The Dark Lord stood upon the ramparts of his newly acquired castle, a sense of pride filled him as he looked over the lands that he now considered to be his own. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shake with every gust of mountain wind striking the old walls. He placed his hands against the parapets and closed his eyes, feeling the wind blowing through his hair and lifting his cloak behind him. It would have been a peaceful moment if not for the ruckus the goblins were making at every hour of day and night.
Atop the walls, Zal’Rodal had a good view of the work his minions were doing. He could see the goblins marching into the deep forests surrounding the castle and coming back with lumber. Most of the goblins carried small blocks of wood on their shoulders, while the goblins with something between their ears had made rickety wheelbarrows and carriages to transport their goods. They required wood, not only for repairs but to withstand the winter without half of them perishing to the cold. Larger pieces of wood were used to repair both the gate and the hole that was currently making his walls rather worthless. The Dark Lord anxiously awaited the day in which minions would be able to work as masons without breaking most of their work in the process.
The goblins were hard at work, swinging their improvised axes and sawing logs in the courtyard to the rhythm of what they claimed to be music. The sound of working goblins was the only thing filling the castle grounds in the past days, the disparate tribes had split their work evenly amongst themselves without too many split skulls. The Blackhook tribe had particularly surprised him with their ingenuity, they had been put in charge of most of the transportation of logs and raw resources. He could see some of the goblins split smaller branches from the trees and placed them under the logs to be transported and simply rolled the logs up the hill. He was glad to know that not every goblin under his charge was completely inept.
The Steward and supervisor of all castle repairs, food gathering, and stopping of fights, was of course Guglak. The old goblin was no master organiser but that did not stop him from rushing back and forth between the different tribes and yelling at them to work harder, this method had surprisingly positive effects on efficiency. Perhaps it wasn’t the most optimal way to manage a workforce, but it worked well enough for Zal’Rodal. He had more important things to do than running around personally and getting into screaming matches with his minions. The Dark Lord had to dedicate his attention to more important matters, such as future raids, and the possible imminent attack by the mountain-dwelling creatures which his scouts claimed lived in the mountains facing the castle.
The creatures were one of the reasons he wanted the castle defences to be ready sooner rather than later. His scouts had not reported any outright hostile behaviour for the moment but he wasn’t willing to risk that changing. The reports claimed the creatures to have a furry exterior and a size not much larger than a goblin, they were sighted using tools made of stone or crude iron, all in all, they were not so different to the goblins in that aspect. Regardless if anyone wished to live in these parts they would have to accept the new Dark Lord’s authority. He couldn’t allow anyone to oppose his rule in his newly acquired lands.
Zal’Rodal had other things on his mind apart from the mountainous creatures. Some goblins working inside that castle had found the entrance to a dungeon or at least a staircase leading down into absolute darkness. Before he focused on possible external threats it was best to make sure that his own domain was secure. Zal’Rodal was realising once again that being a Dark Lord entailed more than only bringing death and darkness upon the land. Ruling mostly involved a mix of logistics, management, leadership, and “people” skills. If he expanded further he would have to appoint generals and powerful servants to do some of the heavy lifting of ruling individual territories, just as Dark Lords had done in the past. He couldn’t be expected to micromanage the world. He had left the managerial duties to Guglak, but he wasn’t quite what one would call a general of darkness, however, he did his job well enough for the moment.
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He left his post at the wall and brushed the dirt of his hands and sleeves. He took another satisfied glance at his goblins working hard on the various repairs before he made his way down into the courtyard. He moved down the stairs carefully as another slab of stone wobbled dangerously with every step. He made his way into the castle’s main hall passing various goblin pairs operating handsaws and singing. “Saw, saw, saw, rats for breakzfaz, rats for dinner, dlud after, happy life!” The goblins screeched as they worked. Zal’Rodal did not have to open a door as one of the double doors to the keep was simply missing. He immediately felt the temperature increase as he stepped inside. He was out of the brunt of the wind and could enjoy the warmth of the various fires burning in the hall.
The goblins greeted and saluted him with their screeches as he walked deeper into the hall. He grabbed a torch from one of the walls and made his way past the dais situated at the end of the hall. Usually, this part of the hall would be filled by a throne, or a dining table for the lord’s family looking over the entire hall. However, this dais was nothing more than a raised wooden platform. From the platform one could see the entirety of the hall, which was currently filled with piles of assorted treasure and various pots, stirring up what the goblins had scrounged up for dinner.
The entrance into the dungeon that the goblins had reported was situated behind the dais at the very far end of the hall. The goblins had moved a large slab of stone which left an opening in the ground leading directly to an old staircase headed deeper into the mountain. He took the first steps into the darkness with his torch held high illuminating the steps before him. The tunnel was in a much better state than the rest of the castle presumably because nothing had reached this place until now. The walls around him weren’t crumbling, the steps were solid and unmoving. The only thing that the staircase had in common with the castle was its complete abandonment.
Zal’Rodal continued his descent deeper into the mountain, when he looked back he could no longer see the lights from the main hall pouring into the staircase. Not much later he was faced with a large wooden door which blocked his path forwards. He took a moment to investigate the door and frame in search of traps and when he felt satisfied with the door's safety he pushed against it. The door immediately crumbled under his touch becoming nothing more than a bunch of mouldy planks on the floor and raising a large cloud of dust. Beyond the broken door, a large hall was revealed. It bore some similarities to the main hall above but was far grander. Great pillars lined the sides of the walls, three or four steps apart from one another, all leading the Dark Lord’s gaze directly at the stone throne in the centre of the hall. He took some steps towards the throne while taking in his surroundings. Old tattered banners from from each of the pillars, their sigils and colours unrecognisable as the passage of time forced them to fade. The floor was covered in dust and the fire pits emitted not even a sliver of warmth.
He seated himself on the stone throne, crossed his legs and placed his arms on the sides of the throne. He felt like a ruler now. Zal’Rodal imagined his underling in front of him awaiting his order. The hall, illuminated by large fires and torches, the old banners being replaced by his own. This was a place from which he could rule, although this was surely someone before him had thought, he wondered what had become of them. Emerging form his thoughts, he decided to continue his exploration. The larger this dungeon turned out to be, the larger the future seat of his power would be.