“Click,Click,click,click,click.”
A large room was filled to the brim with money and many money counting units all mixed and sorted around the big automatic crystal grading machine that occupied the majority of the space of the vault. The underground operation buried in the heart of the capital city far below the streets where leprechauns worked like ants carrying sacks to feed the noisy processing machine. Killin Hood surveyed the cavern with an eagle eyed stare from behind a sheet of clear defensive crystal. A Slyman guide bowed the green salute behind him.
“You are the man future king. The book calls your name, it knows all,” said the guide in a gravely tone, bowing.
The slyman dressed in traditional furs and knitted jacket switched it up to the orange salute for a second. He resumed slurping pork dumplings in gravy sauce from a wooden bowl with the formalities out of the way.
“Yes I've come to check the books,” said Killin Hood, adjusting his polka dotted tie,flicking a bug off his pinstripe suit, and ash from his cigar in the other hand.
“Gulp” said the plump Slyman eating the launched insect in his lunch.
"Yes sir, right this way and by the way the names Larry,” he said, extending a hand.
Killin Hood grabbed the funny boned fingers with a firm grip that constricted like a snake rapidly becoming more uncomfortable.
“Crunch!”
He snapped off Larry’s brittle little fingers like a lobster biting off the claws of another.
“Lets go chop, chop,” ordered Killin Hood, clapping his white gloved hands.
“Rude,” stammered Larry, while otherwise seemingly unaffected, finishing the strapping of a mining helmet with his remaining hand.
“Oh come on we both know your kind rapidly regrow,” said the man.
They continued further on without conversation. The long and tough Slyman beard draped the cavern floors, cleaning it for them to walk while his headlamp lit the spooky door knobs seldom turned in the dusty corridor.
Killin Hood walked behind, still not crowned. Less than 48 hours remained for that, and the many more surprises waiting in store. The honeymoon would be a zeppelin trip to the waterfall at the edge of the flat planet, and a smooching secession in the tropics. After that it would be time to rule.
Killin Company was about to revolutionize the kingdom of humanity and liberate the serfs from being unable to buy his things for sale. The first order of business was taking a count of the royal reserve bank. The second was taking out some loans, and using the resources offered by the kingdom's propaganda department to combine them with his company's most shameless advertising executives. In secret he would also be kicking off an explosive chain of events under the table. It was all leading to a wartime economy and many multiplying of profits in his namesake.
He had so many years of maniacal fantasies to accomplish with the power now held. So much conquering of the planet including the unexplored and the work required to form the armies of explorers required. And time was running out to hatch the evil schemes to extend his life before he became too old. Society needed a strongman to whip it forward leaping into an advanced age he would otherwise not see before he died. So his company would single underhandedly force the clock on crystal technology forward. A big part of that would be his spies working overtime within the ranks of the elves to steal their advanced technology secrets.
They entered a dim room except for the blue glow of something faintly magical. A winding torch lit path of rocks led past dripping waterworks. A cave of bats, echos, and a far drop into a black void in the circular cavern. A dead end buried deep within the maze-like walls of the underground banking system.
“Here the great book crunches expenses,” said the Slyman guide, saluting the table it sat upon with his hand already half regrown.
The book took up a family sized dinner table set with two chairs, and a third rotting in disrepair. Its pages are filled with many magical details written in red and black ink. A breeze interrupted blowing out of seemingly nowhere, and snuffing the candles that coated the whole operation in various layers of wax. The underside of the tables now also flashed alive in glow in the dark ink.
“Oh powerful book, how much profit is my kingdom set to net next quarter?” said Killin Hood.
A lighter light emerged glowing underneath table cloth basking the room in blood red.
“You are in deep debt. The Elves can liquidate you whenever they have enough forces mustered at their disposal,” announced the mysterious voice.
In a rage Killin Hood threw back the table cloth revealing an empty underside beneath.
“Drats” he raged, ripping off the white flowered stitched cloth.
He stood and held it for a second while he stroked his chin with the other hand. He was sinking into deep thoughts that only a genius like him could hope to decipher. In the background the Slyman dumped whatever remained of the hot bowl of soup down his gullet. Killin Hood blew his nose on the tablecloth.
“Hey you!”
His cold scolding voice dumped the last scalding hot drops of soup onto flesh and fleece.
“Yooow!” Larry screamed in surprise, knocking off his traditional fur hat on the low part of the ceiling.
“Hahaha now the guide will show me the vaults of crystal not in this book.. I know that someone knows the location of the royal vaults,” said Killin Hood, struggling to grab hold of Larry’s fat neck between his two strangling hands.
He was also unable to lift this target for extra intimidation like usual.
“Where is the Queen's secret vault of crystals hidden?” He growled, struggling to snap the Slyman’s neck.
“I don’t know, I don't know. Please I have a family,” wheezed Larry, struggling for every word.
“Shhh fool,” said Killin Hood, silencing the pleas by applying additional pressure in a sleeper hold.
The future King shifted into another wrestling position and then started swinging. The gray creature born in swamps and with clay like skin thrashed on the crystalized ground. Now Larry was taking a beating like a punching bag.
“Where is it?” demanded Killin Hood, pounding his face in.
“Ask the Queen I’m afraid only she knows the map to all of them,” croaked Larry, from somewhere in a very dented noggin.
Killin Hood further released his death grip and left the body limp.
“Ahh so there’s a map to the vault somewhere thanks, I bet my brainless wife won't remember where she put it of course,” he said, rubbing his hands together in the departing power walk.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Killin Hood adjusted his polka dots back in the cool hallway full of cobwebs. He took a turn in the dim torchlight towards the growing sound of the official inventory recounting. He was gonna pilfer the kingdom's official funds to himself exactly by the book. And it turns out wartime was the perfect time to give himself big military contracts so that was also happening.The kingdom would tank so much risk and his Killin company would assume virtually no responsibility for anything if it went sour.
He strode into the well lit room with the big crystal counter running loudly. The leprechauns worked the same clear crystal glass he stood on while others counted cash. They ignored his presence and continued their counting, while above big letters had hit an automatic count of 357,009,789 in roman numerals.
“Hello leprechauns,” said Killin Hood, grabbing hold of the shoulder of one who had wandered in too close.
The rest of the workers froze from their jobs.
“Things around here are going to change,” said the new bossman.
“Clink.”
“Go on son it’s all yours,” finished Killin Hood, sounding coins in the purse with the end of a clubbed baby seal skin boot.
The leprechaun at his feet cautiously opened the drawstrings revealing a bunch of gold coins..
“They are all yours buddy, in exchange for favors I'm about to seriously improve all your lives,” said Killin Hood, slapping the little back hard enough to do permanent damage.
It was at the end of the block, 3-o'clock the dead of night. The empire entered rumbling armored construction machines driven by knights tore up any gardens and lawns that crossed their paths. They woke up the dead the noise pollution was so high. They were driving besides the empty lot of the house previously demolished by the same forces. They have come to finish the job and the leg of a crushed gnome stuck out from the wheels of a backing backhoe. The bulldozers whipped up clouds of dust as they effortlessly plowed away with no debris slowing them. The demolition derby destroyed the residences, while many lawns and garages had caught fire. The highway traffic continued on in the background as usual undisturbed all throughout the nocturnal hour.
As planned the fire department waited behind the gate for the orders to put it out when there would be no homes to go back to. The operation continued while the nesting birds squawked with fierce abandon at being forced from their homes. The road rumbled being torn apart by the heavy machinery that could not be stopped. An excavator rolled on tracks while three more planted behind it and began to dig up trees and shrubs.
The first of three suns was only just lifting itself over the remaining shanty houses in leprechaun town. The buildings were rapidly becoming extinct as they bounced on flimsy foundations losing the last remaining shingles. A dislodged drain pipe dented the roof of a solitary garden shed sitting in the rubble, but avoiding trouble so far.
“Poof!”
A Farc portal ripped open inside the abandoned garden shed. Three figures tumbled out of a vortex landing on a wet bag of manicure that cushioned their fall. The dead were animated and they coughed. A boney hand reached out and pulled upwards the connected skeleton kitted in Elven plotting armor. Additionally two stitched together zombie leprechauns who wheezed like accordions left for an extended period in 100% humidity. They slapped each other fighting over unfastened parts of their stitched together and trousers that had come loose in the travels.
The tiny building rumbled, shaking items loose, and breaking apart clay pots with falling hoes.
“Oh I know where we are home,” barked Ratom, screwing back in an eyeball.
“Where's that again?” asked Mickey, hacking for breath after fitting in his set of teeth.
“Yeah where are we at anyhow? Asked Nancy, feeling her way off the piles of compost.
“Thwonk!”
She blindly stepped down onto a rake taking to the face. She slashed apart the wooden handle of the tool attached to her skull, and continued feeling forward. The little building they were trapped inside shook like it was going out of style, and the roof started squeaking and crying like a raccoon in heat. The whole thing bounced from the foundation and tumbled sideways knocking everything and anything under the roof loose, and smashing it together in a clumping mess like a washing machine in cycle. The garden shed surfed down a freshly dug trench, while rocks whizzed past and objects flew out.
“Smash,bang,crash,” it was lights out for the party.
Sometime later Ratom opened his eyes to see out through the open floor long left in the dust. The sand surfing shed was slowing to a crawl, and the other two were still out cold. Well they had plenty of time to rest now at least he thought, throwing off a heavy set of clippers that had almost clipped his neck. A set of lights beamed across the gravel as knights in tactical armor searched the premises. Ratom ducked back behind cover, and zipped his mouth that had been previously stitched together by Nancy shut. The shed was dark as the flashlights moved to another quadrant.
“I can’t believe Edward sent me away from him, I should have never let him trick me away from getting my revenge,” fumed a deeply smoked voice from somewhere in the dark pits of the reanimated skeleton.
The shed groaned in frustration and tilted on a knife's edge. Its occupants were thrown into the deep end and covered in debris.
“Farc it we are back in the thick of it, right back in our hometown being torn down,” stammered Mickey.
“Good thing the dead don’t need homes to sleep then,” said Ratom.
“Enough, we need to figure out where to go guide me zombie leprechauns back to Edward to finish him,” cried Nancy, her bones popping as she tried to take a stand.
That was the final straw that sent the small building falling again. It picked up speed and shot out of the neighborhood through a trench in the woods. On the outskirts of the operation knights taking a break on the edge of the demolition stopped to watch the distant shadow race towards the massive hole dug into the ground at the end. The unidentified object dodged past a dump truck, rolled across a winding dirt road, and zipped out of view down another banking into the depths of the gravel pit.
“Lets go guys stop idling around,” called a voice that cut through the knights helmets.
They jumped to attention and grabbed shovels, rakes, and stop signs to hold traffic.
“Clear the road boys I'm coming through,” boomed Killin Hood through a bullhorn.
Main street was really starting to rumble now. A crew of men worked overtime to clear away the old asphalt previously broken apart with heavy machinery. They were cut off by the screeching of a collapsing dwelling and the thick layer of dust it had kicked over the neighborhood. The last leprechaun home was no more.
“HaHAha, Remember folks I’m driving a super milling machine so you best clear out the way,” boomed Killin Hood, pressing the lever down as far as it would travel.
A thick cloud of soot billowed the vehicle rumbling forward like a demon. The exposed ground unearthed by the empire's construction crew was being paved over with a molten road. The ugliest machine in the fleet was shitting out a stream of golden pavement. Nearby the bulldozers continued to clear the area. On the outer street many vans full of builders waited patiently for their path to profit to dry. These homes would be for the nu-nobles.
Meanwhile back in the jailhouse Edward rotted away chained in his cell. A dim room with a toilet, a straw mattress, and pipe that leaked. At least he had some privacy when he wasn’t working which was a lot more than many other inmates could ever expect.
It hadn’t been long since he had been incarcerated but it already felt like an eternity. He didn't have any relocation of time or dates except that the surgical wounds on his chest were beginning to heal. His heart hurt so badly. The room spiraled while his head throbbed slowly becoming more institutionalized. He was miserable, and he was planning on doing anything but putting up with this nonsense long term.
Edward Longbottom heaved, spit, coughed, and cackled until he threw up. His lips curled into a smile as he surveyed an assorted row of crystals, coins, wires, battery from a smoke detector, and the circuit board as well. He had much bigger items hidden in storage; but unfortunately complex tasks he only had one good hand as the other was a crystalized stump. He painstakingly threaded the wires into a circuit through his handcuffs. He finally he connected the crystals making a hot wire too tight and snapped right in two.
“Farc,” Edward mumbled under his breath.
It was all good though because soon he would have a flamboyant contraption rigged and ready. He put it behind his back, and connected the dots while the guard was whistling outside. The guard approached the cell humming a pop tune, and spinning her keys. She opened the door, and jumped back ten feet.
“Oh my you ugly,” she exclaimed.
Edward sat where he had always been in the cell. His beard had gone gray and was very long, and so had his remaining chest hairs. His scales were covered in a layer of frost, and his body was damaged from battle. A hatchet stuck from a freshly mutated tail that thrashed against the floor. The crystal stump he had once fit a hook was now far too swollen to fit any attachments and eyes had remained deranged.
“You didn’t see anything,” he hissed with a tongue now closer to a snake than human.
He rested his head while his human hand worked the crystals.
“ZAAP!”
“Ahhh that’s better, you can’t keep a good monster down,” laughed Edward, vibing off the shock provided with a stored electroshock stone.
He cursed to himself as the unit smoked, unable to deliver anymore charges to amp him up. The gizmo he had built exploded on the wall, a shower of circuitry and spent crystals. Edward popped out the hidden heavy metal weapon he had stashed inside the walls.
“Now it’s time to blow this joint,” he yelled, grabbing firmly on a g string and letting it sing.