Chapter 2 - The Master’s Personal Assistant

Skwee scurried through the dark tunnels of The Master’s lair, sweat dripping from his brow. The walls were thick with soot and claw marks, carved out by a domesticated demon. Screams echoed in the distance, followed by dull groans. One of the latest prisoners would be cooperating soon.

Skwee nimbly leapt over a poison barb trap, being sure not to trigger the tripwire or spill the tea tray, then turned a corner. The Master wouldn’t like the news he had for him. Then again, he never seemed to like any news he brought.

Skwee had only been The Master’s Personal Assistant for a few weeks, and it had already been the most stressful time of his life. At least the position was one minions rarely kept for long. Or so he’d heard.

He’d been promoted late one night, curled up in his comfy nest, deep down in the warrens with the other goblins. A senior officer had booted him in the side, grunting, ‘You’ve been promoted, Survivor.’ And that was that. Being the sole survivor of The Glogville Caves massacre had somehow attracted some attention. What his superiors didn’t realise is that he only managed to avoid the massacre by hiding under a table. Then there’d been a job opening as a result of his predecessor not making the tea right.

Skwee tried to find his predecessor to ask for some advice. Such as, what were The Master’s favourite biscuits? That sort of thing. But there had been some kind of violent accident in which his predecessor had tripped and fallen backwards onto a dagger several times.

As stressful as it was, being such a high ranking goblin had its perks. They gave him an extra soft pillow and he was allowed to eat scraps directly from The Master’s table. That was premium grub. Skwee licked his lips. Maybe there’d be some roasted pheasant bones he could nibble on.

Skwee’s heart pounded as he arrived outside The Master’s chamber. Before him stood a tall, dark door, with hundreds of expensive-looking human skulls carved into it. Each painted pink.

The pink skull symbol was introduced a few years ago as part of what The Master called a ‘rebranding exercise’. Apparently inventing the logo had cost a small fortune. Skwee thought he could have come up with something much better. Like a nice traditional white or black skull. But pink was supposed to give better brand awareness as The Master said it “popped”. Now he had to spend his days in a tight pink tunic, which he thought made him look rather silly.

Skwee’s green hands shook, clattering the tea tray as he rapped against the obsidian panelling.

‘Enter,’ came a booming voice.

Skwee turned the handle shaped like a severed demon’s fist and strained to push open the door.

Stolen novel; please report.

The Master sat behind his desk at the end of the high-ceilinged chamber, a fire crackling beside him. He wore a smart tunic covered by a cloak, all black with the exception of his signature pink skull logo shining out from a pin on his breast. The Master always looked regal, which was unusual for a human. Goblin guards lined the walls, standing like statues. Skwee didn’t envy them. He knew how hard it was to keep still during guard duty, you couldn’t even scratch your nose. The Master looked up, drumming his fingers against the lacquered wood. ‘Well, what is it?’ he said, wearily.

Skwee put down the tray on a side table and held up his notes, squinting at them in the light. He cleared his throat. ‘Someone has managed to kill The Demi Lich Kalakzar, my lord. Our sensor runes have indicated that...’

The Master waved a dismissive hand. ‘Impossible. My mages have assured me demi-liches are undefeatable. Kalakzar should have regenerated as soon as they left the raided crypt.’ The Master cackled and twiddled his goatee. ‘Those foolish adventurers keep coming back, resurrection after resurrection. They never learn. We’re making a fortune from resurrection stones alone.’

Skwee wiped the sweat from his palms onto his pink tunic. ‘It was a man called Eric Featherwick. A pest control agent at Beast Be Gone in Porkhaven. He used a Dispel Undead Scroll...’

‘Pest control? I thought we’d run them all out of business?’

‘Most of them my lord. Apparently he’s one of the last ones. Him and Glorp & Co. Both are in pretty desperate financial situations. We purchased their debts a few years ago.’

The Master’s lips twisted. ‘Our swarms of adventurers will have been making it hard for them to find work. Still, to be on the safe side, we should put an end to their interfering. They must be living off the substantial loan from us. Alert our Doom Bank division and send in the bailiffs. Let’s apply some pressure. They need to be made an example of.’

‘At once my lord.’

‘And let’s get more adventurers out adventuring. I want all teenage boys and girls living near any pest control businesses orphaned. They’ll be adventuring in under a week, freed from the tyranny of The King. Then train up more mysterious old folk to give them plenty of quests. I don’t want this Eric having another contract ever again. Bankrupt him by the end of the month. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Perfectly, my lord.’

‘Oh and make sure all the other liches get resistant to these vulnerabilities. A simple weakness like that is laughable.’ The Master frowned. ‘In fact, I want all our minions inspected for weaknesses.’

‘I’m not sure that’s possi…’

‘Get it done.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Excellent. Did you bring my tea?’

Skwee held up the tray. ‘Yes my lord, as requested.’

His Master’s eyes narrowed at him. ‘And where are the biscuits?’

Skwee’s heart stopped. ‘Oh… no my lord. My apologies, it… it… must have slipped my mind.’

The Master stood up, face blazing red. A glowing wind whipped around him, lifting up his cloak. He pointed a finger at Skwee and said in a deep, hollow voice, ‘You have failed me for the last time, worthless wretch!’

A jolt of pain hit Skwee in the chest. The air rushed from his lungs. Choking, he fell to the floor, trying to draw breath.

Faintly he heard The Master speak. It was distant, as if he were in another room. ‘You, step forward.’

Skwee closed his eyes as he convulsed on the ground.

‘Me… my lord?’ said one of the nearby goblin guards, his voice wavering.

‘Yes, you. Congratulations. You’ve just been promoted.’