The Evil Emperor gazed out over the realm. His gauntlet made a horrid scraping noise against his helmet as he watched, but he only had a few minutes before he’d return to his… less than conscious self.

So, he contemplated.

He thought of his enemies, the Chosen One and his Companions. He thought of his domain, of the cockroaches that are those pesky Prince and Princess. And, most importantly, he thought of Her.

His eye of darkness had been opened when it locked gazes with She Who Should Be Dead. He never really learned her name. She was supposed to be just another thing he sacrificed to control this realm.

And yet, she’s still alive.

“I killed her,” He thought, “I watched my blade cut through her neck as she was held at my mercy. Yet, against all odds or meaning, she was still alive.”

He pulled back to look at the back of his gauntlet, in all it’s dreadful glory. It’s black metal polished to a ravenous gleam. The spikes suited to punching his enemies beneath his sheer martial might. Yet with fine dark silk, to allow the delicate hand movements needed for more tricky magics.

A fine instrument of dominion.

And he can’t remember ever putting it on. Or taking it off, for that matter.

He reached his other hand over, and started undoing the straps that held it onto the rest of his armor. It took a few of his precious moments, but his curiosity must know. He finished with the straps, and grasped it to begin pulling it off.

In a flash, he felt like he was suddenly pummeled over all corners of his mind, as some alien force attacked. Naturally, since he’s a master of his mental realm, just as he’s the master of his physical one, he tried to defend, be it counter offences, or simply blocking. Yet, nothing worked.

A moment passed, and he found himself back in his throne, at the back of the throne room. A quick glance revealed that all the straps on his gauntlet were redone, still with the same polish.

“When did I last get my armor polished? Regardless,” He clenched his gauntlet into a fist, the sudden clash of metal on metal scratching out a foreboding sound, “Something is trying to control me.”

He felt the crawl of the routine start pulling him into it. He growled, “I will break free, of whatever seeks to have me under its thumb! I am nothing and no one’s play toy!”

And after a soundless moment, he returned to staring balefully at the ground, where a few slaves ran around, getting exactly nothing done.

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The Evil Emperor found himself still sitting on his chair, next time he broke free of the Routine. Looking around revealed his normal slaves doing their normal slave things. He had his lessers deal with the minutia. At least… He thinks he did. When did he give that order?

Struck with an idea, he raised his voice towards the slave carrying a weighty looking stone from the left of the room, to the right, then back again, “Slave! Come forth!”

Shuddering, the slave in question continued it’s task of moving the stone.

Now, the Evil Emperor shouted, “SLAVE! COME FORTH, NOW!”

With a truly violent spasm, the slave dropped it’s stone, an inch or two from it’s exposed toes. It hurried over, and bowed before the Evil Emperor, “Y-yes, Lord Evil Emperor Master, sir?”

He waved his right dark gauntlet, before looming over the slave, “I wish for you to do something for me.”

“Of, of course, Lord Evil Emperor Master, sir. What, what would you have me do?” The slave stuttered out.

The Evil Emperor lowered his right hand over the side of the royal throne, “Take off my gauntlet, and place it before me.”

The slave paused for a moment, before leaping to action, “Right away, Lord Evil Emperor Master, sir!”

The slave slowly approached the gauntlet, gulping audibly as it slowly reached it’s hands towards the clasps. With gratingly slow movements, it got the buckles all undone then grabbed the back of the hand plate, and tugged it.

Immediately, the Evil Emperor is struck into the realm of chaos, for that is the only fitting name for this world of infinite meaninglessness. He struggles under the onslaught of pressure and reaches out, grasping for anything. He falls short, and returns to his throne, gauntlet polished and buckled up.

He heaves a great sigh, and returns his gaze to his slaves, noticing the one he ordered had gone back to moving the stone back and forth, though now it was stealing glances his way. Another failed attempt. “At least now that slave seems to properly fear my presence. Maybe I should see about getting the rest to realize my greatness,” He considered, “But not too much looking, they must still continue their… work.”

The Evil Emperor watched as another slave was cleaning one particular spot on the floor with a small handbrush. “Though, perhaps I should order some mops. Maybe then this place will get some proper light reflecting onto my majesty.”

A moment of contemplation passed, then an icy cold ran through his veins, as the routine re asserted its hold over him, and he rested his head on his gauntlet, gazing emptily into the middle distance.

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His next period of clarity struck him, and he regarded his slightly changed throne room. There was now a small stack of identical stone pieces, with the slave from before struggling to lift one.

“Slave!” It startled, letting the stone go to complete it’s heroic journey directly onto the slave’s big toe. It let out a long hissing note. “Note to self, get an imperial bard to play in my throne room. That note sounded a smidge away from something decent.”

After holding the sound for a few seconds, the slave lifted the block and limped over to his throne, “Yes, Lord Evil Emperor Master, Sir?”

“Fetch the majordomo.”

The slave nodded, “Of course, Lord Evil Emperor Master, Sir!”