The Fortress of Unnecessary Complications (And Suspiciously Helpful Interior Design)

The interior of Shadowhold was far from what Mia had expected. Instead of dark corridors lined with torture devices and ominous artwork, she found herself in what appeared to be the lobby of a very upscale, if somewhat gothic, hotel. The floor was shiny black marble that reflected nonexistent chandelier lights, the walls were covered with tapestries that depicted scenes that changed like slow-moving movies, and there was indeed a reception desk staffed by a bow-tied skeleton.

"Good evening, madam," the skeleton replied courteously, his voice echoing slightly in a way that suggested his vocal cords were more theoretical than physical. "Welcome to Shadowhold. Will you be staying long?"

Mia stared at him through her faceplate. "This. It isn't what I expected."

"No one ever expects our hospitality," the skeleton replied with what might have been pride. "I'm Reginald, front desk manager and part-time tour guide. How may I assist you tonight?"

"I must locate the central control chamber."

"Ah, a technical guest! Excellent. The Mistress does so enjoy greeting persons who have an appreciation for her art." Reginald consulted a ledger that appeared to be bound in something Mia did not wish to identify. "Let's see. Central control chamber. Ah, yes, here we are. Sub-basement level seven, down the Corridor of Infinite Regret, past the Gallery of Abandoned Dreams, and down the Staircase of Questioning One's Life Choices."

"Do those actually have names?"

"The Mistress enjoys dramatic architecture."

"And you're just. Going to give me directions there? No challenges or riddles or attempting to prevent me?"

Reginald looked genuinely baffled. "Why would I attempt to prevent you? You're a guest. Besides, most guests who make it this far are quite determined. Attempting to dissuade them only leads to harm to the property."

Mia considered this. "Has anyone ever made it to the control chamber successfully?"

"Oh my, yes. Several heroes have called over the years. The Mistress enjoys the company. It does get a bit lonely in an isolated fortress, you know."

"What happened to the other heroes?"

"Oh, that would depend on how they arrived, wouldn't it? The ones who arrived shouting about justice and destiny and brandishing swords. Those visits tended to end poorly for everyone involved. But the more courteous visitors tended to stay for tea."

"Tea?"

"The Mistress does a lovely Earl Grey with just a hint of existential terror."

Mia decided that Shadowhold was officially the weirdest place she'd ever been, which was saying something after the last few weeks. "Could you. Point me in the right direction?"

" Of course! This way."

Reginald led her through a series of corridors that lived up to their names. The Corridor of Infinite Regret was lined with mirrors that reflected ever more embarrassing moments from her own life (including, unfortunately, her sixth-grade talent show routine). The Gallery of Abandoned Dreams featured paintings of all she'd ever dreamed of being when she grew up, but wasn't. The Staircase of Questioning One's Life Choices was more or less exactly what it sounded like, with each step prompting a fresh wave of self-doubt.

"Don't take it personally," Reginald said as they descended. "The architecture is magically enchanted to be emotionally challenging. Most visitors find it very therapeutic, in fact."

"It's like therapy, only worse."

"The Mistress prefers 'aggressively introspective.'"

They passed through several more rooms with names like the Antechamber of Mild Inconvenience (which featured doors that were just a bit too heavy and chairs that were just uncomfortable enough to be annoying) and the Hallway of Unnecessary Complexity (where the floor was tiled in a pattern that looked like it meant something but absolutely didn't).

"She really commits to the theme," Mia said.

"The Mistress believes that if you're going to be an evil sorceress, you might as well do it in style."

Finally, they arrived at a door that appeared more functional than dramatic. It was made of what appeared to be ordinary wood, with a simple brass handle and a small sign stating "Central Control - Please Knock."

"Here we are," said Reginald. "The Mistress is expecting you."

"She's expecting me?"

"Yes. She's been keeping an eye on your progress across the Wastes. She finds your approach quite. refreshing."

Mia knocked on the door.

"Enter!" exclaimed a merry voice from within.

The central control room was not what Mia had expected either. Instead of a dark chamber filled with bubbling potions and forbidden symbology, she found herself in what looked like the world's most high-tech magical computer lab. Crystal matrices hummed with energy, floating screens showed images from all around the fortress, and in the center of it all sat a woman who did not look like the ancient evil sorceress Mia had been imagining.

Morvana was a woman in her thirties, wit  dark hair pulled back into a practical ponytail and wearing robes that looked more like a lab coat than anything sorceress-y. She was bent over what appeared to be a magical keyboard, typing away as she consulted several floating displays.

"Just a moment," Morvana said, not looking up. "I'm debugging a spell subroutine and I'm almost. There!" She struck a final key with a sense of satisfaction. "Sorry about that. Technical work waits for no one, not even melodramatically timed confrontations with heroes."

She turned to Mia, and her face glowed with friendly pleasure. "You must be the new hero! I've been following your career with great interest. Please, sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Mia sat down gingerly in a chair that had clearly been designed for someone wearing bulky mechanical equipment. "You're. Not what I expected."

"No one ever suspects a practical evil sorceress," Morvana replied, busying herself with an ornate tea service that included a teapot shaped like a miniature dragon. "Everybody assumes we're devoting all our time to cackling and plotting in dark towers. But the truth is, effective world domination requires excellent project management skills."

"World domination?"

"Ah, rather more like sweeping social reform, but 'world domination' sells better." Morvana handed her a delicate cup of tea that had the scent of bergamot and possibility. "I've spent decades studying the kingdom's administrative systems, and to be frank, they're a mess. Bureaucratic inefficiency, outdated magical infrastructure, and don't even get me started on their resource allocation processes."

Mia sipped her tea, which was actually excellent and only mildly flavored with existential questions. "So your fiendish scheme is. Administrative reform?"

"Exactly! Although I prefer the term 'aggressive systems optimization.' The 'kidnapping the Archmage and stealing ancient artifacts' bit is mostly just for attention. Nobody listens to policy proposals, but everybody pays attention to a good evil scheme."

"That's. Kind of brilliant."

"Thank you! I've spent two decades on this project. The fortress, the dramatic presentations, the entire 'ancient evil stirs' story—it's all calculated to bring about a sense of crisis that will compel the kingdom to finally deal with its systemic issues."

Mia looked around the control room with new eyes. The crystal matrices weren't weapons—they were computer systems. The floating displays weren't magical monitors—they were running efficiency analyses of various government departments.

"The Codex of Binding you stole," she said slowly. "You're not going to destroy it, are you?"

"Heavens, no! I'm developing a new magical paradigm that will streamline inter-departmental communications. Do you know how long it takes to clear a simple permit in this kingdom? The typical magical research permit requires seventeen forms filed in nine offices!"

"That does sound inefficient."

"Criminally inefficient! And don't even get me started on their system of tax collection. They're still trying to finalize techniques they came up with three hundred years ago!"

Mia set her teacup down, her mind racing. "So you're not actually trying to conquer the kingdom."

"Well, technically I am, but by virtue of better administrative processes than armies of darkness." Morvana refilled Mia's cup. "Although I must say, your means of infiltrating my fortress was pure genius. Most heroes try to fight their way through the defenses. You treated the whole thing as a technical problem to be solved."

"Because it was a technical problem. The labyrinth, the emotional manipulation corridors, this discussion—it's all part of a sophisticated system that's designed to test visitors and sort them into categories."

"Quite so! Heroes who think with their swords go into the 'dramatic confrontation' pile and have to fight their way through increasingly dangerous obstacles until they give up or become so exhausted that they're ready to listen to reason. Heroes who think with their brains go into the 'reasonable conversation' pile and are invited in for a cup of tea."

Mia looked at the screens showing various parts of the fortress. On most of them, she could see intricate battle scenes playing out—other heroes fighting shadow creatures, dodging deadly traps, and solving impossible puzzles.

"Are those other heroes still?"

"They're fine. Tired and maybe reconsidering their approach to problem-solving, but fine. The fortress generates realistic yet ultimately harmless challenges based on what each guest expects to encounter. Everyone has exactly the adventure they're prepared for."

"This is the most complex job interview in history."

"I prefer to refer to it as a comprehensive skills assessment." Morvana smiled. "And you, my dear, have passed with flying colors. Your solution to the maze alone exhibited more creative thinking than I've seen from heroes in decades."

Mia's suspicion intensified. "The other heroes who 'disappeared'—they didn't die, did they?"

"Die? Don't be absurd! They're upstairs in the guest bedrooms, working on various administrative reform projects. Did you know that Sir Marcus of the Golden Lance has a background in logistics? He's optimizing our supply chain management. And Lady Vera the Truthseeker,i t transpires, had an aptitude for organization—she's reorganizing our filing system."

"You've been recruiting heroes to help with government reform."

"That's right! Heroes are smart, resourceful, and highly motivated. They make excellent administrative staff once you can break them of the 'kill everything with force' mentality."

Mia rocked back in her chair, trying to process this information. "There's no threat to the kingdom, then?"

"There's a danger of persistent systemic inefficiency leading to slow social and economic decline, but I would say that's more of a long-term existential crisis than an imminent apocalyptic one."

"And the Royal Council thinks you're going to incinerate it all."

"The Royal Council deliberates on many things, most of which are based on outdated information and bureaucratic inertia." Morvana's expression became more serious. "The truth is, I've been trying to arrange an audience with them for twenty-five years. But you can't get an audience with the Royal Council unless you're either a registered noble or an officially designated existential threat to the kingdom."

"So you became an officially recognized existential threat."

"It was the most effective method of getting their attention."

Mia started to laugh. She couldn't help it. The entire thing—the evil fortress that was actually an elaborate think tank, the ancient sorceress who was actually a frustrated policy analyst, the kidnapped heroes who were actually volunteer consultants—it was simultaneously the most ridiculous and most sensible thing she'd encountered since she'd arrived in Eldoria.

"I'm sorry," she said, still laughing. "It's just. This isn't how I thought this would go."

"I suppose not. Most heroes expect a last battle, not a job offer."

Mia's laughter stopped. "Job offer?"

Morvana leaned forward, her expression sobering. "I've seen exactly the kind of thinking outside the box that I need. Your background in data entry and customer service makes you uniquely qualified to understand bureaucratic inefficiency, and your complete and utter lack of assumptions about 'how things are supposed to be done' in this world means you have a naivety of approach that could quite possibly be invaluable."

"You want me to help you reorganize the kingdom's government."

"I require your help to save the kingdom from itself. Things cannot continue as they are, and if we do not implement some significant reforms, Eldoria will be in dire straits within a decade. Economic collapse, resource exhaustion, social unrest—all preventable with proper planning and implementation."

Mia looked around the control room again, now seeing it for what it really was: the headquarters of the most complex consulting firm in magical history.

"What about the Jeweled Blade? The prophecy? The whole 'chosen hero' thing?"

"The blade chose you because you have the qualities needed to actually solve problems rather than just fight them. And as for the prophecy." Morvana smiled. "Elena of Willowbrook is a very talented oracle. Her retroactive prophetic utterance was a masterpiece of creative interpretation."

"You know about Elena's fake prophecy?"

"Fake? My dear child, the prophecy is very real. Elena simply figured out what you were truly chosen to do before anyone else did, yourself included."

Mia felt the Jeweled Blade pulse against her hip, and for the first time since she'd arrived in Eldoria, everything made ideal sense. She wasn't chosen to fight an ancient evil—she was chosen to help with an ancient problem.

"So," Morvana refilled both their teacups. "What do you say? Do you wish to save the world by root-and-branch administrative reform?"

Mia thought of her old job—the endless data inputting, the irate clients, the systems that never quite worked as they ought. Then she thought of the past week—the thrill, the purpose, the feeling that she was finally doing something that counted.

"Where do I start?" she cried out.