Chapter 452: Royal Acknowledgement

Krogmar scratched his back.Today was a good day.

He’d cleaned the vault door. And despite everything that happened, it remained clean. 

That was excellent. Guarding the vault door was his main responsibility. But it certainly wasn’t his only one. Being a guard was a public facing job, and that meant he prided himself on ensuring his station remained as presentable as possible. 

After all, he not only represented his employer, but also his fellow trolls.

The moment anyone thought they were anything but immaculate in their housekeeping duties, it would spell the end of their tenure as the premier door guards of the continent. And he really didn’t want that to happen.

Krogmar liked it here.

It was considerably better than his last employment. 

He’d been significantly oversold on the nature of that particular role. While it’d been a nice castle with a serviceable vault, he’d been relegated to guarding a wooden door. It was not only a waste of his professional skills, but it was also tantamount to a breach of contract.

Sadly, it wasn’t entirely a breach of contract–which was why Krogmar was very grateful when that tiny human princess with a sword decided to buy him out.

This was the finest vault he’d ever guarded. 

Not only was it aesthetically pleasing, but it was very sturdy and quite complex. It was enchanted, warded and contained a myriad of intricate mechanisms for making life very difficult for thieves. It would take an exceptional lockpicker to find a way through. And also a very prepared one.

None of those recently trying to invite themselves into the vault fell under that category.

Krogmar poked at his armour.

The next time a troll caravan stopped by the Royal Villa, he’d need to inquire about improvements. Although he was broadly immune to most magical effects, there was clearly work to be done. 

Despite the fact that one of the humans had clearly thrown a vial of magical frost at him out of panic, it succeeded in immobilising him for several seconds. And while there was no risk of harm using any weapon they had, it would have been terrible if they’d decided to scratch the vault door. 

If that had occurred, he’d have stared glumly into the corner for days on end.

Instead, he was able to stand proudly, polishing the vault door until it was shiny enough to reflect his nod … and also the smile of one of the few people whose invitations he didn’t need to see.

After all, he was Krogmar’s employer.

Peeking into the guard chamber, the King of Tirea appeared more like a visitor than the owner of the vault. But unlike most visitors, he didn’t gulp at seeing a troll. 

He wore a smile instead–as well as a velvet surcoat, a ceremonial cloak and a golden crown.

Krogmar was mildly surprised. 

It was rare to see the king wearing working attire. 

That wasn’t to suggest Krogmar never saw him working, of course. On the contrary, he often saw the king tip-toeing between the library and his private study, stacks of poetry books in his arms as he personally helped curate the shelves. 

However, whether he was assisting the librarians in the afternoon or in the very late hours of the night when he believed nobody was watching, he was more commonly seen in striped pyjamas.

Naturally, Krogmar had no complaints.

While it really wasn’t the type of uniform he expected a king to wear, he imagined that ruling a kingdom was a very difficult job. Given that it was something that didn’t come with breaks, there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to do it in as much comfort as he desired. 

The same went for admiring his own polished vault door.

“Good evening, monsieur,” said Krogmar, bowing as deep as his thick armour, muscles and hide allowed. “Welcome to the Royal Vault. I note this is an unscheduled visit. How may I assist?”

The king chuckled, his smile jovial as he approached.

“I believe you’ve assisted quite a fair amount already. I’m told there were intruders in the Royal Villa. A frightful group of burglars by the sounds of it.”

“Indeed, there were. I cannot confirm how many intruders were apprehended, but it is my understanding that they were unsuccessful in removing any items.”

“Through the hard work of all involved. Yourself included. It must have been quite a harrowing experience, needing to defend the vault against such scoundrels alone.”

“Not at all. I was able to subdue the group seeking access to the vault without complication. Doing so without troubling the monsieur’s knights is also a contractual obligation.”

“It is?” The king blinked. “That seems remarkably unfair. Did I propose that?”

“No, I did.”

“Oh. Because you’re a troll?”

“Yes. But also because it’s a stated requirement to legally advertise that I am a graduate of the Royal Ouzelia Blackguard Academy.”

“Goodness, that sounds quite impressive … and what is that?” 

Krogmar scratched his back. 

He was slightly disappointed. Not in the king, but in himself. 

That the Royal Ouzelia Blackguard Academy wasn’t known to the reigning monarch of a kingdom meant Tazroth was correct. He really needed to be less modest about his academic credentials.

“The Royal Ouzelia Blackguard Academy is the premier learning institution for henchmen, followers and hired help. Its alumni are distinguished for assuming roles of significant individual responsibility, often as the lead enforcers of villains, the muscle of evil adventuring parties and the door guards of tyrants. If I were to assume joint duty with the monsieur’s knights, I would be required to forfeit my association with the academy for the remaining duration of my employment.”

The king clicked his fingers.

“Aha! Now that rings a bell. My apologies, little of Ouzelia or its famed academic institutions ever has need to reach my ears. That land is quite far away, although I’d very much like to visit someday.”

“An excellent proposition. I believe the monsieur would enjoy Ouzelia greatly. There are surprisingly few differences between the Fabled Realm and the Kingdom of Tirea.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll need to ask the head steward to see what he thinks first. I can imagine he’ll utterly pale at the prospect. That’s a good enough reason to arrange a visit.”

“Should the head steward feel anxious, I would be delighted to offer my assurances. Few reigning monarchs suffer on their first formal visit. Most even choose to abscond.”

The king chuckled at the notion. 

“Most kings are less satisfied with their duties. As for me, I feel extremely fortunate–not least because of the dutifulness of my guards. I wished to drop by to offer my formal gratitude as well as to see if you were well. I trust you were unharmed?”

“The monsieur’s concern is most appreciated. I’m delighted to confirm I’m uninjured, in due part to the excellent craftsmanship of the princess.”

Krogmar lifted his mahogany club.

With just the barest squeeze of his gauntlet, a tiny spurt of molten flames erupted from the tip. The king admired it with shining eyes. A look only employers and trolls wore.

However, amidst the fatherly pride was a hint of sombreness. 

“... Yes, Clarise is truly exceptional at what she does. Her mind always seeks to lessen our burdens. Were it only that I could lessen hers as well.”

Krogmar stood a little straighter. He nodded in understanding. 

While he rarely disturbed the princess, the same could not be said of her explosions. The … experiments erupting from her observatory were a daily phenomenon. 

At least until recently.

These days, only the sound of summer’s advent could be heard. Yet far from enjoying the chirps of songbirds, all Krogmar could feel was concern.

“... Indeed, such thoughts are also shared. May I inquire as to the madame’s status?”

“Clarise is recovering,” said the king, the optimism clearer in his voice than the lines on his face. “I’m told that it’s an unusual cold that assails her.”

“That is most unfortunate. I sincerely hope she recovers soon.”

“Oh, I’m certain she will. Despite her frequent, well, collapses, she has far more stamina than the average princess. Nothing else would allow her to stay up so many consecutive nights.”

Krogmar nodded fast enough for his helmet to squeak. 

There was much he wished to discuss with the princess. Now that his club had been field tested, he had several ideas for improvements.

Not to the club. That was fine. But rather to his armour. If all of him could spew flames, then that’d make him at least 15% more efficient at shooing uninvited guests away.

Naturally, of course, he didn’t intend to take up the princess’s time without payment. 

“Once the madame recovers, I believe there are several forthcoming opportunities where she may demonstrate her ingenuity to great acclaim. Although it is not my place to suggest business opportunities, it is likely my peers would be interested in a number of her inventions. I myself would be delighted to vouch for her prowess.”

The king’s smile took on another layer of warmth.

“Oh? Is that an official seal of approval? If so, I’m afraid you’ve misplayed your hand. I might have to negotiate my hardest the next time a troll carriage comes along.”

“Negotiating is an expected part of trade. Trolls would be deeply wary if they believed the monsieur was not attempting to maximise margins. It would affect what they can offer.”

“In that case, I suppose I’ll really have to put on my best merchant’s hat. It’d be an awful shame if they withheld anything. I’ve yet to be disappointed with any purchase.”

“That is most pleasing to hear. Trolls take great pride in the quality and selection of our wares. It is also possible that medicinal items are available. If the madame is not yet recovered by the time the next carriage is due, I would advise querying about possible ointments.”

“I shall do that. And perhaps I’ll ask for something to help deter any future burglars as well–although I see nothing is likely to best you.”

The king stretched his arms. The universal sign language for an imminent departure.

“... Well, I suppose I’ll be returning to my work. I won’t disturb you any longer. Should there be any issues, don’t hesitate to let me know. Once again, I offer my appreciation for your steadfast defence of my home.” 

“The monsieur is most welcome.”

Krogmar offered a nod. 

Acknowledgement wasn’t needed, but it was well received nonetheless.

The king turned to leave–and so the Royal Villa’s only troll watched with a sense of satisfaction over a job well done, a vault door still immaculately polished and an employer smiling with content … and then he continued watching, his eyes slowly narrowing.

He scratched his back. He wrinkled his nose. He paused in thought.

A moment later–

Krogmar raised his club for the second time in one day.