Queen Elizebethy the 13th’s mouth froze into a frown underneath her crown. She sat alone on her throne of crystal keeping watch out the frosted window. Another of her heirs would be kicking the bucket. The assassin had technically passed their first mission of killing the Prince’s girlfriend, but being a necromancer Nancy had come back for more in the core. Edward would be back-stabbed by her same secret agent asset Octo Ion.
A group of nine Knights had found and captured Nancy reincarnated from the dead. She had done an interview with the dead girl for information. The problem is that she didn’t feel any pain, or have much of any useful information being brain-dead full of mush. The Queen growing bored dropped the zombie off the ice castle into the lava bubbling in the moat poured for this exact purpose. Now all the plots she could dream of were in motion, and all there was to do was wait. Unfortunately she had just finished emptying the ice dungeons of playthings.
The Queen turned to the banquet table loaded with cut crystal power. All the furniture had been moved to stack boxes of more crystal along all the walls while snow covered most of the floor. At the head of the table enough powder had been sucked away in order to fit a small plate of peppers, and a jar of Yarrb milk. Taking a seat the Queen bit the head off a pepper, took a sniff, and washed it all down with a gulp of the thick cold milk beginning to freeze. She laughed in cartoonishly Eval fashion.
In the meantime she had surface level problems like bootleg schlock to destroy, taxes to collect, and people to set on fire. She also needed to reproduce and spawn again to make up for all her fallen children. A new King was needed for breeding the next set of generals, but there was a critical error here. She thought all men were terribly useless, and had grown to hate them. The only thing she liked less was other women. So she was looking for a better species like an Elf, or ripped werewolf. As long as it wasn’t a dwarf, leprechaun or other being too short of stature.
On the other hand it did seem a bad idea to make more competition for the throne when she would find a way to live forever, and ever. The powers contained here in the core of the planet had the key to this longevity. It was exploring the vast unknown area until they found it that scared her. People had long looked into the stars, and tried to find the monsters camouflaged on the bottom of the ocean floor. Humans could eventually blow their minds on reaching the end of the universe given enough time to progress their technologies. She had spent a lifetime in strict worship building faith towards the spirits who inhabited this land of ice. She had limited time to discover their fountain of youth and unlimited after.
The logistics of transporting workers and goods to the core was a nightmare. For now it all teleported from a single station instead of straight from farm,prison, or barracks. The rapid expansion here had been hotly debated amongst the nobles. The Queen had been in favor of building a teleport pad next to every execution chamber, but sometimes even royalty couldn’t always get what they wanted. Simply there was no possible way to build more than a few teleportation centers with the crystals the kingdom had on hand.
In fact the crown was growing low on many basic materials like food and water. There was a metal shortage so bad several towns and villages no longer employed blacksmiths. Those still working forged stolen scraps into the items equipped on freshly conscripted pawns.
The technology needed to transport the required crystals back from the core to make the expenses worth it at the moment were not even close to being realized. Yet despite the warning signs the Queen, and most of the Princes and Princesses had increasingly called for an increase in the budget for core colonization. Behind closed doors they viciously spat with each other while desperately searching for funds to give to the Elves who now held all the cards.
“This is an opportunity that easily meets any risk. Every two-bit kingdom, empire, or so called democracy,” said the Jester doing sassy air quotes on the last one while strutting across the stage in his element. “We must colonize the core for resources to have a great jump forward, any logistics issues will spur on better technology for us all,” said Snaggy.
He had traveled from the Queen’s ice castle as a “Core ambassador” in order to keep an eye on the Capitol City council above ground. There were many secret eyes already observing every notable castle nobles.
“Understandable we get it, but do understand we will have to make some rather difficult financial decisions should the food and water fall enough to jeopardize public order,” barked the Slyman council leader from the end of the massive feasting table stacked with grub.
Snaggy had not been invited to eat. He, a man of high efficiency, had let himself in to share his orders before moving on to the next task assigned. The leaders thought they had successfully avoided the fool all day, but he had decided to show up when everyone had gathered together for supper. The council collectively ripped and teared into their giant bird meat, drowning out any further words with schlock , and overflowing mouthfuls of food. A servant carried in a tray of smoked larva, and cocoons sitting it down at the head of the table, picked the empty silver tray, and took it towards the kitchen for a second helping.
Snaggy waited patiently beside the leader for another word. Eventually the eyes on the back of the Slyman's head began to draw him mad seeing the jester watching him eat.
“What else does she want?” he cried, spitting all over the fool out of deliberate malice.
“That I clean this place up and act as the royals sole representative directly straight from the new Capital City in the core. At once the crown has ordered all scrolls,maps, and signs be changed to reflect this transition of power. This city will now be known as Ordinary City Number 9.” said Snaggy.
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Fear briefly flashed in many eyes as all stopped eating.
“So what does it mean for us then?” quivered the head.
The door opened as Elite Knights entered standing behind the Jester with flamethrowers.
“To prevent any power struggles you will each be separately moved to different councils all around the lands in order to help the kingdom prosper the best it can. Now please come with the Knights. They each have a different letter for each of you with instructions. So find your match,” said Snaggy, smiling he opened his book.
Snaggy paraded their dirty clothes out flamboyantly in between the lines of the pages.
“Now we can show these in the open and say that it improved behavior, and corruption with pressure. You know what it is. An extensively detailed naughty list of you nobles with pictures, and audio to go along with to shame you into action,” announced Shaggy, bowing when he was finished.
The nobles were speechless as escape options were considered. Then the soldiers descended with clubs to further help clear up their minds. The chairs dragged out from the table noisily by the standing council. These landowners of considerable property holdings who with great reluctance followed their orders with little other choice in the matter. They were escorted out the door, down the dirty streets in their fancy clothes as crowds gawked, and shoved into a waiting train car. The royal snitches were eating well tonight.
The prison gate swung open letting natural light pour into the large holding cell, as did a swarm of guards forcing the prisoners into a corner. A lanky prisoner dressed in beggars clothes knocked into the man behind him, almost tipping three.
“My bad there sir sorry,” said the prisoner in a soiled trench coat with odd looking hands and feet.
“Shut yer traps at once!” screamed a guard glaring into the crowd.
The sound was executed, except the distant squeaking of rodents. A plump overhung belly entered the room first followed by the dark hood of the dungeon master. Guards held the black salute, while he stretched to grab the megaphone from the floor. In his other hand he unrolled a scroll that bounced off the gut, and fell to the floor.
“Ahem greetings all. Your lucky lot have been chosen by the crown for a transfer to a new much more accommodating location. You will be separated into groups of 12 by name at once, and transferred via prison carriage. That is all.” said the dungeon master.
He did a little bow that turned into a yellow salute. It wasn't held for long before he whisked away as quickly as he had arrived. To cross off the next dungeon on his list.
“Psst,” whispered a small voice from the bottom of the trench coat.
Mickey looked down at the other leprechaun. He stood on a dude with an angrily questioning face. His head stuck under the coat only leaving the green cap.
“Are we still going to find some way out of this?” cried Mickey, once the covers above had been sealed.
“When the opportunity presents itself, and if you don’t blow our cover brother” scolded Ratom.
The head stuck back out of the trench coat to see the outside. The line in front of them had begun to filter out of the holding cell.
“One foot over the other foot, times to get moving, another foot to our stop,” sang Mickey.
Ratom struggled with carrying the weight of both of them forward. His only peephole was through a slightly unzipped fly. The walls here all looked the same filthy color, and the cells were uniform. Thankfully a guard elbowed his yelping brother whenever he walked too far off course. As long as they remained disguised they had a chance of breaking apart and slipping away undetected.
"Common lazy criminals up these stairs let's go," boomed an amplified voice.
The air already smelled better here, but the staircase was not up to leprechaun code. Ratom struggled mightily, and Mickey became increasingly worried with a guard's hot breath down his neck. The little legs carrying two could only manage a step up every 15 seconds or so. The guard drew even closer with a shocking stick.
"Hey I think this prisoner needs a wheelchair so lets laugh at him struggling instead," he called.
"Hahaha," another laughed.
The group had been held together a month inside the walls of the crown's detention den number 5. They found themselves walking past the barriers next to the warden's office. Somebody could be heard having a lot of fun in the break room. The signs plastered to the walls read the strict rules of the facility, while they walked through two more reinforced doors for security. A loud grinding sound emerged from the turning gears of the final exit.
The suns blinded the group of prisoners into submission. They stood at the threshold waiting for eyes to adjust to the rays. They were forced forward into the yard, and broken into two after shuffling into the loading zone. This was a barbed fenced zone with many towers having many archers on top guarding, many more exploding bombs hidden on the other side of the fence, and dogs that looked hungry. In addition many more bombs could be dropped from the patrolling aluminum zeppelins above.
“Into this car at once gentlemen” said the guard, escorting them.
The first man into the car let off a cough as more funneled into the dark stink inside. The smell of sulfur, rotting eggs, defecation, and dead flesh all combined. It could have been anything that had previously died, but good chance it was once a prisoner of the crown. The opened doors behind them let in just enough light to see half way inside. As some of the first to board Mickey, and Ratom found themselves pressed to the back wall covered in shadows.
“Watch where you step, I'm sitting here,'' a voice slowly managed to wheeze out from the dark.
“Well get up then, and make room,” said Ratom.
“Can’t do anything Leprechaun. If only you could see how broken I am. I’m afraid all that’s holding my organs in is a bit of tape, plaster, and glue” sighed the voice.
"That's not good," blurted Mickey.
"Oh I see there's more leprechauns in here, nice to meet you. I'm Humpy Dumpy or used to be before they broke me" he said.
Overhearing this the prisoners remained silent after until they were all aboard. A guard quickly slid the door shut, and then loudly bolted it from outside. One of many prison cars on the slow moving jail train that would be taking them to the teleportation center. Nicknamed the crazy train because the first 6 cars were dedicated to transportation of those from the royal nut house.