Nanoc and his friend returned to King Naem’s castle and were led directly to the throne room, where the king and his daughter were waiting for them.

“Did you succeed in your quest?” the king asked doubtfully.

“Yes, we were victorious against the trolls, and even brought your servant, Tiortap, back unharmed,” Nanoc declared triumphantly.

They’d found the captain laying face down on the ground near the fortress and Nanoc had dragged him all the way back to the castle. Tiortap’s clothes had been burned by the fire elemental, and he was unconscious and still smoking slightly. Rotcel ‘Loc patted a few embers burning on his helmet.

“Mostly unharmed,” Dren corrected Nanoc.

“Sorry,” Rotcel ‘Loc said. “He’ll wake up in a day or two.”

“Anyway, we’re back,” Nanoc said. “The trolls are defeated and we would like to be showered in our due reward now.”

The gnome meant dinner and maybe a real shower, but the king and the princess shared a look. The princess shook her head slightly.

“We… did not expect you to return,” the king said cautiously. “We fear we may have suggested a greater reward than our kingdom can truly pay. We are so very poor—”

“Your crown is made from gold and diamonds,” Nanoc pointed out. “We’ll take that.”

“—so very, very poor,” the king continued. “Do you know how much a castle like this costs to maintain? We only do it for the sake of the nation. And servants, too, are so expensive! Really, even the peasants in the fields have more money than us—”

Nanoc groaned; Rotcel ‘Loc had been right. The lizardling herself was far less calm about it all.

“I knew it,” Rotcel ‘Loc shouted. “I knew we needed a formal contract! You cheating—”

The princess drew a small bag from her pocket and threw it at Rotcel’s feet. The bag broke, scattering gold coins across the ground.

“We agreed that your reward would be gold and jewels,” the princess said. “I don’t think we ever settled on an actual amount. We believe this is adequate.”

“Do you know, we fought the troll king for you,” Dren said, annoyed. “He was a mighty beast, and we bested him.”

“So you claim,” the king said. “But we never saw this troll king, so—”

“Outrageous!” Rotcel ‘Loc shouted. “We saved this ten-penny kingdom!”

“And we can just as easily unsave it,” Nanoc said quietly. “Perhaps its time to usher in a republic. We could have a representative democracy installed by sundown, if you aren’t careful.”

“What? Are you threatening me, gnome?” the king demanded.

“Yes. I thought that was pretty clear.”

“Do you know, it was.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“We smashed the king troll,” Nanoc boasted. “He was a level thirty-something, and we smooshed him to nothing. I can do far worse to you.”

“Wait!” the king said, recognizing the truth in the gnome’s threat. “Perhaps we can negotiate a reward other than treasure. The traditional reward for saving the kingdom from disaster is half the kingdom and the princess’s hand in marriage.”

The barbarian and the princess grunted in unison at this suggestion. They glanced at each other, neither seeing anything they liked.

“I could never marry a gnome,” the Princess insisted. “He is far too small and too gnome and too … well, just too everything I dislike. Plus, he has red hair. Really, father, the very suggestion!”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“And I could never marry into a strict hierarchy where honor and power are bestowed on people based on the accident of birth rather than on talent or dedication,” Nanoc protested. “When the peasants finally revolt, I’d just open the gates to let them in.”

The princess glared at the gnome. She had never been so insulted in her life.

“How dare you not want to marry me!” she demanded.

“You didn’t want to marry me, first,” Nanoc reminded her.

“That’s different! I—”

“Daughter! Think of the kingdom! If the gnome will not have my daughter then perhaps you, elf, would consider making her your wife?”

“Do you know, no,” Dren said politely but firmly. “No.”

“Ah. The lizardling, then?”

“Dad!” the princess shouted at her father. “Stop trying to marry me off! I have my own… you know what, it doesn’t matter! I’m leaving! And I’m taking Toirtap with me!”

The princess gestured at the nearest guards to drag the captain out of the throne room, then stormed off after them.

“And I’m also a ‘no’ for marriage,” Rotcel ‘Loc added, unnecessarily. “You agreed our reward would be crowns, jewels, gold. Lots of them. That’s what I want. Hand them over.”

“Wait!” the king said again, in a final desperate attempt to save his treasure. “I have one last offer. What about…. slaves, gnome?”

“Slaves?” Nanoc said, shocked.

“Slaves,” Dren said, writing this down in his journal.

“Slaves,” Rotec ‘Loc said, shaking her head. Slaves were not shiny.

“Slaves,” the king replied, nodding. “My soldiers have rounded up several of the weaker trolls that fled the fortress. Take them and sell them, the reward is all yours.”

Slaves were not uncommon in Static Empire where Nanoc had lived. Every hierarchy needs a lowest level, a foundation of people who work hard for the system but get no benefit from it. Slavery was organized, slavery was ordered.

“Their value is beyond mere gold,” the king said, “I—"

He stopped when he saw the expression on Nanoc’s face. A storm was brewing inside the gnome. Rotcel ‘Loc shook her head and took several steps back to escape. Dren placed a hand on the gnome’s arm, but Nanoc shrugged it aside.

“No slaves,” he said softly. “Not today, not ever. Let them go.”

The banana of mayhem, which had been silent so far, rattled in agreement. Chaos was the god of freedom, of rebellion, of breaking chains. Freedom was fun, slavery was suffering and evil. It was not to be tolerated.

“But they’re trolls!”

“Even so,” Nanoc said. “Let them go!”

“Let them… let them go, gnome? Do you know how much a troll slave is worth? You could be rich!”

“Who cares?” Nanoc said.

Dren nodded in agreement, and even Rotcel ‘Loc did not argue. The lizardling knew that to find a treasure was honest work – even if the treasure’s previous owner disagreed – but to take a slave was a terrible business.

“As my reward, I demand you let the trolls go,” Nanoc said. “The troll king has been defeated and the surviving trolls pose no real risk. Let them free, and perhaps they will learn to be better creatures.”

“They won’t,” Rotcel ‘Loc said, quite correctly.

“They might be.”

“Do you know, I’m surprised any escaped at all,” Dren said, frowning. “I was sure Nanoc’s fire elemental got them all.

“That was you? That fire elemental is burning through half my kingdom!” the king shouted. “How dare you release such a dangerous thing in my land!”

“Yeah, well, trolls are weak against fire. Everyone knows that.”

The king had been growing increasingly red in the face during Nanoc’s speech. “So are farmers! And houses! And—and—” he shouted, so angry that he spluttered to a stop. “No, this cannot be allowed to stand! You insult my daughter, you demand my own crown, you burn the land! Guards! Throw these ghastly people out! They will have no reward from me!”

“How convenient for you,” Rotcel ‘Loc sighed, but Nanoc was far more excited.

“Yeah!” Nanoc shouted eagerly. “Come on, throw me out!”

With the trolls gone, a lot of the king’s guards had returned to his service. There was a clatter of armor as guards raced into the room. They were not unexpected: Dren dropped a glass vial on the floor, and thick smoke filled the air, obscuring everything. Rotcel ‘Loc was already walking to the door to leave. She stepped aside as a dozen gold-plated guards rushed int the room, then walked into the corridor outside the throne room. She winced at the sound of furniture breaking, pulled a pack of cards from her pocket, and shuffled it absent-mindedly. A moment later, one of the guards flew out the door and rolled across the ground. It was one of the three guards recruited by Captain Toirtap that had fled from the bandits.

“Hello again,” Rotcel ‘Loc said. “Tell me, does the king have a treasure room or something?”

The guard groaned. Rotcel sighed, kicked him gently in the head until he passed out, and then stole everything of worth he had. It was not much.

Flames burst from the throne room’s doorway, scorching the roof and walls. There was more shouting, a furious yell, several comical twangs, and the familiar sharp sounds of metal striking metal. A dozen new guards raced up the corridor, ignoring her in their haste to get to the king. She tripped the last one, who fell on the one before him, who fell forward, causing a wave of guards to stumble into the throne room with a clatter. A few moments later, there came a final loud bang! and the king’s crown rolled out into the corridor, wobbling uncertainly until it hit Rotcel ‘Loc’s foot.

She picked it up.

“Well,” she said, placing it inside her robe. “That will do, I suppose.”