Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.

Turns out taking over your family's estate after a bloody coup d'état was a bigger headache than people realize. At least, that's what Morty thought as he got off the phone with one of his family's business partners down in Louisiana.

He rubbed his face in frustration. The days after his "ascension" to being the head of the Duval Family estate has been nothing but headaches as he's been forging his father's signatures and making phone calls informing people of his grandfather's sudden and tragic death, as well as his father's "sudden" and "tragic" death not long after.

He did so in that order, his genuine emotions at losing his grandfather helped sell the lie that his father dying was anything but a blessing for him! Well, it will be after he gets done forging the paperwork.

He sighed as he made to rise from his fath- HIS desk, before sitting back down with a wince of pain. The sisters were quite... enthusiastic after the bloodbath. If anything he was more bruised from them than he was from Jeb!

He rang a bell nearby and waited. After a minute a goblin ran in... wearing a bloody ragged maids outfit.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

The green would-be maid looked down at the dress.

"I fot it looked noice."

Morty just stared at the goblin with absolute confusion.

"Whatever. Get me a bag of ice!"

"Yes Boss!" The goblin maid bowed before rushing off.

Morty sighed as he shook his head. The goblins have started "filling in" the roles around the manor. His honor guard and the Headman have taken a liking to wearing his family's old colonial uniforms and have more or less formed his house guards. Two were stationed outside his office right now. The "Red Caps" as he has been calling them, which they have taken to with zeal, wore the white, gold and blue uniforms with something resembling actual discipline!

They even adjusted them to fit with their short heights. They also weren't hunching over like they used to, instead they actually stood straight! It seemed the military aesthetic instilled in them a sense of order and pride. Not that he was complaining, it just meant they were more competent and less likely to die from random bouts of violence that was fairly common to the greenskins.

Speaking of.

"No! Da bushes ought ta look loike bares!"

Morty watched out his office window as two "grounds keepers" bickered over what the hedges should be shaped like.

"NO! 'Orses is moor ma-jes-tik!"

"BARES!"

"'ORSES!"

"BARES!"

The "'Orse" goblin's patience ran out as he plunged his hedge trimmers into the "Bare" goblin, repeatedly. Sniffing he proceeded to trim the hedges.

"'Orses is noicer."

Good thing they set up a few spawning pools around the manor. While the "luxury" living seems to have lessened their violent impulses. It didn't completely wipe them away.

The goblin maid returned with a bag of ice. Which Morty promptly placed on his groin with a hiss of shock, followed by a groan of pleasure as the coolness relieved the soreness.

"Will dat be all Boss?"

Morty nodded with his eyes closed, with that the goblin maid bowed and departed. They had at least two spawning pools set up. One was in the servants quarters, where the goblins that were spawned were given chores, and apparently took the now unowned clothes of the former servants.

The other pool was in the armory. Where the soldiers were "born" and were being trained in the, bastardized, ways of Napoleonic warfare. Which was something to behold as he watched a line of his budding Vert Armee march by in a rough, but still half decent, formation. Most were wearing their usual haphazard scraps, but the lead officers wore the colonial uniforms. Bloody Red Tricornes accentuating that they were the ones in charge.

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

Maybe he could place an order for some cloth, or maybe see if he can get some more uniforms. The idea of Napoleonic Goblins marching around town gave Morty a chuckle at the absurdness. Then he remembered that there's a 12-pounder cannon in the armory. Maybe he should have the sisters move it outside. The last thing he wants is a cannonball flying through the manor!

-----

The Mayoral motorcade along with the Sheriff pulled into the driveway of the Duval estate. The Mayor, the City Council, and the Sheriff plus a couple deputies got out of their vehicles and approached the thick doors of the manor. They paused halfway though when they noticed the short, green skinned, men posted on either side of the doors. They looked to be wearing some kind of Revolutionary War outfits, they even wielded muskets!

"Good God! Who the devil are they?!" One of the Councilmen asked, aghast at the unsightly people.

"We'll find out when we get up there, sir." The Sheriff stated, exasperated already at being called away from his duty to babysit the political class of the town.

So they made their ways towards the doors, and the green men that guarded it. The Sheriff and Mayor in front, with the Councilmen waddling behind, and the deputies on the rear. They stopped in front of the rightmost guard. The Sheriff coughed to get his attention.

"We're here to see Mr. Duval."

The short green man banged on the door without a word. After a minute of being under the yellow glares of the guards the door finally opened. To another short green man. This one was wearing a butlers uniform.

"'Ho is you?! Wot you want?!"

The procession retreated a step away from the beady eyed yellow glare of the butler. The Mayor gestured for the Sheriff to take the lead. Sighing he approached the, obviously leprous, butler.

"We're here to speak with Dion. Is he at home by any chance?"

The butler just squinted his beady yellow eyes at them in confusion.

"Uhm. Mr. Duval?"

"OH! Da Boss! Ya, 'es 'ere!" The green man stated.

After a long moment, and no motion for the butler to let them enter, the Sheriff spoke again.

"May we speak with him?"

"NO!" Was all they got before the thick door was slammed in their faces. The Mayor blubbered in anger and motioned for the Sheriff to try again. So he knocked once more.

"'Ho is you?! Wot you want?!" Was the same response they got from the same butler.

"We're here to speak wit-"

"Piss off!" Was the answer this time as the door was, yet again, slammed in their faces.

"I NEVER! OUT OF MY WAY YOU UGLY CREATURES!" The Mayor shouted and threw open the doors and barged in, to the shock of the Councilmen and Sheriff, and the malicious grins of the guards. Who just watched and waited for the group to enter the mansion foyer.

They didn't get far before a champagne bottle was thrown at them, missing them though and hitting the wall instead. They turned towards the direction it came from and found the butler there with a box of champagne, glaring and hissing at them with a sneer!

"HOW DARE YOU?!"

Another bottle was thrown.

"Fuck off! Boss is busy!"

Another crash as another bottle was thrown.

"SEE HERE YOU LITTLE MONSTER!!!"

CRASH!!!

The Sheriff pulled his gun when he noticed more of the little green men were starting to gather, and there were ALOT of them starting to converge on them! Before the skirmish could get worse though a voice came from upstairs.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS RACKET!?!?!?"

The group watched as Morty stormed over to the railing, flanked by two HUGE women.

"The fuck is going on?!"

"WHATS GOING ON IS THA-"

"Deys intrudas Boss!"

"FILTHY LITTLE LIAR!!!"

The goblin hissed and threw yet another bottle.

"ENOUGH!!! You! Get back to work!"

The butler bowed to Morty.

"Yes Boss!"

He left with a hiss and a glare at the group. The other goblins retreated as well. Morty and the sisters descended the stairs. Morty took his time, both as a way of making them wait for him, and because of his bruises. When they finally got to the bottom the Mayor was red in the face.

"Listen here you little shit! Just wait until you father hears of this rabble in his home!"

Morty smiled at the group.

"Oh? You haven't heard?"

"Heard what you brat?!"

His smile got wider.

"My father has passed away, quite recently."

The energy drained from the politicians.

"B-b-but how?!"

"Well, his lifestyle wasn't exactly... healthy. As I'm sure MOST of you VERY well know. Not only that, the sudden death of my grandfather was just too much for him."

"B-b-but, where's the body?!"

"Oh the burial was a private affair. I'm sure you understand that such an affluent family such as ours would like some privacy in our time of mourning."

"W-w-what about us?! What happens to us?!" A Councilman whined.

Morty hmm'd with a thoughtful expression for a moment before replying.

"Don't know. Don't care!"

"See here! We were promised-"

"Promises made by my father! Which I am not. As the new head of the Duval Family, and its wealth, I have decided to... trim the fat from our investments." Morty stated with a cruel smile.

"BAH! Dion wouldn't have left YOU with the fortune!" The Mayor accused.

Morty turned towards the spot where his father died.

"Well, then you didn't know my father very well. We aired out some things, talked about other things. We got quite close. One could even say it was suffocating!"

Morty turned back towards the group.

"As it stands I am the head of this household, this estate, and this wealth! If that is all gentleman. I bid you adieu!"

"What about the mine?! You can't just close it! We demand compensations and we are not leav-" The Mayor was interrupted as the Red Caps emerged from side rooms. The front door was opened and the guards were standing there. Bayonets poking into the backs of the deputies that were in the rear of the group.

"Let me put it this way you fat fuck! You can either leave with what little good will and opinion I have of you pathetic slugs, or not at all! Take your pick!" Was Morty's ultimatum. With the grins on the goblins faces as they advanced on the group though it was an easy decision. The group ran past the door guards with screams and flabby guts.

Morty chuckled as he watched them go. Though the Sheriff remained.

"You can't just threaten the Mayor or the Council like that Mortimer!"

Morty walked up to him with a swagger in his step and a grin on his face. The sisters and his Red Caps close behind.

"Oh, but I think I can. What are they going to do? Send you and dumb & dumber there to arrest me?"

Morty gestured towards the deputies, who were trying to herd the Councilmen to safety, though this did little as they were outnumbered, and out sized, by the portly politicians and it just looked like they were trying to wrestle greased pigs running around squealing. The Sheriff bit back a groan of embarrassment and left to round up the procession and his deputies.

Morty went to make his way towards the kitchen for a snack when he realized something. Why was he fighting for the mine anymore? He turned back and went out the door, just before the Mayor could get in he shouted at him.

"Hey Mayor! As 'compensation' why don't you take the mine?! A sign of goodwill and prosperity from the Duval Family to the town of Somewhere!"

Morty chuckled as he saw the look on the Mayor's fat face before turning around and continuing towards the kitchen. Let them deal with whatever it was in the mine! He can get other sources of income without it. He wasn't sure WHAT yet, but anything was better than that!