Then he heard the swish of a robe across the leafmould, and the thud of a staff hitting the floor.

Bollocks.

“Hi, Master,” he said, rising to his feet. “How’s it all going?”

“We’ve spoken about this before, Archibald,” Villon said, shaking out his flared sleeves. “You aren’t
supposed to just greet me like I’m your friend from down the pub. We have standards to maintain,
after all.” His eyes narrowed as he took a proper look at Archie. “And where is your hump?”

“My apologies, Master,” Archie said, bowing to hide the expression on his face. I know exactly where
you can shove that bloody hump, he thought. You only make me wear it so you look good by
comparison, I know you do.

“And what has happened to your voice?” Villon demanded.

“My voice, Master?” Archibald asked, still facing the ground.

“Yes, your voice,” Villon repeated. “What has happened to your lisp?”

The glare Archie directed at the soil below him could have fried a small mammal. “Thorry, Mathter,”
he said.

Absolutely barking mad, he thought to himself. A genius, of course, that went without saying… but
utterly mad, all the same.

“Better,” Villon said. “But I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this, Archibald. You must do better.
Now,” he said, turning away and so luckily missing Archie’s swiftly-flicked V in his direction, “the
Things need feeding.”

Oh, great. There goes the day with my feet up, thought Archie. Bloody Dark Lords and their bloody
plans.

“Weren’t they fed three dayth ago, Marthter?” he said. It wouldn’t make any difference, of course,
but he was damned if he was going down there without a fight. Those Things were bloody horrible.

“And now they need feeding again,” Villon declared. “So, go on. Do as you’re told, before I
get…angry.”

Archie winced at the dramatic pause, but turned to do as Villon had asked anyway. He began to
stride towards the main school building, the one where they’d found that

“Limp!” Villon shouted at his back. “Limp, damn you! You’re a Dark Lord’s servant!”

With a flare of rebellion, Archie put on as exaggerated a limp as he could manage as he walked.

Still, he thought, you couldn’t deny that the man was doing a good job of the Dark Lording. Not only
was he treating his servant like dirt, which was, after all, a staple of the industry, but…well, look at
Q.U.E.S.T. Bane of Dark Lords throughout the centuries, so he understood, though admittedly he still
couldn’t quite work out exactly what they’d done… but then, that was the point, wasn’t it? Done.
Past tense. No more Q.U.E.S.T.

He was big on the whole narrative convention thing, was the Master.
Archie just wished he’d tone down the melodrama a little, that was all.