Guldur slumped in his throne, his empty gaze fixed on a crack in the ceiling. It was his fourth cup of tea that day—a somewhat touching attempt by a lich to maintain a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of his fortress.

The “repellent incident” was still a hot topic among the skeletons, and Ossaldo wouldn’t stop bringing him reports about undead deserters. Guldur ignored most of the skeletons’ grumbling, which now included vague threats of going on strike for “unsafe working conditions.” He needed a solution. Another alignment meeting, perhaps? Or maybe a motivational workshop?

Then the ground began to shake.

At first, Guldur thought it might be an upset ghost or perhaps a wayward dragon. But the tremors quickly turned rhythmic—giant, deliberate footsteps. Guldur straightened up, reluctantly alert.

Before he could grumble a protest, the main doors of the fortress were torn from their hinges and flung into the hall with a deafening crash. A hulking troll shoved its way through the entrance, shoulder-smashing part of the doorway as it entered.

“Was ripping the door off really necessary?” Guldur muttered, rubbing his temples. “I already had enough trouble dealing with incompetent skeletons, and now this...”

The troll ignored the remark, pounding its massive chest with one hand. “I AM GRONK!” it roared, its voice booming through the chamber.

“Yes, yes, wonderful. Gronk. What a charming name. Now, what exactly do you want?”

“THIS IS GRONK’S CAVE NOW!” the troll bellowed, completely ignoring Guldur’s sarcasm. “YOU WORK FOR GRONK! HUMANS PAY TRIBUTE! LOTS OF CHEESE FOR GRONK!”

Guldur blinked, stunned, as Gronk pointed a thick finger at Ossaldo and the other skeletons in the hall. “Does he know we’re undead?” he murmured to himself.

Ossaldo, watching from the corner, gave a helpless shrug.

Gronk wasn’t done. “GRONK WANTS CHEESE AND SOFT BED! AND YOU SING WAR SONGS FOR GRONK!”

“Well, at least he’s specific,” Guldur commented, leaning slightly to the side. “But... human tributes? Does he really think you lot have skin?”

The troll roared again, louder this time, as if sheer volume could intimidate an entire fortress. Guldur let out a long, weary sigh.

“All right, Gronk,” he said, rising slowly from his throne and descending the steps with the air of someone far too tired for this nonsense. “First of all, I have to say your approach is... how should I put this? Amateurish.”

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Gronk froze, confused. “What?”

“You storm in here, destroy my door, make absurd demands... Where’s the plan? The strategy? The finesse, Gronk?” Guldur asked, gesturing dramatically. “You’re an imposing troll, but you’re acting like a rookie. An amateur!”

“GRONK IS NOT AMATEUR!” the troll roared, thumping his chest.

“Of course not,” Guldur said smoothly. “But imagine this: instead of raiding fortresses, you could become... a businessman. A professional. A partner.”

“Partner?” Gronk tilted his head, intrigued.

“Yes, exactly!” Guldur continued, stepping closer with a persuasive smile. “Why settle for chaotic invasions when you could have steady tributes? No fighting, no hassle, and a respectable reputation in the monster community!”

“I like cheese,” Gronk muttered thoughtfully.

“And you shall have cheese! But first, every great leader must start somewhere.”

“Start where?” Gronk asked, scratching his head.

“At the foundation! Every fortress needs a strong pillar, someone to oversee daily operations—maintenance, cleaning, upkeep...” Guldur’s smile widened. “You, Gronk, would be perfect for the role. The Head of Fortress Maintenance and Custodial Services!”

“Head of what?”

“It’s simple!” the lich exclaimed, spreading his arms. “You’ll oversee everything—repairs, defenses, the... humans.” He hesitated slightly on the last word, glancing meaningfully at Ossaldo.

“Gronk likes humans. They scream a lot. Funny!”

“Exactly! You’ll organize the humans—er, skeletons—for maximum efficiency. Picture it: you, in charge, giving inspiring speeches to your loyal workforce!”

“Speeches?”

“Of course! Like, ‘Bring more stones!’ or ‘Fix that gate!’ Leadership, Gronk. Power in your hands.”

Gronk scratched his chin, considering. Finally, a wide, lopsided grin spread across his face. “Gronk likes this. Gronk will be big boss!”

“Wonderful!” Guldur exclaimed, expertly hiding his sarcasm. Producing a contract with a flourish, he unrolled it. “Now, we just need to formalize your promotion. Sign here, and it’s official—you’re the Head of Maintenance and Custodial Services!”

“Gronk can’t read,” the troll said, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“Exactly what makes you perfect for the role! No distractions from pesky paperwork. All you need to know is—you’re in charge. Trust me, Gronk, opportunities like this don’t come around every day!”

Taking an oversized quill, Gronk scrawled what looked like a mountain with legs on the parchment.

“Excellent!” Guldur said, rolling up the document. “Your first task as Head of Maintenance: organize the crew to fix the door you destroyed. Not an easy job, but I know you’re up to it.”

Gronk immediately turned to Ossaldo and the other skeletons. “YOU, SKINNY HUMANS! FIX DOOR! GRONK COMMANDS!”

Ossaldo cast a tired glance at Guldur, who merely shrugged.

“Perfect!” Guldur said, reclining on his throne. “I knew he had leadership potential.”

As night fell, Guldur watched from above as Gronk tried to lead what he called a “team meeting,” using a broken piece of the door as a clipboard.

“Who would’ve thought,” Guldur murmured, sipping tea, “that turning a troll into Head of Maintenance could be so entertaining? At least he doesn’t know what a labor contract is.”

From the hall, Gronk’s voice echoed: “TOMORROW, BRING MORE CHEESE! HUMANS WORK BETTER WITH CHEESE!”

Guldur sighed contentedly, smiling as Gronk’s snores filled the fortress.

“Head of Maintenance... Maybe I should invent more fake positions. Organized chaos is just my style.”