got the troops, the materials, and the strength to make a real stand. If you let us."

Mary's smirk softened slightly. "So no ambition?"

"Too tired for ambition," Darin said. "Had a queen ant trying to kill me three days ago."

"She had mandibles the size of my mansion," Vincent added. "It was amazing."

Mary studied him again. "You're not what I expected. The King made it sound like you were some wild card genius with a messiah complex."

"He's half right," the Sorceress muttered.

Mary tilted her head. "You're stronger than you look. Aura?"

"Barely stage two," Darin admitted. "But I'm learning. Sort of."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "And that hammer?"

"He swings it dramatically and sometimes things die."

"Mostly myself," Darin muttered. "But I'm getting better."

Mary laughed. A real laugh, short and sharp. Then she turned and walked back toward her throne.

"Well, darin," she said, turning and dropping back into her seat, "you've got a provisional place here. I don't trust you. But I do like chaos. And you've brought plenty of that."

"So… I passed?"

"Provisional," she repeated. "Don't disappoint me. Because if I lose my fishing years because of your dumb face, I will feed you to your own dragon."

Steve chirped innocently. He was chewing on the decorative carpet.

"Understood," Darin said.

Mary clapped her hands.

"Now. Come. Eat. Drink. You've earned it, apparently. We'll talk tactics and expectations tomorrow. Tonight, you tell me your story."

Darin glanced at the others, then smiled. "Sure. But I should warn you…"

He patted Steve on the head and shifted Grumble on his shoulder.

"It's a weird story."

Vincent and Alvin finally relaxed.

The Sorceress didn't. But she smiled—just a little.

Somehow, they'd made it through the Reaper Forest, survived the ants, absorbed abomination cores, and built the beginnings of an army.

And now… they'd reached the North.

The real vacation was about to begin.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

Or so they thought.