Trade in the Old for the New

By Richard Temple

Julius Scaramonger sat in the grounds of a somewhat rundown house, washing clothes. Once the most successful and prosperous trader in the realm of Knightmare, he was now reduced to working as a servant for the local nobility, the very people with whom, at one point in his life, he had rubbed shoulders and socialised. Now he was washing their dirty clothes. If that wasn’t humiliating enough, he had to share a house with, work with, eat with, and even breathe the same air as the most repulsive creature he had ever laid eyes on.

  “Julius!” came a shrill cry from inside the house. “Hurry up with that washing. Count Brinkator wants his shirts ready for a quarter to two!”

 “Yes, Mrs. Grimwold,” Julius replied through clenched teeth.

God, but he hated that old hag and her mangy two-headed mutt, almost as much as he hated the Powers that Be. In his mind, it was their fault that he had been reduced to washing clothes. If Ah Wok could openly serve the Powers that Be, why could he himself not do business with Lord Fear and the Opposition? Anyway, the Powers that Be were hypocrites, having used his services as a trader when it suited them. As soon as Ah Wok turned up, though, Julius reflected bitterly, he himself became public enemy number one and was driven out of business!

  “I’ll get even with Treguard and the Powers that Be one of these days, you just see if I don’t!” Scaramonger growled.

Julius was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t hear the garden gate creak open, or the footsteps of the visitor as they approached him.

  “’Allo, Scaramonger. My, my, but the Merchant Prince has lost his crown, it seems.”

Julius recognised the gruff, harsh voice instantly, and turned around to come face to face with Skarkill.

  “What are you doing here?” Julius demanded

  “Looking for you,” Skarkill leered. “His Lordship wants a word with you.”

Julius’s spirits rose, but then he suddenly felt apprehensive.

  “And, er, to what do I owe this unexpected honour?” Julius asked suspiciously.

  “You ain’t in trouble, Scaramonger. His Lordship has a job for you.”

 “Oh, well, then you can tell his Lordship, my dear Goblin Master, that …”

  “You can tell him that Julius is too busy with his washing!” interrupted a shrill cry from the cottage. “Now would you be so kind as to CLEAR OFF!”

Mrs. Grimwold’s hunched figure was standing in the doorway of the cottage. The sight of the revolting old hag made even Skarkill’s stomach churn with disgust. How that ogre stands the sight of her every day, I do not know, he thought to himself. Skarkill then pulled himself together. The old witch was standing in the way of Opposition business, and she was unarmed. He shouldn’t have any bother dealing with her.

  “Now look here, you old hag,” he began, trying to sound as threatening as possible, and brandishing his axe before him. “I’m a servant of the Opposition, and you are standing in the way of Opposition business, so unless you want to get turned into goblin fodder, you’d better get out of my way. Now, I’m taking Julius to Marblehead. Any objections?”

Mrs Grimwold looked at the axe and at the Goblin Master, and then screeched at the top of her voice: “FESTUS!”

From within the house came a deep, evil growl, and before Skarkill could react, Festus, the two-headed Hellhound, came bounding out of the doorway and leapt at the terrified Goblin Master. But Skarkill was not about to hang around. He ran for his life, forgetting all about Julius, and about Lord Fear’s plan. Mrs. Grimwold cackled to herself, then she rounded on Julius.

  “Get back to work at once!” the witch ordered.

  “Yes, Mrs. Grimwold,” Scaramonger answered miserably, and he returned to his work.

Meanwhile, at the Dirty Duck Inn, Shadow Voice was conducting a business meeting with a huge, hulking Atlantian goon.

  “So, do we have a deal?” Shadow Voice asked the huge ruffian, from his perch in a dimly lit corner of the bar. “If you kill the trader Julius Scaramonger, or Honesty Bartram, or both of them if possible, and make it look like a robbery gone wrong, then the Lady Maldame, Queen of the Great Mire, will reward you handsomely.”

The huge thug whom Shadow Voice addressed was dressed in dirty leather trousers and a stained short-sleeved shirt with red rings around it. He stood just short of seven foot tall, and had dirty blond hair, a thick jaw, a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times, and a gaudy scar over his left eye. His eyes were a deep green, like the eyes of all Atlantians. This hulking behemoth of a man was not the brightest spark, but he was one of the strongest and most brutal warriors around. One local story claimed that he had once ripped apart two hobgoblins with his bare hands. The Atlantian’s whole body was basically muscle, and as a result he was very difficult to hurt in any way. The Atlantian looked at Shadow Voice and drank his ale, whilst mulling over the proposition. At last, the brutish thug downed the remainder of his ale in one gulp and laughed harshly.

  “HA, HA!” he boomed. “Mr. Shadow Voice, we have a deal. Killing these two traders will be like squashing puny bugs under my foot!”

Shadow Voice grinned sinisterly, although the Atlantian could not see this due to the gloomy darkness in which Shadow Voice was always enshrouded.

  “Excellent, my friend, excellent!” Shadow Voice approved. “You will be well rewarded for your efforts, I assure you. However…” Here his tone of voice changed, becoming cold and harsh. “Fail us, and Queen Maldame will make your green lifeblood bubble and boil within your veins!”

The Atlantian became slightly uncomfortable, for though he was not very bright, he knew better than to cross Maldame.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Shadow Voice,” the assassin returned. “The Atlantian is on the job.”

Shadow Voice nodded, then he got up and left the inn. The Atlantian ordered another three ales, all of which he downed in minutes. He threw some coins onto the bar and left, heading into the forest, towards Mrs. Grimwold’s cottage. Meanwhile, Skarkill was returning to the very same washhouse, bringing with him a new plan to capture Julius Scaramonger.

So, readers, the plot thickens. With Shadow Voice intent on carrying out Maldame’s orders to destroy Julius Scaramonger and Honesty Bartram, and Skarkill intent on carrying out Lord Fear’s orders to take Scaramonger back to Marblehead, and Mrs. Grimwold intent on getting Count Brinkator’s washing done, someone is going to be sorely disappointed. Do you want to discover who that someone will be? Then read the fourth thrilling installmet of this story in the next issue, and you might just find out.