Marcus had been Lord Boros for exactly three days, seven hours, and approximately forty-two minutes when he decided that he was going to lose his mind if he did not punch something.
It was not a decision he had expected to make. In his previous life, Marcus Chen had been the kind of person who avoided physical confrontation at all costs, the kind of person who would cross the street to avoid a group of intimidating-looking teenagers, the kind of person whose idea of exercise was walking to the refrigerator during commercial breaks. Violence had been something that happened to other people, preferably fictional people in anime that he could watch from the safety of his computer chair.
But that was before he had been reincarnated into a body that was designed for combat on a molecular level.
The problem, Marcus had discovered, was that Boros's body did not like being still. It did not like sitting in thrones and listening to reports and signing off on administrative documents. It wanted to MOVE, wanted to FIGHT, wanted to feel the exhilaration of battle that had been its primary purpose for thousands of years. Every moment that Marcus spent not fighting was a moment where his new instincts screamed at him to find an opponent, to test himself, to experience the joy of combat that Boros had spent his entire existence seeking.
It was like being trapped in a sports car that was constantly revving its engine, desperate to be let loose on an open road. Except the sports car was his body, and the open road was apparently punching people really hard.
Marcus had tried to ignore the instincts at first. He had focused on learning about his new empire, on studying the reports that came across his desk, on trying to understand the political situation he had inherited. He had discovered that the Dark Matter Thieves controlled approximately thirty percent of the known galaxy, that they had subjugated over a thousand worlds and species, and that the Saiyan race served as the backbone of their military operations.
He had also discovered that being an immortal alien conqueror was incredibly, mind-numbingly boring.
There was nothing to DO. The empire ran itself, more or less, with his commanders handling the day-to-day operations and only bringing him matters of significant importance. The Saiyans were efficient soldiers who rarely required his direct intervention. The conquered worlds paid their tributes and provided their resources without complaint, because they had learned long ago what happened to those who defied Lord Boros.
Marcus had all the power in the universe, and absolutely nothing to use it on.
So on the morning of his fourth day as Lord Boros, Marcus made a decision that his past self would have found completely insane.
He was going to ask Nappa for a sparring match.
The young Saiyan had been a constant presence at his side for the past three days, performing his duties as personal aide with a dedication that bordered on fanaticism. Marcus had learned that being assigned to serve Lord Boros directly was considered a great honor among the Saiyans, a stepping stone to higher positions within the empire's hierarchy. Nappa, despite his youth, was already one of the more powerful Saiyan warriors, and his assignment to Boros was meant to provide him with experience and training that would make him even stronger.
It was also, Marcus suspected, a test. King Vegeta had probably assigned Nappa to this position to have a spy close to the Dominator, someone who could report on Boros's activities and look for weaknesses that could be exploited.
Marcus did not mind. He had nothing to hide—well, nothing that Nappa could possibly discover. The secret of his reincarnation was not something that could be detected by observation alone, and as long as he continued to act like Lord Boros, no one would ever suspect that the being behind the eye was a confused anime nerd from another dimension.
"Nappa," Marcus said, turning to face the young Saiyan who stood at attention by the door of his personal chambers. "I require entertainment."
Nappa straightened even further, if that was possible. "My lord? What kind of entertainment do you desire? I can arrange for performers, or perhaps a hunt on one of the nearby game worlds—"
"No," Marcus interrupted, and he felt his single eye narrow in what he hoped was an imperious expression. "I wish to fight. It has been too long since I have tested myself against an opponent. You will spar with me."
The expression on Nappa's face was priceless.
It went through about seven different emotions in the span of two seconds, cycling from confusion to surprise to fear to disbelief to excitement to more fear and finally settling on a kind of terrified determination that Marcus found oddly endearing.
"M-my lord," Nappa stammered, and Marcus noted with amusement that this was the first time he had heard the young Saiyan's voice waver. "You wish to... spar? With ME?"
"Is there a problem?" Marcus asked, letting a hint of danger creep into his voice. It was surprisingly easy to sound threatening when you were a seven-foot-tall alien with claws and a single giant eye. "Are you refusing my request?"
"No! No, of course not, Lord Boros!" Nappa practically shouted, his Saiyan pride warring with his very reasonable fear of fighting a being who could destroy planets. "I am honored by your... your invitation. I merely... I was surprised. You have never requested a sparring partner before."
That was interesting information. In all of Boros's long existence, he had apparently never asked anyone to spar with him, probably because the power gap between him and everyone else was so vast that it would have been pointless. Fighting someone so much weaker than you was not training; it was just bullying.
But Marcus was not looking for training.
He was looking for an outlet, a way to satisfy the combat instincts that were driving him crazy, and also—though he would never admit this out loud—a way to test the limits of his new body in a controlled environment.
"There is a first time for everything," Marcus said. "We will use the training facility on the lower decks. You have one hour to prepare."
Nappa bowed so deeply that his forehead almost touched the floor. "Yes, my lord! I will not disappoint you!"
The young Saiyan practically ran out of the room, and Marcus could hear him whooping with excitement as he sprinted down the corridor. Apparently, the prospect of fighting Lord Boros was enough to overcome any fear, because what could be more Saiyan than testing yourself against the strongest being in the universe?
Marcus shook his head—a strange sensation with his elongated skull—and began making his own preparations.
The training facility on the lower decks of Boros's flagship was a marvel of alien engineering. It was a massive chamber, easily the size of several football fields combined, with walls made of some kind of reinforced material that could absorb tremendous amounts of damage without breaking. The floor was covered in a smooth, slightly springy surface that was designed to cushion impacts, and the ceiling was so high that it disappeared into darkness.
This, according to Marcus's memories, was where Boros had trained during the long years of traveling between stars. He had spent centuries in this room, pushing his body to its limits, trying to grow stronger in the hope of one day finding an opponent who could give him a real challenge.
It was also, Marcus realized as he stepped inside, completely empty except for himself and Nappa.
The young Saiyan was already waiting when Marcus arrived, standing in the center of the training floor with his arms crossed and a confident smirk on his face. He had changed out of his standard uniform into training gear, and Marcus could see the muscles rippling beneath his skin as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Nappa was strong, at least by Saiyan standards. Marcus could sense his power level—another ability that came with Boros's body, the ability to perceive the ki of other beings—and it was impressive for someone so young. In the original Dragon Ball timeline, Nappa had been strong enough to give the Z Fighters serious trouble, and this younger version showed the potential that would eventually be realized.
But compared to Boros, Nappa's power was like a candle compared to a supernova.
The gap was so vast that Marcus almost felt bad about what he was about to do.
Almost.
"Are you ready?" Marcus asked, settling into a fighting stance that came to him naturally, a product of Boros's millennia of combat experience. His body knew how to fight even if his mind did not, and he trusted those instincts to guide him through whatever was about to happen.
Nappa's smirk widened into a full grin. "I was born ready, Lord Boros! I may not be able to defeat you, but I swear on my Saiyan pride that I will give you a fight worth remembering!"
With that, Nappa launched himself at Marcus with a speed that would have been invisible to human eyes.
To Boros's eye, he might as well have been moving in slow motion.
Marcus watched the Saiyan approach, tracking his trajectory with perfect clarity, and felt something stir in his chest that he did not immediately recognize. It took him a moment to identify the sensation, because it was so foreign to his old life, so completely at odds with who Marcus Chen had been.
It was excitement.
Not the kind of excitement you get from watching a good anime or eating your favorite food. This was primal, visceral, the excitement of a predator that has finally found prey after a long hunt. It was the excitement of a body designed for combat finally being allowed to do what it was made for.
Nappa's fist came toward Marcus's face, and Marcus moved.
He did not think about moving. He did not plan his actions or calculate his response. He simply MOVED, his body reacting on instinct, and suddenly he was behind Nappa with his hand resting gently on the Saiyan's shoulder.
"Too slow," Marcus said, and he was surprised by how calm his voice sounded. "Again."
Nappa spun around, his eyes wide with shock, and launched another attack. And another. And another. He threw punches and kicks, he fired ki blasts, he even attempted to grab Marcus and throw him, but nothing worked. Marcus was always somewhere else, always one step ahead, always moving with a grace and speed that made the Saiyan's best efforts look clumsy by comparison.
It was not even a contest.
It was barely even exercise.
And yet, despite the one-sided nature of the fight, Marcus found himself enjoying it. There was something satisfying about the way his body moved, about the perfect control he had over every muscle and tendon, about the sheer JOY of physical expression that he had never experienced in his previous life.
Is this what it feels like to be strong? Marcus wondered as he dodged another of Nappa's attacks. Is this what athletes feel when they push their bodies to the limit?
The thought was interrupted by a massive explosion of energy as Nappa, clearly frustrated by his inability to land a single hit, transformed into his Great Ape form.
Marcus had not been expecting that.
One moment, Nappa was a relatively normal-sized Saiyan warrior, and the next moment he was a fifty-foot-tall ape monster with glowing red eyes and enough power to destroy cities. The transformation happened in an instant, triggered by—Marcus looked up and saw it—a device on the ceiling that was projecting artificial moonlight, the same technique the Saiyans used when they needed to transform without access to a natural moon.
The Great Ape form was one of the Saiyans' most powerful weapons, multiplying their already impressive strength by a factor of ten. It was the form that had allowed the Saiyan race to conquer dozens of worlds, the form that made them feared across the galaxy.
Against Boros, it was still nowhere near enough.
"RAAAAAAARGH!" Great Ape Nappa roared, and he brought his massive fist down toward Marcus with enough force to crater the ground.
Marcus caught the fist with one hand.
It was not even difficult. The impact traveled up his arm like a gentle breeze, barely registering against the unimaginable durability of Boros's body. He held the giant ape's fist in place, looking up at the creature that towered over him, and felt a flicker of disappointment.
Was this really the best the Saiyans had to offer?
In his memories, Boros recalled the disappointment he had felt after conquering Planet Vegeta, the realization that even the vaunted warrior race was no match for him. The Great Apes had been impressive, certainly, but they had fallen just as easily as their smaller forms, their increased power meaning nothing against a being who had surpassed all mortal limits millennia ago.
"Enough," Marcus said, and he released Nappa's fist and took a single step back. "Transform back. This sparring session is over."
Great Ape Nappa hesitated, the beast's instincts warring with the intelligence that still lurked behind those red eyes, but after a moment the Saiyan managed to reassert control. The transformation reversed, the massive ape shrinking back down into the form of a young warrior who was breathing heavily and covered in sweat.
"Lord Boros," Nappa gasped, dropping to one knee. "I... I apologize. I lost control. I should not have transformed without permission."
Marcus considered the kneeling Saiyan for a moment. In the original timeline, Nappa had been arrogant and cruel, a bully who delighted in tormenting those weaker than himself. But this younger Nappa was different, not yet hardened by years of conquest and violence, still capable of humility in the face of superior power.
"You did well," Marcus said, surprising himself with the words. "Your instinct to use every weapon at your disposal is correct. A true warrior holds nothing back in battle."
Nappa looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "My lord?"
"However," Marcus continued, "you must learn to control your transformations better. The Great Ape form is powerful, but it is useless if you cannot think clearly while using it. Train until you have perfect mastery over your transformed state."
"Yes, my lord!" Nappa said, and there was a new light in his eyes, a determination that had not been there before. "I will train every day until I have achieved what you command!"
Marcus nodded and turned to leave the training facility, feeling strangely satisfied despite the underwhelming nature of the sparring match. He had not found a worthy opponent—he had not expected to—but he had learned something important about his new body and its capabilities.
He was FAST. Faster than he had imagined, faster than anything he had seen in Dragon Ball up to this point in the timeline. Nappa, even in his Great Ape form, had been unable to even come close to matching his speed.
He was STRONG. He had stopped a Great Ape's punch with one hand without any effort at all, which meant his strength was on a level that most beings in this universe could not even comprehend.
And he was BORED.
That was the real problem, Marcus realized as he walked through the corridors of his ship. He was so far above everyone else that fighting them was not even fun. It was like playing a video game with all the cheats enabled—sure, you could beat everything easily, but where was the challenge in that?
He needed a real opponent.
He needed someone who could actually push him, who could force him to use more than a fraction of his power, who could make him feel the thrill of genuine combat instead of this pale imitation.
But who in this universe could possibly challenge Lord Boros?
The answer came to him as he rounded a corner and nearly collided with a Saiyan warrior who was running in the opposite direction.
"Lord Boros!" the Saiyan gasped, skidding to a halt and immediately dropping to one knee. "Forgive me! I was sent to find you urgently!"
Marcus looked at the Saiyan and felt a jolt of recognition. This warrior was older than Nappa, with wild black hair that swept to the side and a scar across his left cheek. He wore the standard armor of a low-class warrior, and there was something in his eyes that Marcus found oddly familiar.
"Bardock," Marcus said, the name coming to him from his memories. "What is the matter?"
Bardock—and it WAS Bardock, the father of Goku, the Saiyan who would one day be sent back in time and become the original Super Saiyan of legend—kept his head bowed as he spoke. "My lord, two beings have appeared on Planet Vegeta. They arrived without warning and without ships. They are... they are asking for you."
Marcus felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Two beings who could travel without ships, who appeared without warning, who were asking for Lord Boros specifically.
There were not many beings in the Dragon Ball universe who fit that description.
"Describe them," Marcus ordered, and his voice came out harder than he intended.
"One is tall and thin, with purple skin and white hair," Bardock said. "He carries a staff and speaks in a polite manner. The other is... is a cat, my lord. A purple cat who walks on two legs and who..."
Bardock trailed off, and Marcus could see the fear in his eyes.
"Who what?" Marcus prompted.
"Who destroyed a mountain with a sneeze," Bardock finished. "The planet's defense forces attempted to intercept them, and the cat... the cat just waved his hand, and two thousand warriors were erased from existence. King Vegeta has barricaded himself in the palace and is refusing to come out."
Marcus stood very still for a long moment, processing this information.
Beerus and Whis.
The God of Destruction and his angelic attendant.
Two of the most powerful beings in the entire Dragon Ball multiverse, beings who made even the mightiest mortals look like insects by comparison.
And they were on Planet Vegeta.
Asking for HIM.
"What do they want?" Marcus asked, and he was proud of how steady his voice remained despite the cold terror that was gripping his hearts—plural, because apparently Boros had more than one heart, which was just another thing to add to the list of weird things about his new body.
Bardock looked up, and his expression was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "They said... they said they are looking for the softest pillow in the universe. And they heard that you might know where to find it."
Marcus stared at Bardock.
Bardock stared back at Marcus.
Neither of them said anything for several seconds.
"The softest pillow," Marcus repeated slowly. "In the universe."
"Yes, my lord."
Marcus thought about this for a moment. He thought about the God of Destruction, who could erase galaxies with a thought. He thought about his Angel attendant, who was even more powerful and who could reverse time itself. He thought about the fact that these two beings had come to find him specifically, had sought out the Dominator of the Universe, had made the journey across the cosmos...
To ask about a pillow.
Something in Marcus's brain decided that this was the moment to simply give up on making sense of things.
"Take me to them," he said.
The journey to Planet Vegeta took approximately thirty minutes, which Marcus spent in a state of mild existential panic that he hid behind a mask of calm indifference.
Beerus and Whis.
Of all the beings who could have shown up, it had to be BEERUS AND WHIS.
In the original Dragon Ball timeline, Beerus was the God of Destruction for Universe 7, a being of unimaginable power whose job was to destroy planets and civilizations to maintain the cosmic balance. He was capricious and petty and incredibly dangerous, prone to destroying entire worlds over minor slights or because he did not like the food.
He was also, Marcus recalled from his extensive Dragon Ball knowledge, obsessed with finding good food and comfortable places to sleep. The cat-like god spent most of his time napping, sometimes for decades at a stretch, and was notoriously grumpy when he was woken up or when his sleep was disturbed.
The pillow thing was starting to make sense.
Sort of.
Whis, on the other hand, was Beerus's attendant and martial arts teacher, an Angel who served the God of Destruction and helped him carry out his duties. He was even more powerful than Beerus—a fact that few people in the universe knew—and he was generally more pleasant and reasonable than his master.
He was also, Marcus knew, one of the few beings in all of Dragon Ball who could effortlessly defeat Beerus if he ever truly stepped out of line.
These were the beings that Marcus was about to meet.
These were the beings he was going to have to convince not to destroy him, his empire, and possibly the entire sector of the galaxy.
Over a pillow.
Marcus found himself wondering if death by heart attack had been the better option after all.
Planet Vegeta looked much as Marcus remembered it from the anime—a reddish-brown world with harsh landscapes and a perpetually overcast sky. It was not a beautiful planet by most standards, but it was home to the Saiyan race, and they had adapted to its harsh conditions over countless generations.
The ship landed at the royal palace, which was currently surrounded by Saiyan warriors who were trying very hard to look like they were not terrified out of their minds. Marcus could see the fear in their eyes, the way they flinched at every noise, the way their hands trembled as they gripped their weapons.
He could not blame them.
He had felt the power levels of the new arrivals as soon as the ship entered the planet's atmosphere.
Beerus's power was... indescribable. It was like standing next to a sun, if the sun was also somehow angry and liable to explode at any moment. It dwarfed everything Marcus had sensed so far, dwarfed the power of the Saiyans, dwarfed even his own considerable strength.
It was the power of a god.
And Marcus was about to walk right up to it and have a conversation about bedding.
The throne room of the Saiyan royal palace had been cleared of all furnishings except for a single large chair that had been hastily brought in from somewhere. King Vegeta was nowhere to be seen—probably hiding in a bunker somewhere, Marcus thought—and the only occupants of the room were the two beings who had caused all this commotion.
Beerus was exactly as Marcus remembered him from the anime. He was a tall, thin humanoid with purple skin and the features of a cat, including pointed ears and a long tail. He was currently lounging in the chair that had been provided, looking extremely bored and mildly irritated.
Whis stood beside him, a tall figure with pale blue skin and white hair styled in a distinctive pompadour. He held his signature staff in one hand and wore a pleasant smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
Both of them turned to look at Marcus as he entered the throne room.
"Ah," Whis said, his voice as polite and melodious as Marcus remembered. "You must be Lord Boros. We've heard quite a bit about you."
Marcus stopped in the center of the room, about twenty feet from where Beerus was sitting. He could feel the god's power pressing against him like a physical weight, could sense the vast gulf between them despite his own considerable strength.
It was humbling.
It was terrifying.
It was also, Marcus decided, absolutely ridiculous.
"Lord Beerus," Marcus said, inclining his head slightly. "Lord Whis. To what do I owe this... unexpected visit?"
Beerus yawned, showing off a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Straight to the point. I like that. Most mortals waste my time with groveling and begging. It's very annoying."
"I apologize for the inconvenience of not groveling," Marcus said dryly, and he was surprised to hear a chuckle from Whis.
"Oh, I like this one," the Angel said. "He has spirit."
Beerus waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, very impressive. Now, about the pillow."
Marcus waited.
Beerus stared at him.
The silence stretched on.
"Well?" Beerus demanded. "Aren't you going to ask what pillow I'm talking about?"
"I assumed you would tell me when you were ready," Marcus said. "I would not presume to rush a God of Destruction."
Another chuckle from Whis, and even Beerus looked slightly amused. "Hmm. You're smarter than you look. Very well. I have heard rumors that somewhere in your empire, there exists a pillow of unparalleled softness. A pillow so comfortable that sleeping on it is like floating on a cloud made of dreams. I want this pillow."
Marcus processed this information.
A pillow.
The God of Destruction had come all this way.
For a pillow.
"I see," Marcus said slowly. "And you believe that I would know where to find this... legendary pillow?"
"You are the Dominator of the Universe, are you not?" Beerus asked. "You have conquered countless worlds and claimed their treasures. If such a pillow exists, it would surely be among your possessions."
This was, Marcus had to admit, a reasonable assumption. The Dark Matter Thieves had indeed plundered countless civilizations over the centuries, and Boros's personal collection of treasures was vast beyond measure. It was entirely possible that somewhere among all those stolen goods, there was a pillow of exceptional quality.
The problem was that Marcus had no idea if such a pillow actually existed.
He had been Lord Boros for less than four days. He had not exactly had time to catalog the contents of his treasure vaults.
"I... may have such an item," Marcus said carefully. "However, my collection is extensive. It would take time to locate the specific artifact you seek."
Beerus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How much time?"
This was the moment of truth. Marcus could feel the god's power building, could sense the destructive energy that lurked just beneath the surface. One wrong word, one perceived slight, and Beerus could destroy him, his ship, Planet Vegeta, and possibly the entire star system without breaking a sweat.
Marcus made a decision.
"I will find it," he said. "However, I have a condition."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees. Beerus's eyes went wide, and even Whis looked surprised.
"A condition?" Beerus repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "You dare to impose conditions on ME?"
"I dare to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement," Marcus corrected, keeping his voice steady despite the terror that was screaming in the back of his mind. "I will find your pillow. In exchange, you will not destroy any of my territory or my subjects while I search."
Beerus stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Then he burst out laughing.
"HAHAHAHA! Oh, that's rich! A mortal, trying to negotiate with a god!" Beerus slapped his knee, his tail swishing behind him in amusement. "I could destroy you right now, you know. I could wipe you from existence with a flick of my finger."
"You could," Marcus agreed. "But then you would never get your pillow."
The laughter stopped.
Beerus looked at Marcus with new interest, his cat-like eyes studying the alien conqueror with an intensity that made Marcus want to crawl out of his skin.
"You know," Beerus said slowly, "I think I like you. You've got guts, I'll give you that. Most mortals would be on their knees begging for mercy by now."
"I am not most mortals," Marcus said, and he was gratified to see a flicker of approval in Beerus's eyes.
"No," the God of Destruction agreed. "No, you're not." He stood up from the chair, stretching like a cat waking from a nap. "Very well. I'll give you... one month. Find me the softest pillow in the universe within one month, and I won't destroy anything. Fail, and..." He let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but perfectly clear.
"I understand," Marcus said. "One month."
Beerus nodded and turned to Whis. "Come on. I'm hungry. Let's see if this planet has any decent food."
"Of course, Lord Beerus," Whis said, and he gave Marcus a small nod as he passed. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Boros. I look forward to seeing what you find."
And just like that, they were gone.
Marcus stood alone in the throne room of the Saiyan palace, staring at the spot where two of the most powerful beings in the universe had just been standing.
A pillow.
He had one month to find the softest pillow in the universe or face the wrath of a God of Destruction.
This was, without a doubt, the most ridiculous situation he had ever found himself in.
And that was saying something, considering he had been reincarnated as an alien warlord in a shonen anime.
Marcus took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and made a decision.
He was going to ignore this problem.
Not permanently, of course. He would eventually have to find the stupid pillow or face the consequences. But right now, at this exact moment, he simply did not have the mental energy to deal with the cosmic absurdity of his situation.
He had more pressing concerns.
Like the fact that he was standing in the throne room of King Vegeta's palace, and the king himself was probably hiding somewhere in the building, and Marcus had just had a conversation with the God of Destruction that the Saiyans had witnessed from a safe distance.
His reputation was going to be very interesting after this.
Marcus turned and walked out of the throne room, ignoring the stares of the Saiyan guards who were still frozen in place along the walls. He made his way back to the landing pad where his ship was waiting, and as he walked, he found his thoughts drifting to the future.
Goku would be born in about fifteen years, give or take.
The Saiyan Saga would happen about thirty-five years after that.
The Cell Saga, the Buu Saga, the events of Super—all of it was still far in the future, waiting to unfold.
And Marcus—Lord Boros—was right in the middle of it all.
He had the power to change everything. He could prevent the destruction of Planet Vegeta, if it was even going to happen in this timeline. He could train the Saiyans to become stronger, to reach their full potential. He could seek out the Dragon Balls and wish for... well, anything, really.
The possibilities were endless.
But first, he had to find a really comfortable pillow.
Because apparently that was his life now.
Marcus climbed aboard his ship and settled into his throne, staring out at the stars as the vessel lifted off from Planet Vegeta.
"My lord," Nappa said, appearing at his side with a look of barely contained awe. "What happened down there? The guards said you spoke with the God of Destruction himself! They said you made him laugh!"
Marcus considered how to respond.
"We discussed pillows," he said finally.
Nappa blinked. "Pillows, my lord?"
"Pillows," Marcus confirmed. "Now, I want you to send a message to all of my commanders. I need a full inventory of every treasure vault in the empire. We are looking for something specific."
"What are we looking for, my lord?"
Marcus sighed, a sound that carried the weight of existential exhaustion.
"The softest pillow in the universe."
Nappa stared at him for a long moment, clearly trying to determine if this was some kind of test or joke.
"Yes, my lord," he said finally. "I will send the message immediately."
As Nappa hurried off to carry out his orders, Marcus allowed himself a small smile.
Being Lord Boros was turning out to be much more complicated than he had expected.
But at least it was never boring.