Captain Skellian stood atop the weathered castle top, looking down on the city of Greenfront.

Several fires burned below in the city, and people ran screaming from house to house.

He laughed. “Dying, eh?” he asked his companion.

Joe McShoots looked over to Skellian and rose his brow. “Yes, they are. How did you know?”

“Now, boy,” Skellian replied, “no need to be like that, now.”

Joe McShoots had been in the city guard for only one month, and for some reason he’d taken a liking to Skellian. After all, he had taken the lad under his wing and taught him so much already.

“Why do we do it, Skellian?” he asked. “I mean, the people, just like you or I, and they’re burning to death at our command.”

“Yes, that is correct Joe McShoots, we did this. But for good reason.”

Skellian took a long dredge of some whiskey that he’d kept in his sock.

“And that is?” Joe McShoots asked, confused.

“Well, they’re other people for a start. We don’t like other people, remember Joe?”

“Ah, yes, I remember now.”

Skellian nodded, and took another sip of the whiskey. Some piss-water tasting crap from the east, apparently.

“Joe McShoots, where did you get this awful stuff from, anyway? This has to be the worst tasting whiskey I’ve ever gulped down me gizzard.”

“Can’t remember, old Dommoniyt I think. Someone nicked it from ‘is stash.”

“Ah, well, that would explain a lot then. Next time, get some proper stuff, would you?”

“Aye, Skellian,” Joe McShoots replied.

“So,” he went on, “how long do you think the burning will last, Skellian?”

Skellian scratched his long, ginger beard. “Hmm, likely seven to eight hours, going from past burnings.”

“Now,” Joe McShoots replied, “I’m not expert on burnings, Skellian, but that seems an awfully long time for someone to be on fire, you hear me?”

“Well, lad, it’s all down to the fuel we use these days. It’s a lot better than the previous stuff we were supplied with. Burns at eight hundred mixyflasms, or somethin’ like that. I ain’t good with those long words.”

Joe McShoots whistled. “Eight hundred of anything is a lot, so now I understand where you’re comin’ from, Skell.”

“Lad,” Skellian said, placing an arm on his shoulder. “Do you enjoy this? This work we do?”

“Of course!” he burst out shouting. “I mean, I think?”

“Ah, that’s the problem with the new recruits ya see, too much thinkin’. Here, take this here whiskey and get a damn good load straight down yer bleedin’ neck. That’ll sort ye right out.”

“Cor, heck, Skell! I’m gonna cough up a lung drinking this rubbish. How on earth can you drink this?”

“When you’ve been alive seven hundred years, lad, you’ll know why.”

“That’s your answer to everything, Skell…”

Skellian took a long, deep inhale of thick black ash from the air, and said, “Come, lad, we must report this night’s events.”

They walked along the ramparts and down into the castle. In front of them sat the Queen, Dinglemunch. Her orange hair trailed down the steps of the throne, about eight or nine feet or so.

“Ah, just the pair of morons I wanted to see.”

Joe McShoots looked up at Skellian. “What in god’s name is she talking about? Morons, us?”

“Pay no mind, lad,” Skellian replied. “Your majesty! How are you on this absolutely splendid evening?”

“Splendid, Skellian?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Skellian coughed.

“My god damn city looks like a soldier’s boot. There’s black stuff everywhere. How’d you manage that?”

“Your magisty, you told us to burn the city down! Of course there’s going to be ash all over the city!”

He turned to Joe McShoots and whispered, “forgetful, that one, eh lad?”

Joe McShoots had no idea what was going on. And he blurted out, to the Queen’s face, “are you mad, Queen? Do you not remember giving us these damn orders or what?”

The Queen’s face was furious. “What in god’s holy seven bells of shit did you just say to me, young man? Why, I ought to have you flogged in the street, damn you!”

Skellian pulled the boy close. “Now, now, Dinglemunch, dear, the lad meant nothin’ by it.” He prodded a finger in the boy’s side. “Did ye, lad?”

Joe McShoots looked confused as all hell. “Uhh … no, of course not, your beautifulness.”

“Well, I guess that’s good to hear then, Joe McShoots. Now, I am glad you two are here, as I have a bone to pick with you.”

“A bone?” Skellian asked. “What sort of bone?”

She sighed. “A metaphorical one, you oaf.”

“Ah, yes, of course, your majesty.”

“Now,” she continued, “how much fuel did you use for this night’s burning?”

“A lot,” Skellian said with a grin on his face.

“Skell says it burns at eight hundred mixyflasms!” the boy said.

“What in the name of the mother of tree trunks is a mixyflasm, Skellian?”

“A unit in which we measure fire, Queen, obviously.”

The queen spat into a golden goblet then wiped her mouth with some orange fruit. “Are you mocking me, again, Skellian?”

“There is a rather high likelihood that’s what I’m doing, your absolute loveliness.”

“Guard!” she screamed to the side. “Get me my bowl, I’m going to vomit profusely.”

The guard ran into the side room and came back with a large wooden bowl. Queen Dinglemunch hacked up into it for a god thirty seconds before shooing the guard away. “You see what happens, Skellian, when you talk to me in that disgusting way? I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last no-brained, worthless guard in all the bloody world! Get that through your brain box, will you? Good. Now. You claim to have used enough fuel that it burned at eight hundred, well, whatever the word is. Guard, do you think that’s accurate? I think Skellian is talking out of his knee again.”

“I wouldn’t know me lady,” the guard said. “I don’t know nothin’ and I don’t see nothin’ either. I just grabs things and does what I’m told.”

“That is very true, guard. Now leave us before I throw up on you.”

Joe McShoots butted in. “Queen, what is the problem here? We needed to use that much fuel for reasons.”

“Did you now?” she replied, eyebrow raised. “I think you are just sticking up for your friend here, you young urch. Now shut up and let the captain do the talking.”

“It’s ok, lad,” Skellian said, stepping forward. “Your majesty, we used too much fuel, I admit-”

“Do you know how expensive that damn stuff is, Skellian? You think a load of city folk just piss into barrels and we use that? No! We get this stuff in from the Jerantom lands, you see, very far away, too far almost. Takes two months to get one shipment. You used six months worth of fuel on one bloody poxy city.”

“Sweet timber rot, I didn’t realise my Queen! Really, I didn’t!”

It was at that time that Jamboree man entered through a side door. He was riding an exotic camel that for some reason, wore a green and pink spiky hat.

“Ah! Jamboree man, I haven’t seen you in yonks!” Skellian shouted with glee.

“Excuse me?” the Queen shouted. “Who on earth are you, man? And what are you doing in my damn castle?”

Skellian chuckled. “Don’t worry bout ‘im, Queen, he’s an old friend from the Jambo region.

“I don’t care if he’s a parrot with fatal liver disease, Skellian, what is he doing here?”

“Well, how do I know? I ain’t spoke to him yet.”

Joe McShoots tugged on Skellian’s cape. “Skell, I don’t like the look of old Jamboree over there. He’s got a look in his eye.”

“Don’t worry, McShoots, me and Jamboree go way back. No foolin’, he’s cool as a cornicopic sand urchin. Trust me.”

“I SAID EXCUSE ME?” the Queen exploded. “That is enough! Guard, get Jamborony, or whatever he is, out of my bloody castle! And tie that camel up somewhere, we’ll have it gutted later.”

Joe McShoots shouted, “No! You can’t! The camel did nothin’ wrong. Tell her, Skell! Tell her now!”

“He’s right, you know. That camel ain’t done nothin to no one, Queen.”

Jamboree man exploded with rage. He leaped off the camel and pulled out a few cabbages from his satchel.

“What the-” Skellian gasped while watching Jamboree man. “Jamboree, what do you think you’re doing, man?”

Joe McShoots looked confused, and tugged on Skellian’s arm frantically. “Skell, what’s ol’ Jamboree playing at?”

Skellian ripped free of McShoots grip, and ran for the queen. “Queen! Get down! Down, I say!”

“Oh shit…” Queen Dinglemunch said as she witnessed the fuse hanging out of one of the cabbages.

“He’s gonna blow this place to kingdom come!” Skellian screamed. He was one meter away from the queen as he saw the lit cabbage bouncing along the ground in front of him. He bent down to grab it, and threw it back in the direction of old Jamboree. Jamboree man ducked and his camel took the explosive straight in the face, tearing its head clean off.

“JAMBOREE!” Skellian roared. “Just what in the name of phantom whales was that?!”

Jamboree man looked back at the remains of his camel, the spiky hat now lay on the cold hard floor, burning into ash. Jamboree grabbed another cabbage and lit the fuse.

Queen Dinglemunch screamed and stood up quickly from her throne, where she proceeded to trip over her long hair. A loud crunch came from her neck as she hit the ground with speed.

Joe McShoots stepped forward slowly, and Jamboree man blew out his fuse, before noticing two guards running straight for him. “Skell!” he shouted. “Please, help!”

Skellian didn’t know what to do. Jamboree man had just murdered his queen. Or at least scared her enough to murder herself… One of the two.

Skellian sighed, and said “fuck it. Fuck it all to hell.” He then released his sword from its scabbard and cut down the two guards with ease.

“She’s … dead,” Joe McShoots said in a confused voice.

“Aye, lad. Dead. Deader than a rat-infested corpse in a hole in the ground.”

“Skell, that was a bit too much. But anyway, what the hell do we do now?”

Skellian spat to the side, before saying, “well. First I’m going to give ol’ Jamboree there a right good bollocking for the shit he’s just pulled here in this castle, McShoots. After that … I ain’t given it much thought.”