Minor Villans Make My Day

From Chapter 13 of Northern Warriors. In the ruined Ravun castle, the troll warlord Armalut confronts the goblin lord Pintath. One of my finer displays of comic interaction, I think...


In the evening, Lord Pintath was sitting in the throne room, slouched in half-slumber in the abandoned throne, trying to forget that he had ever heard that Armalut was coming. His guards Ninkal and Huluk were dozing in the corner behind him, and he was feeling quite content to be alone otherwise. He twisted a half-empty jug of cider idly in his spidery hands, just beginning to think of going to bed, when he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. He quietly wished to himself that they were not headed to see him in the throne room as so often they were, but as ever such hope was in vain. What was even more unfortunate for him was that it was not some panicked sentry come to report rebellion in the streets of Ramalsk—which happened infrequently nowdays though it still happened as often as not—nor was it Lord Televokov come to interrupt his usual mindless stupor with some business of state—which Pintath did not miss in the least since his rival's capture by the fairies—but it was another nemisis come to ruin his otherwise perfectly quiet evening.

Lord Armalut did not barge through the door himself. Two thuggish trolls larger than Armalut himself were walking in front of him, clearing the traffic for their angry sovereign and his entourage. Armalut's face was visible between the hulking shoulders of his comrades, his shorter stature framed by no less menacing muscles. His grimacing face was an eerie sight in the brightly lit chamber, the scars from his humiliating encounter with Prince Dmitri still vivid even weeks later. Lord Pintath had learned over the years it was best to try and ignore such a pending confrontation, but tonight admittedly he was curious.

“Well, well, Lord Armalut at last, the dread warrior of Kamchatka. Tell me, how is the elf-hunting going?”

His stony grimace not even flinching, Armalut grabbed a loaded crossbow from one of the trolls behind him and fired a shot at the throne. Pintath ducked, but the impact still knocked the heavy chair off-balance.

"Elves!" Armalut hissed. "Do not speak to me of elves! Ever since the battle at Toornath
they have been wearing my forces thin! They have all but driven us from the southeast quarter."
“Well, haha, I'm sorry to hear that,” said Pintath. He truly was sorry, but he made it a point not
to show pity to people who were working under him. Pintath heard his guards stirring behind
him at the commotion. Armalut came up to the throne dias and stared Pintath in the eye.

 Pintath sat upright in his seat, trying to look somewhat like he was still in charge. "So what do you want?" scowled Pintath, annoyed.

 “Where is our plunder?” Armalut asked.

Pintath balked. “Er, I was aware of that already. Let's discuss your other problems first.”

"If you insist, goblin. Why aren't your forces helping me?" Armalut growled at him.

 "What? Haven't you been paying attention to what's going on up here?"

"To what?"

"I mean while you've been playing ring-around-the-rosies with the rebels, I've been having a heck of a time keeping the peace here in Ramalsk. Is that some kind of a picnic to you? The people are still balking at our every move. They don't want us in charge any more than the elves do. That's what's been keeping us busy up here, if you think you're entitled to any support."

"Well, that's a poor excuse!" Armalut growled. "Your men are slouching about the streets and villages looting and drinking while we're running our hides off! Do you honestly call yourself a commander?"

 "Call myself a commander? You keep getting beaten by the elves; that's your problem, not mine! If the Opposition is responsible for half your casualties in the past three weeks, deal with it. I have my own problems. I thought we had it in the terms of our agreement that you would look after your own people, huh? Our government is in debt! We can't support you, so don't ask us too!"

 Armalut looked ready to explode, but he restrained himself. "Well, can't you put your forces to better use than to steal food from helpless villagers instead of keeping the rebels from annihilating us?" the troll lord demanded.

Pintath swallowed and tried to come up with an excuse. “We hardly have enough plunder for ourselves, much less to supply you. Really, I'd love to help you, but there's another problem with this, er, situation. I can't send out my forces to keep the public peace without permission. I'm still in a bind unless Lord Televokov grants me the authority, which, er, he can't right now." Pintath attempted a nervous laugh.

To his surprise, Armalut gave a low chuckle in reply. “Well, Lord Pintath, then I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to send a courier to the fairy fortress Tammil to request such a grant of authority, wouldn't it?” Pintath laughed along with Armalut nervously, trying to play along, but he stopped when he remembered that it was a dangerous game to laugh along with an enemy. “I thought the triumvirate was disbanded.”

 “Disbanded? Not remotely. Me and Televokov have everything under control. We just haven't found a third partner yet, so he, er, hasn't seen fit to promote me. The point is, my good lord, that the triumvirate is still in power as long as Televokov is alive. His word is law. I can no more act without his supervision than you can, so I am afraid I cannot do anything for you.”

Pintath smiled in an attempt to appear as helpless as he was making himself out to be, but he figured that Armalut already disbelieved his feigned innocence, which he presumed correctly. “But why do you need Televokov's authority when, if I am correct, you have now seized total power? Why do you now sit upon the throne that your master so thoroughly despises?”

 Pintath stood up on the seat of the throne, affronted. “My master? That impudent fairy? I do whatever pleases me and my troops, not that snub-nosed, silver-haired--”

“Well, do it!” snarled Armalut, drawing his sword and brandishing it at the goblin's stomach. Pintath's guards put their spears at Armalut's chest, suddenly on the defensive.

Pintath decided it was best not to argue outright. “All right, then. Have it your way. I'll...see to it that Televokov is informed of your request for assistance—as well as your request for payment. Meanwhile, you make sure that the Opposition doesn't budge an inch until we go stomp 'em out. Does that sound like a plan?” Armalut growled, but he withdrew his sword and sheathed it. Pintath's guards withdrew their spears. “Good. Now get back out there while I compose a message to his lordship.”

 “No. We stay here.” Armalut and his trolls turned away and began to walk out of the throne room.

“What?”

 “We will stay here and rest before we go out and fight the rebels again. My spies say they will be resting for a time, too. Some of the elves are going to join the Opposition. What have your spies been up to, goblin?”

“What? But--”

Armalut did not bother to explain his statements further before his trolls closed the throne room doors behind them.

Pintath stared nervously at the doors for a few seconds after they left.

“Did you have to let him do that to ya, chief?” asked Ninkal.

“Let's show him who's boss,” said Huluk. “Slit their throats in their sleep.”

Pintath relaxed, then stood up and stretched. “Actually, I've had enough of bossing him around for one day. I'm going to bed.”

Ninkal and Huluk looked at each other.

“Make sure none of them try to make off with any of the valuables in the castle. Good night.” Pintath strode out of the throne room, thinking to himself that Armalut needed to pick on someone his own size, considering the troll was nearly three times as tall as the average goblin.