It was early evening when the courier came to pick up Malcolm.

After meeting with King Edvard and Sven, Malcolm had spent some time wandering the camp, taking in all the new sights and sounds. All around him, men labored to rebuild the town. Malcolm tried to lend help where he could, but his dislocated elbow limited his movement.

When he returned to his tent, he found a fresh set of cloths laid out for him; long red and silver robes, along with loose white pants and black leather shoes. A bowl of fresh fruit, cheese, and bread lay on the table. Malcolm gratefully devoured the food, starved from the day’s activities.

The messenger guided Malcolm back through the camp, weaving through the maze of pathways. After several long minutes, they arrived at the King’s tent. Since Malcolm’s visit in the morning, the area had been transformed into a makeshift dining hall. The blue and gold fabric sides had been rolled up, giving a full view of the town and camp. Countless torches ringed the tent, casting a flickering glow across the area.

Inside the tent, the throne had been removed and a large round table stood in its place. A half-dozen seats encircled the table, each with its own gilded plate and silverware on the table before it. Servants milled around, carrying large platters of meats, vegetables, and fruit. The medley of aromas wafted around the tent, filling the air.

A lone bald man sat at the table, staring into his glass of ale. He glanced up a Malcolm briefly and then returned to his drink.

One of the servants bowed as Malcolm approached the table. “Good evening.” he said in a nasally voice. Pulling a chair aside, he gestured Malcolm towards it. “Please sit down.” As soon as Malcolm was seated, the servant leaned over him. “Can I get you a drink? I have wine, water, and ale!”

“I will have a water.” Malcolm said. The servant bowed again and whisked away towards the table of food.

The other man at the table turned to Malcolm, eyeing him cautiously. His large hands were scarred and callused and a long scar ran across his cheek. His bald head shone in the torchlight. “I hear yer the one who kill that worm.” he snarled.

“Yes sir.” Malcolm replied. “Although I’d say the soldiers did most of the work.”

The man grunted, taking a swig of his ale. With a loud gulp, he drained the glass. “Aye. They were good men. None of the lot deserved their fates.”

Malcolm sat in silence for a few moments until the servant returned with his drink. The water looked rather plain in its gilded silver goblet. Grateful for the interruption, Malcolm took a swing. A cold minty taste filled his mouth. Malcolm stared at the goblet in surprise.

“The king has ice imported from the mountains,” the servant said. “The water is also mixed with mint for added flavor.”

“It’s delicious!” Malcolm said, taking another sip.

The servant bowed again. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I shall have a cask sent down to your tent for tomorrow. Although, I fear the ice may have melted by then.”

“You don’t have to…” Malcolm began, but the servant had already left.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it kid,” the man across the table said. “The king pays ‘em well.”

Malcolm nodded, but still couldn’t help to feel bad. Looking around at the empty table he asked, “Where is the King? I thought he was going to be here?” More importantly, he thought, where is Sven?

“Ol’ Edvard will be here soon,” the man said. “He likes to make an entrance.” After a few moments, horns blew from within the camp. Gradually, a procession came into view. The small party was flanked by rows of soldiers and torch bearers.

The other man at the table stood up, gesturing for Malcolm to do the same. As the procession came nearer, Malcolm was shocked to see Sven behind the King. Looking very disgruntled, the Goblin was dressed in a matching set of shirt and pants. He picked at the blue and gold fabric, trying to roll up his sleeves.

On either side of the King walked his children, arms gently wrapped around the elderly man. They paused their approach in front of the tent, looking over the table.

A servant stepped in front of the group and cleared his throat. “I implore you to welcome your gracious hosts; King Edvard, Princess Estrellia, and the honorable Prince Armedious.” The three bowed slightly as they were introduced.

The King looked wearier than during Malcolm’s morning visit. He clung gratefully to his son’s arm, leaning sharply. Long blue and gold robes flowed from his shoulders, trailing in the dirt at his feet. Atop his head, the royal crown was replaced with a thick golden band, inset with shimmering gems.

To the King’s left was his daughter, Princess Estrellia. She studied the tent with kind eyes, politely waving to each of the servants. The first streaks of gray were beginning to appear in her short black hair. Her dress matched the King’s robes, flowing in layers of gilded fabric. Atop her head was a small golden band, inset with a single large ruby.

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Prince Armedious’s massive muscular form towered above his father and sister. His messy blond hair was tied tight back behind his head and a long sword hung from his left hip, almost brushing the ground. Instinctively, his hand rested on the hilt. Unlike the rest of the royal party, he wore the common clothes of a soldier; a short-sleeved white cloth shirt and leather pants. Malcolm noticed a long thin scar running down the length of his left arm, ending just below the wrist.

The announcer cleared his throat again. “Already seated is the admirable General Demisatious, and…” he peered at Malcolm, “another of the King’s guests!” With a bow, he exited the tent. Horns blasted again and groups of servants emerged from behind a tent flap. With plenty of bowing and ceremony, they showed the royal family to their seats, placing them strategically around the table.

Starting from Malcolm’s right, they were seated; Prince Armedious, King Edvard, Princess Estrellia, General Demisatious, and finally Sven. The Goblin slid in next to Malcolm, grunting as he bumped his injured leg on the chair.

“How’s the leg?” Malcolm whispered.

“It be better,” Sven muttered back. He tugged at the tunic again. “This nasty shirt is worse.”

Malcolm tried to respond, but a heavy hand grasped his shoulder. Turning around he saw Armedious staring at him. “I believe we have yet to meet.” the Prince said, reaching out his hand.

Malcolm shook it, his hand popping in the Prince’s tight grip. “It is an honor to meet you!” he said.

“The honor is mine,” Armedious replied. “I hear you slew the worm? That is an impressive feat!”

“Yes…” Malcolm stammered. “Did you fight the beast as well?”

“Despite my wishes, my father forbid me from engaging. Although if it was up to me, I would have been the first to strike and the last to fall!” As if to prove his point, Armedious drew the first few inches of his sword. “My blade has yet to taste the blood of a foe that grand.” With a click, he sheathed the weapon. “From accounts of your valiant speech on the wall, you had encountered this beast before! Are there more that I may slay?”

Malcolm thought for a second. “We first came across the worm on our way to Bullhaven. There may be more, although I’m not exactly sure where they are.”

“Excellent!” Armedious exclaimed. “It shall be an adventure! Perhaps once this blasted war is over, you could lead me to remaining worms? Our blades can grow wet on the flesh of the beasts together!” He slapped Malcolm’s back, knocking the wind out of him. Ignoring Malcolm’s coughs, he turned to the General. “What do you say Uncle? Should we hunt the foul creatures?”

The General thought for a second, breaking away from his conversation with the King. “If you wish, my Prince. They would be a worthy foe!”

The Prince smiled, imagining his blade tearing through Toe-Worms. “A worthy foe indeed,” he muttered. As he stared into space, horns blew and the first course of the meal was served.

Waiters brought in a steaming ham, boiled carrots, and freshly baked bread rolls. They poured each person a large goblet of sweet red wine. Sven waved away the drink, simply requesting cold milk.

After the meat was placed on the table before him, Malcolm picked up his knife to cut the ham, but a servant stopped him. “Allow me, sir.” Pulling a blade from his belt, he cut a thick slice of meat for Malcolm. He add a buttered bread and two carrots to the plate, placing it in front of Malcolm. “Enjoy your meal. If you require something else, please ask!”

Once everyone had begun their meals, the King cleared his throat. He turned to Malcolm and Sven. “It is my pleasure this evening to host two esteemed guests; Malcolm, Slayer of the Worm, and Sven the Toe Goblin!” His other guests stared at Malcolm and Sven expectantly.

“It truly be an honor to dine with your family,” Sven said, bowing his head.

“Of course!” Malcolm added. “You have been so kind.”

The king smiled. “After your earlier treatment, it was the least I could do.” He glared at Armedious, who hastily shoved pork into his mouth. “Although I shall admit, this meal does come with a price.”

Malcolm’s heart sank as he heard the King’s words. “A price?” he asked.

“Certainly!” the King replied. “You must tell us all of your adventures! I am sure you must have the most marvelous stories. A human and Toe Goblin; I never thought I’d live to see the day!”

Malcolm chuckled apprehensively, looking at Sven. “Where should we begin…?”

For the next half hour they recounted their adventures, carefully omitting any mention of Malcolm’s murder of Svangal, Sven’s argument with the Almighty Toe, or their escape from Toehalla. As Malcolm had told Armedious earlier, they had simply encountered the Toe-Worm as they traveled to Bullhaven.

The royal family sat in silence for a few moments after Malcolm and Sven finished their tale. Finally King Edvard broke the quiet. “That was a truly magnificent tale! One of the best I’ve heard!” His family murmured their agreement.

“I don’t know much ‘bout the Toe Goblin, but I thought they hated humans,” Demisatious asked. “How come yer traveling together?”

Sven open his mouth to answer, but Malcolm cut him off. “I owe him a life debt. I… got into some trouble and he saved me.”

“I see…” The General said. “So yer working for the little thing?”

“More like temporarily assisting. My service ends after a year.”

“After which you shall lead me to the worms!” Armedious said, pounding his fist on the table.

“Of course.” Malcolm said.

“I have a question,” Estrellia began. “So the… Almighty Toe sent you to assist us? What help can you provide?”

“You are correct, your Majesticness!” Sven said. “We be great strategists among the Toe Goblins.”

“Actually,” the King said. “I was discussing this matter with my General…” he looked at Demisatious. “And we feel we may have an alternative use of your skills. We have a current lack of… information regarding the approaching forces and...”

Sven interrupted him. “You be wantin’ us to do the sneakin’ and stabbin’?”

“Well… yes,” The King replied. “Although, I would advise you keep the ‘stabbing’ to a minimum. Your roles would be strictly reconnaissance and gathering information; stealing documents, intercepting messages, anything that may prove useful to our cause.” He turned to General Demisatious. “You would be under the direction of my brother, one of the finest men I know.” Demisatious grunted his approval, glancing up from his third goblet of ale.

“That is a very kind offer,” Malcolm said. “We will certainly consider it carefully.”

“I be done considerin’,” Sven announced moments later. “We be honored to accepted your idea.” Malcolm glared at Sven, poking the Goblins side. “Less nasty humans, more stabbin’.” Sven whispered.

“Excellent!” The King exclaimed, clapping his hands. “You shall begin in the morning!”

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Course after course of fine meats, vegetables, and breads were served, finally ending with a seven-layer cake. In between courses, Malcolm and Sven answered the family’s questions about Toehalla, Toe-Goblins, and the Toe-Worm.

It was late when the meal finally ended, and Malcolm gratefully stumbled back to his tent, immediately flopping down on the cot. Within minutes, he was asleep.