With our fifth bond secured and our command structure complete, the logistical requirements of maintaining our growing monster army have become my primary focus. The agricultural initiatives in the swamp have proven remarkably effective, with Morkath's young trolls demonstrating an unexpected talent for cultivation.
"Razorfish breeding exceeds projections," Nerk reports during our morning council, consulting a surprisingly detailed ledger maintained by his evolved hobgoblins. "Current harvest provides sufficient protein for orc forces with fifteen percent surplus."
"The mushroom fields yield similarly impressive results," Morrigan adds. "Thirty-seven varieties now under cultivation, including twelve with combat-enhancing properties."
I nod, pleased with our progress. "And the rice paddies?"
"First full harvest begins tomorrow," Morkath confirms, his root system pulsing as he communes with the young troll cultivators. "Yield appears twenty percent higher than anticipated. Storage facilities prepared accordingly."
With our food security seemingly well-established, I can turn to my next priority, expansion.
"Nerk, Gorthal," I say, looking at the evolved goblin king and orc blood-priest. "I think it's time we increased our numbers. Nerk, the goblin tribes to the east of our territory have been watching our development. I want you to take two hundred of your evolved hobgoblins and extend formal invitations to join us."
There is also a human kingdom to our East, but they seem pre-occupied with their own issues. As long as Nerk is careful he’ll be able to go through their territory as he pleases.
The goblin king nods, his tactical mind already processing the assignment. "Optimal approach. Eastern tribes historically isolated, hunted by humans. Will respond well to demonstration of evolution benefits rather than force."
"Exactly," I agree. "Show them what service to the Monster Lord offers, not subjugation, but advancement."
I turn to Gorthal, whose metallic skin patterns catch the morning light streaming through the command tent's opening. "And you, I want heading west to the mountain foothills. The orc tribes there have been fighting a losing battle against human expansion for generations. Offer them an alternative."
The evolved blood-priest's ritual scars pulse with anticipation. "Many tribes already hear rumors of blood-priest who serves Monster Lord. Who carries fragment-weapon and evolves beyond ordinary orc limitations. Some will resist, clinging to old ways. Others will embrace new path."
"Don't force anyone," I emphasize. "Those who join willingly receive the benefits of our bond network. Those who prefer independence, we respect that choice."
Gorthal nods, understanding my approach. "Will prepare blood-warriors for demonstration rituals. Show visible evidence of evolution advantages."
"How many new recruits do you think we can reasonably integrate?" I ask, considering our resources.
Nerk calculates quickly. "Eastern goblin tribes number approximately two thousand warriors across seven major caves. Conservatively estimate sixty percent acceptance rate. Approximately twelve hundred new goblin troops."
"Western orc territories more fragmented," Gorthal adds. "Fifteen to twenty smaller tribes, some as few as thirty warriors, others up to two hundred. Total potential between fifteen hundred and two thousand. Expect forty to fifty percent acceptance initially. More will come once word spreads of first evolutions."
I whistle softly at these numbers. "That would nearly double our current forces."
"Require increased infrastructure," Nerk notes practically. "More permanent settlements, training facilities, expanded food production."
"Worth it," Gorthal counters. "Army reaches critical mass with expansion. Becomes undeniable regional power rather than unusual monster confederation."
He's not wrong. With Crystallis established as our fifth lieutenant, the command structure is complete, but raw numbers still matter in this world of competing powers.
"Make your preparations," I decide. "Depart within three days. I want both of you back within two weeks, hopefully with substantial reinforcements."
As they acknowledge their assignments, Morrigan approaches with news of her own. "My aerial scouts report unusual activity at our southern borders. A large caravan approaching under white banners. Appears to be a diplomatic mission from the Merchant Confederation."
This is unexpected but not entirely surprising. Our growing power and territorial expansion would naturally draw attention from established neighbors.
"How large?" I ask.
"Twenty wagons, perhaps eighty individuals. Guards wearing Confederation livery, several ornate carriages suggesting dignitaries of significant rank."
"Interesting timing," I muse. "With our food situation stabilized and recruitment missions preparing to depart, we can actually host visitors properly now."
"Shall I prepare appropriate reception?" Morrigan asks.
"Yes," I decide. "Let's receive them with proper formality. Not excessive display, but enough to demonstrate we're an organized power, not just monsters in a swamp."
As Morrigan departs to oversee preparations, I can't help feeling a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Formal diplomacy with another faction huh? Like I didn’t feel awkward enough with the elves.
Just a regular guy playing at being a diplomatic monster overlord. What could possibly go wrong?
---
Sabine Vortrax, Senior Envoy of the Merchant Confederation
The stench hits me first, that inevitable mix of stagnant water, rotting vegetation, and who knows what else that defines all swamplands. I press a perfumed handkerchief to my nose as our caravan advances along what appears to be a recently constructed road. Despite the unpleasant surroundings, I must admit the engineering is impressive. Raised wooden walkways reinforced with some kind of resin, drainage channels cut with mathematical precision, even stone markers at regular intervals.
Not what I expected from monsters.
"Are you certain this is wise, Envoy Vortrax?" my assistant Julian asks nervously, eyeing the massive trolls that have appeared to escort our caravan. "The Council's intelligence on this 'Monster Lord' is fragmentary at best."
"Which is precisely why we're here," I remind him, tucking away my handkerchief and straightening my crimson diplomatic robes. The Merchant Confederation doesn't survive for three centuries by ignoring emerging powers on its borders.
The escort trolls are disturbing to observe up close. Not merely because of their imposing size, some standing nearly ten feet tall, but because of their unexpected organization. They move with purpose, maintaining formation around our caravan, communicating through what appears to be a sophisticated system of hand signals. Several wear crude but effective armor bearing the same insignia, a stylized claw grasping what might be a fragment of some kind.
As we progress deeper into swamp territory, I'm struck by the evidence of infrastructure development. Cultivation fields stretch across carefully maintained plots, with smaller trolls and goblins working in organized shifts. Fishing operations extract what must be those fearsome razorfish from deeper pools, the harvested creatures immediately processed in nearby stations. Multiple settlements appear connected by additional raised walkways, with monster traffic flowing in orderly patterns between them.
"This is... unexpected," Julian murmurs, making notes in his ledger. "The intelligence reports mentioned a monster army, not a functioning society."
"The distinction may be academic," I reply, my merchant's mind already calculating the economic implications. "But note the rice paddies to our left. And those appear to be mushroom cultivation chambers built into those tree trunks."
"Self-sufficient food production," Julian realizes, his eyebrows rising. "They're not merely raiding for supplies."
"Which means they're establishing permanent territorial presence," I conclude. "Not a temporary monster confederation that will collapse when resources are depleted."
Our analysis is interrupted as we round a bend and behold what must be the Monster Lord's central encampment. Unlike the primitive hovels one might expect, we discover a surprisingly sophisticated arrangement of structures. Some built into living trees, others constructed on raised platforms, all connected by an intricate network of bridges and walkways. At the center stands what can only be described as a proper hall, an impressive building crafted from living wood somehow encouraged to grow into architectural forms.
More concerning than the unexpected development is the disciplined monster army arrayed to receive us. Hundreds of evolved hobgoblins stand in perfect formation, their armor matching and maintained. Orcs with metallic skin patterns form an honor guard leading to the central hall. Hagravens, not the scraggly creatures of legend but evolved forms radiating magical power, perch on elevated platforms, watching our arrival with unsettling intelligence.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
And most shocking of all, a crystalline dragon rests atop the central hall, its scales refracting sunlight in dazzling patterns across the assembled forces.
"By the Nine Markets," Julian whispers, his scholarly composure finally cracking. "That's a crystal drake. They've somehow tamed a crystal drake."
"Not tamed," I correct, noticing the way the other monsters defer to the dragon. "Allied with. Perhaps even subordinated to. Note how the drake watches the proceedings, that's an officer observing a diplomatic reception, not a beast on display."
Our caravan halts at a designated area clearly prepared for our arrival. As senior envoy, it falls to me to make the first move. I descend from my carriage, Julian following close behind, and approach the welcoming party arranged before the central hall.
Five figures await us, four monsters of clearly unusual power surrounding a human male. This must be the Monster Lord himself, though there's nothing particularly impressive about his appearance. Average height, ordinary features, wearing practical leather armor with strange glowing patterns visible on his exposed skin. Only the crystal pendant hanging at his chest suggests anything unusual.
Yet the monsters that surround him, these are another matter entirely. The evolved hobgoblin king stands nearly seven feet tall, his natural armor featuring serrated ridges that gleam like metal. Beside him, an orc blood-priest whose skin bears actual metallic patterns and whose ritual scars pulse with visible energy. Next comes the most disturbing of the group, a troll whose lower body isn't legs but a root system that connects directly with the ground, bark-like skin hosting a variety of living plants.
The fourth is hardest to classify, clearly evolved from a hagraven, but transformed so dramatically she barely resembles her original species. Towering and powerful, with an aura of magical energy that I can physically perceive despite my lack of arcane training.
I square my shoulders and approach, keeping my expression composed despite my internal surprise. Twenty years of diplomatic service to the Confederation has taught me to never reveal my thoughts during initial meetings.
"Greetings, Monster Lord," I begin formally. "I am Sabine Vortrax, Senior Envoy of the Merchant Confederation. I bring official recognition and diplomatic communication from the Council of Twelve."
The human studies me with unexpected directness. No flowery response, no attempted intimidation, just a straightforward nod. "Welcome to our territory, Envoy Vortrax. I'm John, the Monster Lord." He gestures to his companions. "My lieutenants: Nerk, King of Goblins; Gorthal, High Blood-Priest; Morkath, Lord of Blackmire; and Morrigan, First of the Evolved Hagravens. My fifth lieutenant, Crystallis, maintains watch from above."
The crystal drake atop the hall inclines her head slightly in acknowledgment. The gesture is so deliberate, so clearly intelligent, that I momentarily lose my carefully practiced composure.
"You've established an impressive settlement," I manage, recovering quickly. "The Confederation has watched your development with great interest."
"You mean concern," the Monster Lord translates bluntly.
I allow myself a small smile. Directness can be refreshing after the endless circular conversations of Confederation politics. "Interest and concern aren't mutually exclusive, Monster Lord. Emerging powers naturally attract both."
"Fair enough," he acknowledges. "And what does the Merchant Confederation want with us? I assume you didn't bring twenty wagons just to say hello."
The evolved hagraven, Morrigan, steps forward slightly, her presence somehow both monstrous and disturbingly regal. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion inside, away from the afternoon sun. We've prepared appropriate refreshments for our guests."
Her diplomatic awareness catches me off guard. This is no ordinary monster, her intelligence and social perception rival our most experienced human diplomats.
"That would be most welcome," I agree, gesturing for Julian to follow with his documentation case.
The interior of the central hall proves as surprising as everything else about this unusual domain. Living wood forms elegant arches overhead, while surprisingly comfortable furniture crafted from various swamp materials creates functional receiving areas. A large table dominates the center, already set with refreshments that appear suspiciously civilized, drinks in proper goblets, food on carved wooden platters, even what might be napkins folded beside each setting.
As we take our seats, I finally broach the true purpose of our visit. "The Confederation Council has authorized me to discuss formalization of borders, trade possibilities, and mutual security arrangements with your... government."
The Monster Lord tilts his head slightly. "You were going to say 'horde' or 'army,' weren't you?"
I maintain my diplomatic expression. "I admit our intelligence had classified your organization primarily as a military force. Recent observations suggest something more complex."
"We're both," he says simply. "A monster army, yes, but also a developing society with territorial ambitions, agricultural production, and now, apparently, diplomatic relations."
The goblin king, Nerk, leans forward. "Confederation primarily interested in stabilizing borders, establishing predictable trade conditions, ensuring caravan routes remain secure."
His assessment is unnervingly accurate. These evolved monsters perceive our motivations with disturbing clarity.
"The River Road that runs along your western territory is indeed one of our most valuable trade routes," I acknowledge. "Recent expansion of your domain has created some... uncertainty among our merchant caravens."
"You want guarantees we won't raid your trading caravans," the Monster Lord translates again. "And probably exclusive trading rights with our territory."
"Confederation prefers formalized relationships," I correct smoothly. "Predictable conditions benefit all parties. Your growing territory produces resources of potential value to our markets, razorfish, swamp rice, medicinal mushrooms, certain mineral resources from your northern mines. In exchange, the Confederation can provide manufactured goods, specialized tools, luxury items, information networks."
The hagraven Morrigan studies me with those unsettling eyes. "The Confederation also seeks buffer between its territories and potential threats from the north and east. Monster Lord's domain provides convenient insulation against both Malachar's undead forces and potential aggression from the increasingly unstable kingdoms to the east."
Again, that disturbing political insight. These creatures understand regional geopolitics far better than they should.
"Strategic mutual interests often align with economic ones," I acknowledge carefully. "The Confederation naturally considers all aspects of potential relationships."
The Monster Lord exchanges glances with his lieutenants before responding. "We're interested in establishing formal relations with the Confederation. Stable borders, guaranteed passage for trading caravans through designated routes, potential exchange of goods. But we have conditions."
"As does the Confederation," I reply, signaling Julian to open his documentation case. "Perhaps we should discuss specifics."
What follows is four hours of the most unusual diplomatic negotiation of my career. The Monster Lord himself proves surprisingly reasonable, focused primarily on recognition of his territorial claims and fair valuation of unique resources his domain can provide. His lieutenants, however, demonstrate specialized expertise that repeatedly catches me off guard.
The goblin king Nerk possesses a tactical understanding of regional trade routes that rivals our own cartographers, identifying vulnerabilities and opportunities with precision that suggests extensive intelligence gathering. The blood-priest Gorthal displays uncommon knowledge of metallurgical processes, particularly regarding the strange ore they've begun mining in the northern mountains. The troll lord Morkath demonstrates sophisticated understanding of sustainable resource harvesting that would impress our agricultural ministerial experts.
But it's the hagraven Morrigan who proves most disconcerting. Her grasp of diplomatic nuance, her ability to identify subtle implications in proposed language, her capacity to suggest compromise positions that protect her lord's interests while advancing negotiations, these skills shouldn't exist in a creature evolved from what was essentially a swamp witch. She negotiates like an elven ambassador with centuries of experience, not a monster bound to a human lord through magical means.
By evening, we've established the framework of a formal agreement. The Monster Lord's territory receives official recognition from the Confederation, with clearly delineated borders. Three official trade routes through the domain are established, with guaranteed safe passage for properly registered caravans. The Confederation receives exclusive first-purchase rights on certain unique resources, particularly the medicinal mushrooms and mineral deposits our alchemists are already eager to study.
In exchange, the Monster Lord gains access to Confederation markets, technical knowledge regarding infrastructure development, and most importantly, legitimacy on the regional political stage. No longer merely a motley collection of monsters, but a recognized power with formal diplomatic relations.
As we prepare to depart for our overnight camp, the Monster Lord has provided a suitable location just within his territory, I find myself reassessing everything I thought I knew about this unusual development on our borders.
"Your negotiations skills are impressive," I tell the Monster Lord as he walks me back to my carriage. "Not what I expected from someone who commands monsters."
He smiles slightly. "I'm full of surprises."
"Indeed. The Confederation Council will be most interested in my report. Particularly regarding your lieutenants. They are... not typical representatives of their species."
"Evolution has many forms, Envoy Vortrax. My bond network simply accelerates natural potential."
There's something in his phrasing that catches my attention. "Your bond network. You're a tamer then? The Council suspected as much, but your capabilities exceed documented limitations for that rare profession."
He shrugs with casual confidence that masks something deeper. "As I said, full of surprises."
As our caravan departs, Julian frantically organizing his notes beside me, I find myself contemplating the broader implications of today's meeting. The Monster Lord represents something unprecedented, not merely a powerful tamer with unusual monsters, but the architect of an entirely new form of society, one where monsters evolve beyond their natural limitations to create something neither human civilization nor monster horde, but a hybrid of both.
"We need to revise our assessment completely," I tell Julian. "This isn't a temporary monster confederation that will eventually fragment. It's an emerging power with a unique internal structure and significant growth potential."
"The Council will want containment strategies," Julian remarks, ever practical.
"Perhaps," I acknowledge. "But I recommend consideration of genuine alliance options as well. The Monster Lord's domain may represent a valuable buffer against threats from the east and perhaps they may even be maneuvered to help with the increasingly unstable situation in Lord Keenan's territory."
As our caravan moves back toward Confederation territory, I make mental notes for my official report. The Monster Lord's unusual diplomatic approach, the disturbing intelligence of his evolved lieutenants, the sophisticated organization of his territory, all suggest something different from traditional monster threats.
Whether that difference represents opportunity or danger for the Confederation remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the regional balance of power has shifted, and the merchant houses that don't adapt to this new reality will find themselves at a significant disadvantage.
I've negotiated with kings, dukes, tribal chieftains, even once with an elven ambassador. But negotiating with evolved monsters led by a human with strange powers? That's definitely a first.
And in the complex world of Confederation diplomacy, novel experiences often translate to career advancement. Perhaps this unusual assignment might finally secure my position on the Council itself.
Something to consider, as we leave the Monster Lord's swamp behind and return to the familiar politics of civilization.