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The wagon rocked as it wheeled over the stone roads. Threll balanced his gold on the bottom of an inverted bucket. His horned head bumped against the canvas, but he never lost count, a good merchant never did. Every member had paid their dues this month, that made distribution a lot easier.

The carving sound of wheel on stone came to an abrupt halt. Threll’s ears raised. It wasn’t just his wagon, the whole road had gone silent. Nothing cost more than a stopped caravan.

A green face peeked in through the front flap. “Mr. Threll, there’s a checkpoint ahead.”

“Imperial?”

Dek, the goblin driver shrugged.

Threll grumbled and crawled his way out of the wagon and into the daylight. He walked to the edge of the road and looked back. Wildflowers dotted the sides of the road, and trees lent their shade to a few lucky wagons. No smoke, no shouting, the caravan looked to be in good condition. He swung his head around, the small stone-brick bridge told Threll they were only a couple miles from Oneres. So close to the end.

Dek hopped to the ground and jogged over, “What do you wanna do?”

Blue smoke curled and danced in the air ahead. Imperial “ They’ve already seen us. There’s nothing to do but roll through it. Get the message down the caravan. All contraband must be hidden or disposed of.”

Dek nodded and scampered back road to the next caravan. Threll climbed onto the driver’s thin wooden perch and took the reins. His brown and grey horses shook theirs heads comfortably, unaware of the threat. When the imperials were involved, someone was always carted off in chains.

Threll whipped the reins, and the cart jerked forward onto the bridge. The wheels slipped and slid between the rocks, but the cart kept moving. The blue torch of the imperials was waiting on the other side. Threll tapped his pockets, nervous he had somehow pocketed something illegal. There was enough coin to get him and the first few wagons through, but most folks would have to pay their own bribes.

As Threll drew closer, he spotted a guard standing near the blue flame. Thin and pale white, too pale.. Threll sat up taller, that wasn’t just an imperial guard. Its eyes were hollow, and its armor hung loose over visible bone and ligament. A necro-soldier.

The horses kept a steady pace, carrying Threll and his wagon past the soldier and into the checkpoint. Hundreds of grey-black tents extended off in every direction, dozens of necro-soldiers tracked Threll’s moves with their hollow eyes and boney smiles. At the very least, there was a general leading this army. At the worst—

A necro-soldier met Threll on the road, and his horses came to a stop.

“What can I do for you?” Threll put on a smile. The guard gave no answer, they never did. Instead, the skeleton-thing pointed towards the ground. Threll lowered himself from the wagon. As he did, rapid footsteps approached, Dek’s voice rang out through the encampment. “Mr. Threll. Mr. Threll. I think I sppotted him, The Dark Wizard. He’s here”

Threll clenched his jaw, then turned and put a hand on the goblin’s shoulder, “We’ve talked about this, Dek. You need to watch your tongue. The man’s title isn’t Dark Wizard, it’s King. And we owe him the utmost respect. At least while we’re here.” Dek cast a nervous glance towards the nearest necro-soldier, it’s jaw hung slightly open, but the thing gave no sign of offence.

“Sorry Mr. Threll. Want me to go get the thing?”

Threll turned to the necro-soldiers, they pointed him up a hill to a large, grey-black tent with gold lining. “Yeah. I think I’ll need it.”

Dek lifted himself onto the wagon and slipped through the flap. Threll started his walked to the tent at the top of the hill. On the whole journey, he didn’t spoke a single non-necro soldier. This was gonna be a long day. Two, spear-wielding skeletons stopped Threll at the entrance to The King’s tent.

“Enter, Threll.” At the sound of The Dark Wizard’s sharp voice, the guards stepped asign and pulled open the tent.

Threll walked at an even pace. Six generals sat at tables lining the sides of the tent, drinking and eating and watching Threll with hawkish eyes. Every word in here would count. Threll kept his focus on the bald man in brown robes standing at a little table on the far-side of the tent.

“You have made quite a bit of trouble for me Threll.”

Threll gave a deep bow, “Im sorry to hear that, we’re just trying to get by out here. What can I do to make things right?”

A tough, woman’s voice shouted to Threll’s right, “Your merchants have been selling artifacts.”

Threll raised his hands defensively, “So long as they pay me my share, they’re free to sell anything they’d like. I try not to get in the way of other people’s business.”

The King tapped his table with a dark-blue finger. His brow furrowed a moment in consideration, “There’s a young woman out there. She’s fighting our soldiers, eliminating imperial positions. Some of the more rural villagers have taken to calling her hero. Her equipment came from your people.”

So word had finally gotten back to the big man. Threll raised his arms with indignation, “New crazies pop up all the time, I can’t track all of them. But the idea that your citizens are cheering for your defeat? What a disgrace. You deserve better than that.”

“You need to watch your people closer.” The harsh voice came from a blonde-haired general in the corner. When she finished speaking, she took a long swig from an iron cup. Threll pivoted slightly towards the general, he’d never get out of this if he was on the defensive all night.

“All I do is make sure the wagons get to their towns safely. There’s still too many bandits out there  there to go anywhere alone.”

The general slammed her cup down and rose as she spoke, “Are you insinuating I’m not doing my job?”

Tap. Tap. The general stopped in her tracks. At the end of the room, The King’s blue-black finger was again tapping the table, but each tap seemed to freeze the air in place, like a silent boom.

“Clear the room. Please. I’d like to speak with Threll alone.”

The general gave Threll a final deadly glare, then picked up her mug and stormed out. Five more followed shortly after. In the chaos, Threll felt a tugging on his cloak. He glanced down, only to see Dek’s wide eyes looking back up at him.

“Did you get the thing?”

Dek pressed a small, grey box into Threll’s hand. The moment it was out of the goblin’s possession, he sprinted out of the tent. When the flaps of the tent closed, only Threll and The Dark Wizard remained. The Wizard raised his hand and beckoned Threll closer. Threll took short, nervous steps as he approached the Wizard and his small table. Had he somehow given away his secret assistance to The Hero? All he had done was redirect a few artifacts towards the girl’s province. She had been doing plenty well accumulating power on her own.

“Put out your hands.”

Threll pocketed the box and extended his shaking arms. The Dark King muttered a gutteral, rhythmic spell under his breath. Darkness and shadow coalesced in the air above Threll’s hands. A hundred terrible fates ran through his head, there was a good reason none risked a direct confrontation against The King. Soon the blackness took form, and a silver chalice fell into Threll’s palm. He gave The King an uncertain look. The King raised a bottle of wine from under his table, and poured a fair share into Threll’s chalice, then his own. 

“I can’t risk drinking around the generals. Would you mind humoring me?”

Threll exhaled sharply, “You had me going there! I’d be honored.” The pair each took a sip, then Threll reached into his pocket. “I got something for you.”

The King’s eyebrow raised, “For me? Really?”

Threll handed over the box. The King eagerly pulled it apart, then raised the copper necklace up in front of his face. “An artifact?”

Threll nodded. Without hesitation, The King draped the necklace around himself. Threll’s eyes went wide at The King’s bold act. He had assumed a wizard would be wise enough to check for curses. Too bad. If his luck lined up again, maybe he wouldn’t need The Hero after all.

A guffaw pulled Threll from his thoughts. The King was doubled over and cackling like a hyena, “I never would have guessed! What a novelty! Quick, call in one of the guards.”

Threll hurried outside and waved in one of the necro-soldiers. From The King’s excited giggles, he could tell this gift was a winner. “Incredible! I can’t tell the difference.Two sets of reanimated bones.” It had cost more than a handful of gold, but the no-flesh vision artifact had been worth the commission. After another few minutes of laughter, The King dismissed his soldier and went for another glass of wine. Threll readied himself, this was the time deals were made.

“King, about the artifacts.”

The Dark Wizard waved him off, “I know, I know. You can’t police your tradesman or they’ll just find someone else.”

Threll took a miniscule sip from his chalice, “And they sure don’t like going through your checkpoints.”

A moment passed in silence, The Wizard’s smile sank into into misery. “Why can’t they respect. It doesn’t make sense, Threll. I’m the king, yet this rebel warrior girl is somehow the people’s champion.”

“A lot of people liked the last guy.”

The King sneered, “He was a stupid boy on course to bankrupt the kingdom. I had to do something.”

Threll flinched. He had always been fond of the teenage king, “I get it man, I do. But turning him to stone? That’s scary stuff. Dark magic stuff. Some people even thing he’s still alive under all the granite.”

“No, no, no. Not unless a skilled sorcerer de-petrified him.”

Threll made a mental note, but gave no raction. Already this meeting had proved profitable. He looked again at the King, at the sad sorrowful face rejected by his people. For all his flaws, The King did seem to be trying his best. After a moment’s consideration, Threll spoke, “Image counts for a lot in leadership. When people see you, they see a Wizard that petrified the true king. What about that girl? The hero. The first thing she did was slay a dragon, right? Maybe you should do something like that.”

The King put his head in his hands, “I have deals with the dragons. To kill one would be to sever one of my lines to the dark magics—” Threll’s eyes went wide and he quickly raised a chalice to his mouth. “But I see what you mean, I need to start rebuilding. Show people the kingdom how good I can be.”

“Good start.” Hey, maybe if they were lucky, The King would change course, and Threll wouldn’t have to fund this ‘Hero’ at all.

“Yes— yes— I could pave the roads with black stone, put a necro-soldier on every street corner, weave walls of flame across our kingdom’s borders. Create a sense of safety.”

Or maybe The King’s instincts were worse than Threll could have imagined. The King put down his chalice and stared out at nothing, deep in thought. Threll didn’t dare interrupt, or correct The King’s ideas. After a moment, The King looked at Threll with wide eyes and an excited smile. “Thank you Threll. Your advise, always, is impeccable.”

Threll nodded, then gave an uncertain pat to The King’s shoulder. After a moment, his thoughts turned to the caravan outside, “Hey, I’ve lost a lot of daylight here. Any chance we can get going before nightfall?”

The King agreed and Threll hurried outside. Necro-soldiers had lined up all along the caravan, but it didn’t look like anyone had been searched.. A couple minutes later, Threll was back in his wagon, rolling past the last of the blue flame torches. Half a day and they’d be in Oneres.

Dek stuck his head into the wagon, “So what are we sending The Hero this month?”

Threll leaned back against the canvas of the wagon. The King was more naive than he was despicable. His generals were fools, and his soldiers were brainless. It was no wonder the people hated him. “Dragonslayer’s equipment.” Threll rubbed his chin, it seemed a shame to attack The King’s power center right when he wanted to do something good, “Just the spear this month. We’ll get her the rest on our way back around.”