Duval Estate (A couple miles south).

It was about damn time, Morty thought as he gazed at one of the three deposits that he had heard, and went through so much trouble for, about. Turns out, where his scouts saw the troll encampment and the lair of that big two-headed whatcha-calls-it was actually where the iron was!

So it was rather simple enough to find it again, the not so simple thing was getting there and making enough of a cleared path for tools and supplies to make it to the dig site and for the resources to come back. Which, thanks to the fact that said two-headed thing had both brains blown out by he could only guess were the Feds since he doubt some hillbilly's hunting rifle could pierce the thick skulls, made clearance a bit of an issue still.

So no big thingamabob or trolls to clear the way. So he had to pick and choose which of the deposits he wanted first. Since the goblins didn't have the skill or knowhow to work lead, stone was his first thought. But he didn't have the infrastructure to handle hauling stone over uneven and rough paths. So iron it was! Sure they had to clear out some of the trolls that still squatted nearby. But some grease bombs hurled by his trogs and black leather clad goblins was enough to drive them away without too much trouble.

He wanted to be careful with how he went about getting gunpowder lest it look suspicious enough for him to end up as the Fed's next target. A simple solution? Use all the excess grease from all the pizza he's been ordering! A pitcher of fryer grease encased in a metal shell with a dash of gunpowder and a wick to make it go boom and he had a easy make grenade that covered its targets in burning grease!

About time the nobles started being useful, Morty thought as his forces finished clearing out the trolls so that the dragues could move in and begin mining. He was going to have a very interesting chat with them about their continued presence at his estate and their usefulness when he returned.

They were proving to be more problematic than he thought. They've so far proven that they were utterly incompetent, gluttonous, slothful, and all around a hinderance to his finances. He's tried REALLY hard not to immediately have them dealt with in a fitting manner but hesitated for the fact that they had supposed support among the people.

"Ticks would be more received by those people." Morty muttered to himself as he watched ramshackle huts and dwellings tore down and burnt and the sounds of picks and grunts and cries as the Red Cap taskmasters kept the dragues in line and working.

After their guards' poor, some would say absent, performance during the battle with the trolls. Morty had pressed upon them a need for some... compensation. After all! If it weren't for his men, the nobles would be troll shit by now!

So Morty "requested" all of the guards, and "generously" placed the nobles under his protection. Sure this is what he was kinda planning to do anyway by essentially puppeting the nobility. But they had to go and be worthless. Even their supposed calls of cooperation between the newcomers from Dale or Dail or whatever it was called, fell on deaf ears as his forces were treated with fear at best, contempt and open hostility at worst.

So he threw his supposedly clever plans away and just got straight to the point. It was pretty much obvious to everyone what was happening now, but he would lay it out plainly when he returned just that there wasn't any confusion. Or misunderstandings about their new rolls.

At least the Colonel was better off, Morty thought as he recalled some of the reports he got from him. The addition of trogs and the noble guards has helped lighten his load in town. With the presence of the trogs, violent crime has all but vanished as the big dumb brutes seemed to have scared people straight! With the guards, some elvish some human, they're apparently being used as a way to alleviate tensions and avoid conflict with the locals and his forces.

Sure the Colonel reported gunfire and a large gang heading southwest(ish) being the reason for the drop in violent crime recently. But he dismissed that idea. What would a gang want with a bunch of halfling farmers and how could they possibly beat a gang on their own? Then he thought of Clive. Wasn't he living with them still, Morty thought. Maybe it might be a good idea to check on him, Jeb too. It's been a while since they've all met up.

"Maybe later when I have time." Morty said to himself as he watched the dragues begin moving rock and gravel away, and the beginning of his wealth flow out in the form of rocks flecked red with iron.

The best part about iron? You could do pretty much anything with it. Cutlery, dishes, weapons, nails, tools and even cannons. Some cultures way back when even used it as currency. He'll stick with the good ol' dollar though, Morty thought as the rough iron ore was brought to a few trogs outfitted with large packs. When his workforce was able to make proper roads they would be reassigned elsewhere. But for now, it was easier to have them haul it than use the weird boxcar/automobile monstrosity that the goblins had cobbled together for such a purpose.

When the iron arrived, it would be mostly used for repairs or forging simple stuff like nails, tools, and bayonets. Maybe swords and sabers or axes and picks. But mostly basic stuff for now. From there they would be distributed to where it was needed in his little slice of Appalachia. Either returning back to the mine in the form of tools or along the workforce that was being used to clear another path towards the stone and lead deposits. Or sent to town to be sold by his goblin merchants, mainly sold TO his own forces or those that tolerate them enough to do business, or to the Colonel as simple armaments.

That was the plan anyway, one foot in front of the other, Morty thought as he and the sisters returned to the estate. He still kept an eye on the surrounding woods. The trolls might be gone from the area but his scouts have reported that many that escaped from the battle have begun to spread out and set up hovels and dwellings throughout the Appalachians, or at least as far as his scouts were willing to go. But at least they weren't his problem anymore.

Even so, he had some troops make outposts at the other two deposits and another would be built here at the iron mine. He'd be damned if he went through all this trouble just for a bunch of horrid trolls to come down from the mountains and smash his mining operations!

So some excess wood was diverted to make some walls and a tower or two for security. Some shelter for the Red Cap taskmasters, the goblin guards, and the noble goblins that were to oversee the actual running of things. As well as storage for provisions and supplies. The scraps would be given to the dragues so they could set up their little shanty towns to squalor around in.

Then there was plans for proper roads or at the very least smooth paths to travel on. Morty was getting tired of practically being carried when going through the woods along the cleared areas that were now devoid of tree life save for some stubborn stumps and other brush that had yet to be completely cleared. It also wouldn't be a bad idea to set up some sort of outpost, depot, or even possibly a fort where the three roads would meet for added protection out here in the wilds.

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He and the sisters crossed the green genelake that continued to spit out trogs as well as burlier goblins that apparently had some minor regenerative qualities, passed by the ever growing slums that housed, and he used the term loosely, the dragues. Then the familiar encampment that held the grunts of his forces. Then finally he was back home.

He nodded to the head butler as Morty poured himself a drink.

"Retrieve the nobles. There are some things that need to be straightened out."

The head butler bowed his head and went to do as commanded. In the meantime, Morty content himself with a plate of beignets while he waited for the tubs of lard to waddle down from their abodes. Not like they had a choice anymore, Morty thought. With their guards pressganged into his service and replaced with his own greenskinned ones they would come no matter if they wanted to or not.

Fortunately for them, they did come down... eventually and with much heaving and ruddy faces aplenty. Lords Halifeor and Caeywin dipped their heads.

"How may we be of service?"

"You know? I've been asking myself that for sometime now. How can you be of service? Want to know the answer to that?" Morty asked after chasing the sugary confection with a swig of bourbon.

"Well, we are nobles and as such we can-"

"DO FUCK ALL!!!" Morty yelled.

"Since your arrival at my estate you've been nothing but a fucking strain on my resources! My income has taken a fucking nose dive stuffing your faces with greasy slop! Half my house has been taken over with your arrogant stink that would put even my own father to shame! And you wanna know the best part?! You're supposed "influence" among the common folk is trash if not outright non-existent!"

One of the nobles sputtered indignantly.

"Now see here! We are nobility and we demand to be treated such!"

"Oh but of course! Girls?" Morty said and with a gesture the two ogres moved towards the now quite frightened nobles.

"Wh-wh-what we mean is that the common folk have forgotten their place in regards to the ruling class! It's that incompetent Duchess's fault! That's it!"

"Really? The Duchess that has about as much power as you? The Duchess that as far as my reports from town have gathered is barely hanging on by a thread keeping her people from just up and leaving and heading off into the wild blue yonder?"

"Yes! Her! She clearly doesn't have the mettle and fortitude to rule!"

"And you do?" Morty asked with more than a little skepticism.

"Of course! When the royals are wavering it is up to the nobility to step in and show them the way!" Lord Halifeor declared.

"So why haven't you?"

"Erm, what?"

"If it is your place to step up, why haven't you? Why is it that you are here stuffing your faces with my food and living off my money and not out there rallying people to your banner? Why is it that what little influence you exert has been met with ridicule and scorn?" Morty asked as he stepped closer to the noble lords.

"It's as we said! The unwashed masses have forgotten their place! They need to be shown that we are the ones in charge!"

"You?"

"Yes! Us!"

"Not me?"

"No!... wait-" The lord didn't finish as Morty slammed a fist into his blubberous gut, causing him to fall forward and vomit up partially digested breadsticks and pizza. Morty wrinkled his nose as he spoke.

"So you want me and my men to do all the hard work while you sit around and do nothing while claiming what I have worked hard for?!"

Lord Caeywin stuttered as he starred down at Lord Halifeor.

"What he meant was-"

"Shove it! Here's how it's going to go down now! You and your families will do whatever I tell you to! The fair will still go on as planned, but the only thing you will get is the fucking privilege of sitting in a cushioned seat and smiling and waving! ALL the money is mine! ALL the goodwill, reputation, and prestige is MINE! Is that clear?!"

The elvish lord nodded, his once fine sylvan features rounded by layers of grease and fat in the short amount of time they've been here jiggled as a result. The human lord coughed and spat but nodded as he tried to pick himself up in an effort to maintain some level of dignity.

"Good. As you said, you are still nobility and with that your names come with some weight. But I would recommend not risking my ire and me putting one of your more influenceable children in your place. Your names hold weight, but that only goes so far with the one that is seen to be the head of the household." Morty said as he recalled his own family's reputation.

It hasn't always been sour. It was actually pretty good when they arrived with old southern money and opened up the coal mine. But then the whole debacle with the hillfolk and the national guard happened and his family name hasn't recovered since. But then again, his family has been basically headed by his father for many years now, who despite his appearance was little changed from when he was younger. Older sure, but he only cared about his own lifestyle. Same as these nobles did. They wanted to coast by on their wealth and status.

But not Morty. Sure he enjoyed the highlife. But he wanted more than just to coast now. He wanted freedom, TRUE freedom. The kind that comes when you are in control. He wanted a whole town that bowed to his will! Not unlike when his family first opened the mine and the town was owned in all but name.

But then time, lawsuits, the stock market, and bureaucracy changed that. But he would have that again. He would DEMAND that! He would rule this town like his family did before! If these nobles wanted to share in that then they would have to work for it like he's had to. The orc and the goblins, his own wretch of a father, the union workers, trolls and whatever else that will no doubt come his way! This town will be his Versailles! His own personal fiefdom to rule as he sees fit and he will leave a name and legacy that his children will enjoy long after he's gone!

Morty was brought out of his delusions of grandeur by the front door knocking. He dismissed the nobles before making his way to the door with the sisters giving disgusted looks at the fleeing nobles as they followed close behind him. He opened the door and came face to face with the sheriff and one other person.

The sheriff nodded and cast a wary eye towards the sisters and the Red Cap guards.

"Evenin' Mortimer."

"Sheriff. What do I owe the pleasure of your arrival? And is this something I should be calling my lawyers for?"

"Depends on what you did and if you can actually call your lawyers with the cell services bein' as they are."

"Then let me rephrase that. Why are you bugging me and why is it you think I might be involved?"

The sheriff sighed.

"Look, just answer a few questions and believe me I'll be glad to get away from here and back to serious matters."

The sheriff gestured to the man just behind him.

"Sir?"

The man coughed and shuffled nervously.

"Evenin' sir. My name is Mac Devens. I'm here to see my sister. Ms. Carol Devens."

Why does that name sound familiar, Morty thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"Don't know who that is."

Morty made to close the door but was stopped as the hayseed put a strong hand from years of tough farm work against the door. Earning hostile glares and threatening growls from the ogres and hobgoblins. Which also earned a nervous glance from the sheriff as he put his hand on his holster.

"Please sir! I ain't heard from my sister in months! If you could at least tell me where I might find her if she don't work here no more, I'd appreciate it!"

Morty let out an annoyed sigh.

"Listen here, Little House On The Prairie. I don't know who this Carol Devens is and I don't know when or where she left to and it isn't my concern."

"Mortimer if you would just-" The Sheriff started before Morty cut him off.

"No. I don't think I will. Do you know how many sort of people like this would come by the place when my grandfather was in charge and when my father officially took over begging for money? And it's always with some sob story! We know each other from way back when! You owe me money from that one time! We're long lost relatives on hard times! It's always the same bullshit! Just because it's some dirt farmer this time around asking about his supposed sister doesn't make it any more convincing! Now if you don't have a warrant or any other official business then you both can fuck off my private property!"

With that Morty slammed the door and the hayseed and sheriff were escorted off the property. Morty watched them through one of the side windows until they were safely off his property. Then he turned to the head butler.

"Do you recall seeing or hearing of a Carol Devens among the former staff?"

The head butler scrunched up his face in thought for a moment before speaking.

"It sounds familiar, Master. Should I do a search among the files?"

"Sure. Better make sure if they come poking around here again." Morty said as he took another look out the window. If it was one of the former staff they were looking for they wouldn't find any evidence. At least none that could be admissible in court. But the thought that this might not be the last he'll have some random family member showing up asking for someone that he might or might not have had killed was annoying.

Morty sighed as he rubbed his head.

"It's always something."

He wished things would go smoothly for a time. But at least he was making progress! Iron exploitation is underway, and the other deposits shouldn't be too far away! Hopefully. The nobles have been cowed and placed under his firm, and absolute, rule. Now he just had to deal with some country bumkin showing up and being an inconvenience and get ready to meet some halfling burglars. After that, things should be smooth sailing, Morty thought with a smile.