Glute drove the cart to the front of the evil overlord’s keep. He jumped down and, using the heavy brass knocker, pounded on the front door.

A butler answered. Surprisingly, he bore a gentlemanly demeanor, stood straight, and had just a light touch of grey at his temples. He wasn’t at all what Theodorus had expected.

“Is the evil overlord expecting you?” the butler asked in a prim and cultured accent.

“No,” Glute answered. “We were in the province and decided to stop by.”

“We?” The butler eyed Theodorus with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, we,” Theodorus snapped. “What’s the matter? You never seen a talking bear before?”

“In truth, sir, no, sir. However,” the butler said, “the evil overlord does not permit animals inside the castle . . . except for his dogs . . . and the cats, of course . . . and sometimes his favorite horse, when it’s cold outside. Oh, yes, and his hunting hawks, but birds don’t really count, do they?”

Glute smiled. “Did I mention I’m Glute Maximus, the famous gladiator?”

“No, sir, not that it matters.”

“And,” Glute continued, “I have a big match to get back for, so I’m in a hurry.”

“Jolly good for you, sir. I suggest you head on.”

“Or, that I’m feeling the need to pound someone into a pulp,” Glute said, balling a fist, “just to keep up my training?”

Staring at the fist, the butler stepped aside. “I’ll inform the evil overlord to expect you.”

“I thought that might influence you,” Glute said. “And the bear comes with me.”

The butler showed Glute and Theodorus to a small parlor room where tea and cakes were served. Evil always came after pleasantries. The contrast made the evil bit all the more heinous.