Vevic leaned back in her chair and set her feet on the railing as she watched her minions mill about the courtyard. It was late evening and her day was finished, which meant she had the rest of the evening to conjure a bit of wine and relax on the balcony with one of the many dusty tomes that had been left in the castle library. Tonight’s book was The Annotated History of the Fortress Rumadrane. She had found it sitting on a desk in the captain’s quarters and wrapped in leather. After reading its title, she had immediately decided upon it for her nightly reading.
So far, she had learned that Rumadrane had been built by the first Iglynian Empire over seven hundred years ago. Its purpose was to keep watch over the Sommerdale valley and to regulate all trade and travel coming through Krakoam Pass.
She had also learned that Rumadrane had never been taken by force of arms because apparently fortresses built atop mountains were difficult to assault and easy to defend, so long as you had a strong store of food and supplies. Which, for Rumadrane, was part of the trick. For in her reading, she had learned that there existed a handy little route through the mountain tunnels that would lead straight to the valley floor where Rumadrane’s occupying force could then smuggle goods, troops, food, weapons, whores, mortar, ammunition, or practically anything else in via the secret passage. That is, provided they didn’t get lost in the mountain’s subterranean tunnels.
She took note. Apparently the catacombs were more useful than she thought.
Next, she learned that while the fortress itself had never been taken by force, it had been abandoned several times. The first being after the Iglynian Empire’s fall in 138, when its forces had withdrawn and the fortress had sat empty for over two centuries1.
Then, in 384, a wizard named Thalnore had found the abandoned fortress and taken up residence. Somewhere in his first year, Thalnore had found the fortress’s journal and decided it would be fitting if he recorded his time there alongside the Empire’s. While Vevic didn’t find this as funny or as ironic as Thalnore apparently did, she had to admit the wizard’s entries were far more entertaining than the Empire’s were. Thalnore had recorded himself doing everything from failed experiments, to building work golems, to magical housekeeping, to the arrivals and departures of his inter-dimensional guests. There were paragraphs on what portals he planned on building and how he wanted to go about building them. Then there were records of potions brewed, their theoretical qualities, and in what quantity he had stored them. He had been particularly excited about his experiments with the golems and had several chapters dedicated to them and his hopes in achieving what he called ‘artificial sentience,’ whatever that was.
Then she came across a passage where he claimed he was leaving for a few weeks to visit old friends and relatives. Here, Vevic stopped reading, placed her bookmark, and set the tome down. Then, with a snap of her fingers, she summoned a glass of wine. Staring at the glass, she let her mind wander.
It was time to stop and have a good think.
In the span of less than a month, she had accomplished what took many dragons years to do. She had gained a loyal (or semi-loyal) following of thousands of goblins, hobgoblins, and gnolls. With said following, she had taken control of a large swath of the Sommerdale valley. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, she had found herself a kick-ass lair from which she could plan and launch future ventures.
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However, there was one big problem: She was beginning to feel lonely. Oh, she had her lackeys. They were always fun, she had to admit that. Remembering their exploration of the fortress ruins still brought a smile to her face. Sending goblin after goblin on deadly little quests of exploration while sipping a fine elvish red was something she wouldn’t soon forget. But goblins and hobgoblins made poor company. She had thought things improved when she had discovered the gnolls. After discovering their camp, she had taken dragon form, flew over, and landed herself right in front of their leader. After calmly explaining that they could join her little army as her elite guard or face the consequences of trespassing on her mountain, the gnoll leader had accepted her offer. However, she had shortly found out the gnolls weren’t much better than her head hobgoblin, Aackzor, whose goals in life extended to little more than plunder, rape, and the accumulation of thralls. So she sat alone on her balcony with her book and her wine and mulled the possibilities her new life stood to offer her. Such were the burdens of greatness.
She loved the sunrises and sunsets of the surface world and had yet to miss a single one. Now, as she looked out at the sliver of sun burning against the horizon, she found herself thinking back to the only person in this world she had ever loved. Her mother.
Vevic had not learned a lot of magic from her mother, only the bits that allowed her to change shape, throw a few combat spells, and summon wine, but Vevic still missed her greatly and often wondered if her mother had perished in the dungeon collapse, or if she had escaped and was out there somewhere, waiting for Vevic to find her.
The thought of her mother lingering in her mind, she watched as one of the gnolls bossed a group of goblins around the courtyard. She had observed the hyena men frequently asserting their dominance over the smaller goblins and even some of the hobgoblins. They were bigger, stronger, and more intelligent (or at least less stupid) than the others in her little army. Aackzor, being a bugbear, was still her strongest minion, but he was the only one of his kind. That left the gnolls, whom she had appointed as her personal guard, along with Aackzor at the top of the food chain.
This made the courtyard prime viewing right now as she had given orders that the fortress needed to be repaired, updated, and otherwise furnished. Since moving her little band of over two thousand goblins, hobgoblins, and gnolls up here, she had spent most of her time making sure all of the ancillary things were taken care of. Storerooms, barracks, kitchens, arms rooms, and so on all had to be filled, furnished, and staffed. Her civilian population had to be housed as did her human slaves. All of that had taken time.
Now it was time to fill out her inner command. Aackzor had already set up his office that morning. Bugbears were early risers. Brightfeather had taken care of business over the afternoon. The gnolls, however, had waited until the evening. She wasn’t sure if it was because the gnolls had been busy, were lazy, were nocturnal, or simply wanted to make some of the goblins work into the dark hours, or perhaps even all of the above, but whatever it was, it was entertaining. Twice, she had seen a gnoll blow his top at a goblin who was overtired and couldn’t understand him. Two other times, she had seen a gnoll steal something from another gnoll, which then resulted in a fight.
She was watching another fight unfold right then, as one gnoll had found another gnoll wandering around in the wrong room. They were in the shouting and threatening stage when Vevic heard a knock at the door.
Making sure she sounded properly bored and regal, she said, “Enter.”
The door creaked open as Brightfeather crept into the room. The little goblin made sure to shut the door behind him before bowing respectfully before his master.
“Mistress,” he started, “I have an urgent message from the guards on the south tower.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“There is a party of adventurers that have been spotted coming up the mountain pass, my mistress.”
Vevic sat up in her chair. This was the most exciting news she had heard in … well possibly ever. “Where are they now?”
“They’re sneaking their way up toward the west gate, your darkness.”
1Or at least that’s what the book said. In truth, shortly after the Iglynian Army moved out, a family of faeries moved in. The family elder, one Toeh T’Noafaar, had been eyeing the northwest tower for quite some time and so when he watched the last of the soldiers leave, he had seized the opportunity.
Moving in with his wife, Marra, and their three children, Uringg, Yindou, and Verily, Toeh spent the next fifty years raising his children and then watching his children raise his grandchildren until he had passed away at the ripe old age of eighty seven from congenital heart failure.
After Toeh’s death, his children all moved out, bringing their mother with them. While the small winged fae can still sometimes be spotted flitting about the fortress’s ruins, the majority of Toeh’s descendants populate the Sommerdale valley.