Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.

"FORM RANKS!" The Colonel commanded. With hasty, and sloppy, movements six hundred goblins got into formation. Most of the Vert Armee was assembled before him. There would still be a small garrison left behind to watch the dragues and to hold down the manor but for the most part the entirety of Morty's forces was now standing at attention... kinda.

While the sixty odd Red Caps stood at the head of the formation as still and dutiful as they were rigorously drilled and trained to do. The rest of the assembled greenskins were shuffling, scratching, muttering or some other manner that wasn't becoming of a proper military force!

It was a stark contrast that just further reinforced just how much the Red Caps have come. The Colonel and other Red Caps now felt a sense of revulsion and embarrassment from just the thought that they were once mere goblins not long ago! But now they were so much more. So much better!

Even their uniforms reflected that. Morty's delivery had come not long ago and the Red Caps have since changed out from the worn uniforms that they have dutifully worn for many weeks now, and have now changed into something more fitting!

They now wore pristine white dress shirts and blue frock coats over them, their shoulders were adorned with gold bullion epaulets, clean white dress pants and polished black knee boots. The Red Caps all had forward facing bicorns dyed a deep crimson red. The Colonel had a similar outfit, but he also wore a red sash that went from his left hip up to and over his right shoulder, both of which also had the epaulets. However, unlike the rest, he also had a metal cuirass that covered the white dress shirt that the sash crossed over. He also had a metal helmet that was made of polished steel with brass comb, a black mane, a black cow-hide turban, black visor edged with brass, a red plume in a small brass socket on the left side, and brass chin scales.

The Armee wasn't exempt from changes either. Most of the goblins assembled now wore a blue coat with a red piped white collar and cuffs, white piped red lapels, blue piped red cuff flaps and shoulder straps, white turnbacks piped red, and brass buttons. They also wore the tall cylindrical shakos. Most of them did anyway. After a few lines in the uniforms greatly decreased in quality and uniformity. The goblins at the back wore rough and patchwork uniforms that were thrown together just so that they would have something to cover themselves with.

It was an eyesore, the Colonel thought with distaste. But they had to make do. But it still filled him with pride to see so many that actually looked like a proper army that he was willing to overlook a few ragged uniforms.

With the armee assembled all he had to do was wait for Morty to come down from his room to lead them to... where ever it was that they were going to. He had been tight-lipped about what they were going to do, but he was excited about whatever it was.

-----

Morty stood in front of the mirror in his room as he put the finishing touches on his uniform. A few polished brass buttons here, an adjustment of the hat here, smooth this wrinkle, and done, he thought with a measure of pride.

He looked into the mirror as Napoleon himself stood before him! Well, if Napoleon was from Louisiana instead of Corsica and was an inch taller and had a pencil mustache. But other than that he was the spitting image of French Emperor! A royal blue grenadiers’ coat with a blue collar, white lapels, scarlet cuffs, white flaps with three points and scarlet lining, turned back, caught up and decorated with four grenades embroidered with gold on white cloth, the gilt buttons bore a crowned eagle. With a bicorn hat to finish the ensemble!

Just behind him the ogre sisters stood not far. They were also dressed finely. Though he couldn't get any actual dresses in their sizes in time, some of the nicer curtains still worked as makeshift dresses. Orga wore a burgundy colored curtain while Urga was draped in navy blue. A bit of gold filigree was threaded into the fabric to form intricate patterns.

A knock came at the door, which opened when Morty called. The head butler strode in and bowed.

"The food is almost ready, Master."

"Good! Is everything else set?"

"Yes, Master! Except for the horse."

"What about it?" Morty asked with some confusion. It shouldn't be hard to buy a horse, he thought.

-----

Lady Helena, formerly, of Daele strode up the steps of Town Hall with an air of purpose. Four Delta Guard surrounded her as they made their way up the steps. The green plate clinking as they followed. Behind her were the heads of the several groups that were influential in Daele, and still held sway over the people.

The raven haired Lord Halifeor represented the human nobles while his elvish counter-part the platinum blonde Lord Caeywin represented the elvish nobility. Despite the air of authority and dignity, they lost the most during the city's hurried escape. Their wealth, status, and many of their family were left behind as most chose to stay behind in their manors instead of choosing to flee. At this time and in this world they were nobles in name only.

Following them were the heads of the various merchant houses and artisan guilds. Most were of little importance by themselves but had formed a Guild Consortium that organized the trade and manufacturing in Daele. The Chairman was a dwarf with a oiled and curly red beard and blue eyes. Though the Duchess couldn't place his name.

Two sons of Ulrin accompanied an elderly human while a small swarm of gnomes followed closely. The dwarvish bankers work fast I see, thought the Duchess as she noticed the man wore similar clothes to the local people of the town and this world. Dylan and his brother had followed them to this "train yard" but he wasn't with them now as they returned.

Behind them hobbled the Bishop of the Holy Mother and the Great Sage of the tortles. Bishop Grant was a ripe sixty years old, though he would still be considered young compared to the tortle next to him that possibly aged more than a hundred!

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The last to follow were representatives of the city's less influential types. Drably garbed common folk that probably worked farms, fishing vessels, as laborers or were perhaps even members of the city's Thieves Guild. Every city had issues with the darker and less savory elements of society and Daele was no different.

The Thieves Guild and other criminal elements would no doubt begin to take advantage of the poor people of Daele in their time of need if they haven't already.

"Something else to address during todays agenda." She said with a sigh as she entered the bureaucratic center of town.

Greg jumped with a start as he beheld the line of people entering the building.

"G-g-g-g-good a-a-a-aftern-n-n-noon! T-t-t-the M-m-m-mayor w-w-w-w-"

"GREG! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THAT INFERNAL SUTTERIN'!?!?!" A voice boomed from behind a door to Greg's right.

The procession looked on as the portly mayor waddled through the door. He glared at Greg and made to shout further but stopped when he noticed the large group of people looking on. He cleared his throat before beckoning them inside.

The group entered the council chambers where they saw the town council sitting behind the long wooden desk. Leaning against one of the tables was the sheriff while his deputies sat in chairs. The mayor took a seat at the center of the council as the representatives of Daele spread out and took their own various seats. Save for the banking dwarves who were busy speaking to Greg about filling out the paperwork to transfer ownership of the rail yard to them.

The room was filled with awkward silence save for the occasional clearing of a throat or shuffle of fabric. None were sure where to even start. After many minutes of this, Sheriff Steinberg cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"If no-one will start than I will."

The Sheriff stood fully and faced the assembled refugees.

"People of... Daele?"

The Duchess and others nodded in confirmation.

"Right! People of Daele! First off. I am Sheriff Steinberg. I am the law around here! It is the duty of me and my deputies here to see to your safety! We-"

"Is there more of you?" Someone called.

"Well... no. We're a small town you see and as such-"

"You can't protect us!"

"We can and we are! We have informed the Governor of what has happened and he is sending reinforcements to see to your needs and safety until such a time we can figure out what happened and how best to proceed!"

The Mayor scoffed at that but the Sheriff ignored it.

"In the meantime we will do our best to shelter and feed you to the best of our abilities to do so."

"Where are we ta stay until then?" Came the voice of the Guild Consortium representative.

"We are currently in the process of arranging something with the local motels here in town as well as talking with some of the ranchers and farmers about housin' anyone."

Lord Halifeor scoffed.

"So our choices for shelter are crumbling public houses and barns?! Surely better accommodations are available? Even in this backwater."

The Sheriff bit back a sigh as he tried to be diplomatic.

"I'm sure we can find more suitable rooms somewhere Mr?"

"Halifeor! LORD Halifeor!"

"LORD Halifeor. You know what? I can't do it. I don't know if you guys took a wrong turn somewhere on your way to Comic-con or a ren-fair. But this is a serious issue and we don't have time to be playin' like we're in Ye Olde England!"

"How dare you!?" Lord Caeywin shouted.

"We don't have the time for this! Sorry we don't have some castle with maids and servants to look after you, my Lords, but you're goin' to have to tough it out until we can get you on your way!"

Lord Halifeor hastily stood.

"We are nobility and we will be treated with respect!"

"'Round here, respect is earned and not given! Don't matter what title you have! Ain't that right Mayor?"

The Mayor rolled his eyes and grumbled but didn't say anything. Of course things soon became heated as personalities and interests clashed within the room. The banking clan took one look inside the room and promptly decided it would be better to finish their transaction and be on their way.

Old feuds were brought up and new ones seemed to form as shouting and yelling filled the room if not the building. The only ones who seemed to not be taking any part were the Bishop and the Great Sage, who merely sat in one of the wooden pews and watched the whole thing dissolve into chaos.

The booming voices filled the air so much that few even noticed a messenger arrive. He was panting and trying to get everyone's attention to no avail. The Guild representative noticed him first and tried to quiet everyone to hear him. Also to no avail. He groaned and looked around, then he noticed the Colt .45 one of the deputies had that was out of its holster and placed on the wooden table, forgotten in the chaos. He went over and picked up the weighty piece.

"Hmm. Fine craftsmanship. Poor maintenance."

After a quick look over and a little finger work to get the dwarf's thick finger onto the trigger. He held up the .45 and pointed the barrel to the ceiling and pulled. The loud bang quickly alerted everyone to the representative.

"Not bad work."

Despite the dwarf's praise for the weapon, the rest of the room wasn't as amused. The deputy retrieved his weapon after a scathing look from the sheriff, who turned to the dwarf.

"What are you doin'?!"

The dwarf simply pointed to the messenger, who now stood fearfully of the loud bang. A cough from someone brought him out of his stupor.

"Greenskins!"

The locals of Somewhere groaned in annoyance as only two things came to mind that would fit that description. The local ferals that have been plaguing the town for some weeks now, and Morty's private army. The people of Daele, however, were more fearful than annoyed.

Regardless of feelings, the entire assembly rushed out of the room, then the building as they tried to see what had the man so hurried. As they left they saw a column of bodies marching down the main road towards Town Hall. At the head of the legion was Morty, who sat on top of a Strawberry Roan.

The people of Daele were understandably upset when they spied the horde of goblins. Greenskins in general were feared with good reason, after the siege of Daele they had even more reason to do so. If it wasn't for the human on the horse, the two ogres and strange looking tanned man next to him, they would've fled the second they saw them.

Morty stopped when he could better see the people at the town hall. He smirked at them, the mayor and sheriff in particular, and raised an arm before addressing the crowd of people, refugees of Daele and locals of Somewhere alike.

"Good citizens! I welcome you to our little town! MY little town!"

"My Vert Armee is no doubt a sight to behold to many of you! But fear not! For they serve me! I am Mortimer Duval and this is MY town! It is MY land! It is by my will and generosity that you are to be fed! Clothed! Sheltered! And protected!" As Morty said these things, several groups of goblins and Red Caps walked around distributing blankets and food to everyone. While weary initially, hunger and cold make great motivators.

"Now while the force you see before you is impressive! It is not enough to GUARANTEE your safety so far from civilization! So I have called for more men and resources to arrive in the coming days! When they get here, homes will be built and you will be greatly fed!"

Excited murmurs rippled through the sea of people. Just a little more and he'll have them eating out of the palm of his hand, Morty thought.

"Until they arrive! My soldiers here will see to your safety! Have no fear when exploring my town and lands! Whether from thieves, wild animals, or even some of the more unruly amongst the town folk! You are safe here under the watchful eyes of my Gendarmerie! For I will it and they will see it so!"

Cheers rang out from the assembled populace as they were being quickly fed and warmed. Morty smiled and waved to the people as his horse trotted nervously from the attention. It's been many years since he's been on a horse and this one wasn't used to so many people. He needed to end this quickly before he gets bucked off and his recent image to these people was ruined.

So with a final smirk and a wave to the people both near and far, especially the ones at the town hall, he turned his horse around and trotted back towards the manor. Or at least until he was far enough that he didn't have to worry about people seeing him. He dismounted and expelled a nervous breath of air.

"That went well General!" The Colonel stated.

"It did indeed, Master!" The head butler agreed.

"Did you see the looks on their faces?! That tub of lard was fuming!" Morty chuckled as he struggled to get his boot out of a stirrup.

"What now, General?"

"Now! Now you can have this horse." Morty declared as he barely caught himself from eating shit.

The Colonel looked surprised and confused.

"Why, General?"

"Because you are now firmly in charge of the town and the people. You will lead the newly formed Gendarmerie and keep things quiet and orderly. If anyone causes a fuss, deal with them quietly. When the National Guard get here you are to cooperate and aid them however you can, and if the people start asking, make it seem like it's US whos in charge."

The Colonel didn't know what to say, he was speechless at being given such a huge task. Sure he was doing it semi-formally before, but now he was being ORDERED to do it! He saluted Morty and made to mount his new steed. Morty saluted back.

"Good luck Colonel!"

The Colonel nodded before turning the horse around and returning to town to reorganize his forces into a proper peacekeeping force. With that done and out of the way for now, Morty, the sisters, and the head butler made their way back to the manor.