The Varieties of Maids

1. Clumsy
2. Hyper-competent
3. Gossipy
4. Found the body
5. Loyal
6. Saucy
7. Tyrannical
8. Naive
9. Not actually a maid
10. Flirty
11. Intelligent talking animal
12. Gambling tipster
13. Assassin
14. Unscrupulous
15. Wise in herbal remedies
16. Believes in ghosts
17. Mad scientist
18. Artificial
19. High-level
20. Engaged

Now get out your randomization method of choice. But wait! The discerning reader has already noticed most of these are mutually compatible, while the especially discerning knows all of them are, the first two most of all. Therefore randomize yourself how many traits to assign. I recommend no more than three, duplicates allowed.

The Meaning of Boundaries

Two landowners, Etgald and Lodfin, finally settled where to place the fence. They promptly cooperated to see it done.
"This will resolve all disputes," Etgald said as he admired it. "What's on this side is mine."
"And my parcel is over here," Lodfin said, tapping his fingers on his arm. "But."
"But?"
"The fence."
"Yeah?"
"Whose is that?"
"Why, I suppose I don't have an answer for that just at this particular moment."
That was the beginning of Etgald and Lodfin's grand adventure to learn the meaning of the space between. Not only did they revolutionize geometry and contribute to mathematics, they also defeated the terrible Hidden Tyrant. When they got back home, they were both heroes and fully tolerant of each other's company. They kept the fence, though.
Finis

The Extensive Limits of Mockery

The rebels smashed down the door, and their leader urged them forward. "Today, brothers, is the last we are deprived of our liberty! What can the tyrant do to us now?"
"Only this," the tyrant himself said. He strode toward the rebels, awe-inspiring in his cavalier attitude. He stopped but a foot from the leader and spoke. "Liberty shmiberty."
The rebels were amazed, struck dumb by his eloquence. "Retreat!" was all their leader managed to shout and all his followers could do.
As the tyrant turned to look for someone he could order to get a new door, a crowd came to it. "Master, a petition!" The man who presented it on behalf of every merchant in the country bowed in a servile enough fashion, but his hands were steady.
"You think your taxes are too high, eh? Taxes, shmaxes."
"I suppose you're right, master." The merchants withdrew, abashed.
The tyrant turned again, only to be halted again by the shouts of angry teens. Groaning, he gave them a minute of his time.
An athletic youth walked forward with a pugnacious look. "Hey man, what's the deal with banning our shindigs? There's nothing political about them, honest."
"Shindig . . . shindig . . . Argh!"
Thus did callow teenagers take over the government.
Finis

The Tyrant's Latest Raiment

Once, two magical tailors offered to make the dread tyrant Nikatok a suit of clothes never seen before which possessed the marvelous property that only the intelligent could discern the fine weaves. Though skeptical, the tyrant gave them a chance, funds, and severe warnings.
The tailors wove and enchanted. At last they presented the clothes to the tyrant, who went into the city to test them. "You there, citizen. What do you think of my clothes?"
"Sir," the accosted man said, "it's your prerogative to walk naked if you wish of course! You're looking quite chiseled, too!"
The other common citizens said similar things. The tyrant then sought out the wise. "You there, geometrician. What do you think of my clothes?"
The man tugged his beard in dismay. "I have heard only the intelligent can see them. Today I learned I am not truly intelligent. I must redo my calculations!"
The other esteemed citizens said similar things. Well pleased, Nikatok paid the tailors far more than they had asked and praised them as the only worthy minds in the city aside from him.
Before the tailors set out, they sought out the geometrician. "Can you really not see the clothes?" they asked, puzzled and worried.
The man smiled and avoided the question.
Finis

Addendum

A blond human who is actually a dragon carries a golem hammer through the portal. What lies on the other side? A tyrant who's actually a transformed black hole, of course, but the point is, hammers are only a good weapon for a hero if they're really big, and I mean ultra huge.

The Internal Ocean

No one went to an Otthe Evanfor demonstration with any prediction as to the subject or results, not after one or two experiences. The gallery spectators settled themselves and waited for the latest thing.
"The latest thing! This is it! I have invented a fish." Otthe Evanfor moved among the blackboards and jars of the experiment theater, pointing, waving, and poking. "A special fish that swims in a special ocean: the ocean of memory. That's right."
The audience thought perhaps he wanted it to gasp, and it obliged him. After all the entertainment he had provided, how could it desert him then?
"Yes, it swims in human memories, and for its food? Especially tasty memories. The kind you can't stop remembering. Look!" He pointed at the only other person who had been allowed in the theater proper. "The first subject! Tell us your experiences! Are you remembering anything right now?"
"Well, matter of fact, right now what's coming to mind is a time when, you know, we were all enjoying ourselves . . ." The nervous man turned red, but he was being paid. "I enjoyed myself a lot, and when I went back to my room to, uh, well, I did feel like there was an ocean in me, but not in the memory part."
The audience laughed, but the presenter glowed. "Yes? And then?"
"And then I realized I wasn't in my room. I was in somebody else's house. What a day. They asked me to leave, but I needed to do something before I did."
More laughter. "And you still have this memory? Not for long, I think."
"Sure I do. Only now I remember a fish in the toilet, which I don't think is what happened."
So much entertainment.

The entertainment turned into something else when the dictator heard about the invention and arranged to have fish trail likenesses of himself behind them into every citizen's memory, but such is the delayed price of amusement.
Finis

Public Duties

"If anyone seeks an exemption from public duties, make your request now," First Archon Oivers announced. One man covered in glowing golden armor and a shimmering cape woven from a material not known to any mortal artisan stood. "Citizen Aedren, you may speak."
"I don't want an exemption as such," Aedren began.
"Then your business will wait. Who else? No one?"
Only Aedren responded. "No one can request an exemption, because I've been assigned all of them. Every chorus, every ship, every road repair, all of them."
"Ah, that is true. I had not noticed. Well, you are very wealthy. Or do you dispute the wealth assessment?"
"No, I am rich now, but I want to say two things. First, there are still other rich people in the city, so this seems unfair. Second, I would say the way I got that wealth was in the nature of public service, so I deserve some consideration."
Archon Oivers was having none of it. "Oh? And what was this 'public service,' young man?"
"What was . . . I killed hundreds of monsters, slew Warlord Yurzax, destroyed the Annihilation Star, placated the spirit of Sorcerer Gemmat, and destroyed H'clider, the god of evil that turned out to be an ancient machine beyond the control of today's humans." In response to Archon Oivers's blank look he added, "I saved the world! More than once!"
"Well, I am sure you did fine work, but we are not concerned with all that today. We are discussing exemptions for the year's public duties."
And that was when the hero Aedren conquered the city and installed himself as tyrant, and I must say we have all been happier ever since.
Finis