Skrakch had gotten used to risking his life, chasing after his obsession with a passion borne from desperation. If it increased his odds of being Chosen, he was willing to risk any odds that may be thrown his way. Still, just one look from the Albino Crown Prince awoke a feeling of terror that threatened to overwhelm him.

As his beady black eyes locked with the deep red Albino's, it took all his focus to resist the urge to simply crumble to the ground like a whimpering wreck. It didn’t help matters that the sheer amount of Mana that the White Iskrin exuded was enough to dwarf his own Core’s capacity a dozen times over.

Thankfully, their eyes locked for only a brief moment before the Albino turned away, disappointment flashing across his sleekly furred snout. The newcomer turned his attention back to the Ancient Patriarch and brought his beetle to land, dismounting it with grace.

“Our representatives within the Tomb Makers sent word that a rogue Iskrin has been causing issues amongst the general populace,” The Prince announced self-importantly, venom laced into every word.

“More interestingly though, was the fact that this rogue seems to have spent most of his time underground,” The Iskrin spoke in Common with a precise accent, each word enunciated carefully, designed to assert his authority. “Imagine my surprise when I learned the escapee was seeking refuge with one of our most trusted allies.”

Skrakch’s gaze flicked to Blazock. The old Goblin seemed unperturbed by the accusation. He let out a low rumble of a laugh as he stroked his long white beard.

“And you requested that I bring him to our yearly Tribute. Well, he’s here Princeling. So what do you intend to do?” The old coot leaned forward on his staff, grinning as he glared at the Albino.

“Oh don’t get your hopes up Blazock. There will be no altercation,” The Crown Prince replied. He snapped his fingers at one of the brown Ratlings. “No, instead I bring good tidings. As I mentioned, you are one of our most trusted allies. So, to honor that bond that has been forged over many years, I am willing to overlook the Tribute this year,” He smiled benignly. “In exchange for the runt of course,”

“Don’t take me for a fool Princeling,” Blazock replied evenly. “A brown Iskrin breaking free and you expect me to trade him in for a few scraps?” He scowled as he watched the Brown Iskrin offer a scroll to the Crown Prince. “You’re quick to remind me of our allegiance and yet you offer so little in return? You’ll need to sweeten the pot before you get your ten pounds of flesh.”

Skrakch’s fur bristled in anger. So this was Blazock’s plan all along? To use him as some kind of bargaining chip? He glared at the old Goblin’s back. No wonder he’d been so willing to teach him on the journey. He’d needed to keep him sweetened for the betrayal!

“I suspected that might be your answer,” The Albino smiled, showing off two long fore-fangs as he slowly unfurled the scroll. “I had an alternative drafted up for this eventuality. In exchange for the Brown Iskrin, we’re prepared to alter our alliance. For the next decade, your kind will have free reign over the Sewers and the Tribute will be cut entirely for that duration.”

As he watched Blazock rub his beard in contemplation, Skrakch realized that it was time for him to go. He was nobody’s bargaining chip. He remembered little of his time in the Depths but there wasn’t a chance in Nine Hells that he would go back there.

Backing up slowly so as not to draw attention to himself, the Ratling only managed a few steps before he felt something jab into his back. Slowly turning his head, he looked into Quickfinger’s muddy eyes, which lit up with eagerness as he poked his spear into his back.

So it appeared they weren’t guards for the Tribute. The odds of him getting out unharmed were dwindling rapidly. He turned back towards Blazock. His Master had promised him safety so surely there was something more to this?

He felt the old Goblin watching him from the corner of his eye. Blazock shook his head.

“I’ll admit, your offer is a tempting one. But I’m curious, what would you do with the runt? As he is, he’s hardly a threat to your beloved Empress nor your Empire.”

The Crown Prince inclined his head in agreement before stroking his whiskers.

“Be that as it may, something needs to be done. We cannot just let one of our own wander the city streets with impunity. That is how it always has been and always will be. He will be dealt with swiftly and, more importantly, silently. I don’t intend to let Mother know at all. All the servants who come into contact with him shall be culled and our lives shall continue onwards in peace.”

“Tempting…” Blazock paused. “Your offer is truly tempting…”

Skrakch watched as the Ancient Patriarch, his Master, continued to stroke his beard. To the gathered audience, he appeared to be genuinely considering the proposal. Skrakch himself had even been fooled right up until he’d seen the twitch of his Master’s fingers from behind the wiry hairs of his silver beard. An old Goblin hand signal that meant ‘trust me.’

So Blazock had a plan. Skrakch wasn’t surprised, and definitely hadn't been worried. What he couldn’t work out was the reasoning behind this facade. If Blazock never intended to give him up, why bring him in the first place? Surely the risk of it going wrong was too high?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I’m afraid I am going to decline,” Blazock continued. “The Rotten One is my core disciple. None of my sons or daughters have displayed the aptitude he has. So I shall be keeping him.”

As the old Goblin finished making his stance clear, both he and the Crown Prince let their Mana flow into the air around them once more. Just the small trickle of their combined strengths rippling outwards was enough to bring most of the Goblins and Brown Iskrin to their knees. As the two of them stared each other down, the Sewer walls began to rumble and crack as the ambient Mana threatened to tear the tunnel asunder.

One more the feeling of the weight of the raw Mana pressing down upon his flesh, Skrakch could only crumple to the ground, gasping. Feeling his knees rip from contact with the stone floor, he struggled to keep his head up and his eyes open. He barely managed to keep the Albino Iskrin in his line of sight. He could see him judging his foe. It looked like the lines of allegiance between the two factions were slowly being severed.

“Is that wise Blazock?” The Prince asked calmly, “My Mother has already defeated you once before. What would there be to stop the Empress from coming back and finishing the job? You do realize, you old fool, that by defying me here today, you are serving your precious village with a death sentence? The Iskrin have merely tolerated your kind but not for much longer!”

“I don’t see your Mother anywhere little rat, Just an upstart Chosen who thinks he can meddle where he isn’t wanted” Blazock responded before calmly drawing two Runes in the air.

Even from where he was being forced to kneel, Skrakch could tell the two Runes were Slowfall and Gravity. But, as the two activated, they seemed to slot together perfectly, forming two halves of a distinctly more powerful spell.

Mana swelled around Blazock’s feet for a moment before the Ancient Patriarch was lifted from the ground in a swirl of energy. Floating through the air with an almost bored look on his face, he flew rapidly closer to his foe. The old Goblin casually waved his hand as five Runes flitted into existence as one.

While Skrakch could barely parse four of these Runes, the Ratling did understand the one that represented ‘Slow’. Although it had been modified in some way that he couldn’t quite work out. Before he had a chance to take the others in, the Runes burst as the spell took effect.

With an impressive swell of power, far beyond what Skrakch had ever seen, he was surprised to see that nothing appeared to have happened. In fact, nothing at all was happening, as he realized that he was completely unable to move. The Goblins around him were frozen too, as were the Brown Irskin atop their beetle mounts. It was like time itself had come to a stop, freezing everyone in the moment.

Everyone except for Blazock.

The Ancient Patriarch cackled, clearly reveling in his display of power. Two quick snaps of his fingers summoned over a dozen Runes, combining seemingly effortlessly into three different spells which were prompted activated.

With a lurch, Skrakch could feel his body regaining control of itself. It was just in time to see Blazock’s new spells surge towards the Crown Prince. A jet of flame, conjured from nothing, swirled around a hunk of debris as they were thrown almost haphazardly towards their intended target.

Watching the incoming attack rapidly approaching him, the Albino Ratling didn’t seem at all alarmed. He didn’t even bother to raise a paw towards the incoming impacts. As the spells came within a hair’s distance of hitting him, the Crown Prince learned towards them and opened his jaw wide, almost as if he was getting ready to bite into the spells…

Consume…

As the spells collided with the Crown Prince, they seemed to be funneled downwards into his now gaping maw, the spells being absorbed into his very being. Once Blazock’s spells had completely vanished, the Ratling grinned widely before suddenly disappearing.

At least that’s what appeared to happen. Skrakch quickly realized that the Prince had simply moved too quickly for his eyes to follow. He reappeared within touching distance of Blazock. Rearing back his left claw, the Albino brought its arm down in a devastating chop.

Frowning slightly at the physical attack, Blazock casually spun to the side and effortlessly dodged, before he snapped his gnarled fingers once again. As six Runes lit up behind him, the elderly Goblin lifted one arm and lazily swept his hand towards his foe as the Runes burst. Even with his slow movements, Blazock managed to just barely touch the Albino Iskrin’s right arm before the Crown Prince dodged away and safely landed on the back of his beetle mount.

The Prince sneered and tensed for a moment, obviously preparing to leap towards Blazock for another attack. Suddenly, a look of panic flickered across his face. Abruptly canceling the flow of Mana, the Albino snarled.

“Don’t be so hasty Blazock, if you were to kill me, the Empress would be forced to take action”

Blazock calmly lowered himself back to the Sewer floor. He idly ran his fingers through his beard as his own Mana flowed back into his Core and settled there.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Blazock tapped his chin in a mocking display of consideration. “Your Mother does have a bit of a temper, Little Rat. But maybe she’d thank me for teaching her whelp a proper lesson.”

Hissing in pain, the Albino suddenly pulled his robe aside to expose his chest. As Skrakch got to his feet, it was clear why the Crown Prince was so enraged. Whatever spell Blazock had woven was transforming the Prince’s white-furred chest into stone. Worse yet, the rate of transformation seemed to be getting faster. His entire left arm and most of his chest were already petrified.

“Oh, don’t worry Princeling,” Blazock continued conversationally. “I made sure to use a non-lethal spell for you. Once your servants drag you back to the Depths I’m sure your Mother will find someone to break the curse,” He grinned cheekily as he continued to watch the spell starting to take over the Ratling’s face, whose visage was twisted with a mixture of horror and rage.

“How dare you! You filthy Goblin! Do you think that this transgression will go unanswered? You’d best strike me down now so I will return with the full might of the Sunken Empire-”

The Ratling’s words were cut off as the spell began to work its way across his jaw and lips, causing them to lock up. He waved frantically to the Brown Iskrin standing around him with his remaining free arm.

“Return me…safely….nearest Guard…post…do…not fail…”

The Crown Prince was cut off by the petrification spell. He had finally been turned fully to stone, posed atop his beetle mount.

As the Brown Iskrin burst into a sudden flurry of movement to get their Crown Prince away safely, Blazock turned towards the wide-eyed pack of Goblins and the equally shocked Skrakch.

“Well, I must say that went better than expected. Looks like we’re getting to keep this year’s Tribute after all!”