I stare at the open chests of gold, the flickering light of the crystal lamps catching on the coins and casting dancing reflections across the walls of my house. Ninety-five thousand gold crowns. More wealth than I could have imagined when I first arrived in this world with nothing but the clothes on my back. Part of me wants to simply close the chests, lock them away, and keep every last coin for myself.

  Instead, I sigh and step away from the temptation. "Send them in," I tell the hobgoblin guard at my door. Time to be responsible, as much as it pains me.

  My lieutenants file into the main room of my house, which has been hastily rearranged to accommodate this meeting. Gorthal enters first, his evolved form commanding attention as always. The Blood Sage's metallic skin patterns pulse with subtle energy, each beat in perfect rhythm with his heart. Behind him comes Morrigan, her transformed hagraven presence somehow filling the space without effort. Nerk follows, his tactical mind already assessing the room's layout and the positions of everyone within it.

  I notice Elara Velimir hovering near the entrance, journal and pen in hand, her scholarly enthusiasm evident in her wide eyes. She's been with us less than a day, but already her presence is changing things. I hadn't planned on having an audience for this meeting, but I suppose it's good to have a record of how the Monster Lord distributes his wealth.

  "Welcome," I begin, gesturing to the chests. "As you can see, our services to the Confederation have been well-rewarded. Ninety-five thousand gold crowns, with more promised in the future."

  I wait a moment, letting the sight sink in. Even to my lieutenants, who don't share human greed, the sheer volume of gold is impressive.

  "The question before us today is how to allocate these resources for maximum benefit to our territory," I continue, trying to sound more lordly than I feel. With Elara watching, I'm suddenly conscious of appearing like a proper leader rather than someone who secretly wants to swim in coins like a dragon.

  "Blood rituals require rare components," Gorthal speaks first, his layered voice filling the room. "Evolution to Blood Sage opened new possibilities, but further advancement requires materials not found in swamp. Ancient metals from mountain depths. Crystallized essences of rare creatures. Alchemical catalysts from distant lands."

  I nod, having anticipated this request. Blood magic has proven incredibly effective in battle, particularly against the Death Knights who had previously seemed almost unstoppable.

  "How much would you need?" I ask, already mentally calculating how much of my precious gold I'll have to part with.

  "Five thousand gold crowns provides sufficient resources for next phase of blood-warrior enhancement," Gorthal replies with unsettling precision. "Will enable ritual modifications for three hundred warriors, improving regenerative capabilities and death-magic resistance."

  Five thousand? Why does he need that much gold! I try keep my expression neutral, but it stings to think of parting with that much.

  "I'll consider it," I say, turning to Morrigan. "And you?"

  The evolved hagraven steps forward gracefully. "My eventual journey to the primal storm will require substantial preparation," she begins, her voice carrying those harmonics that still sometimes unsettle me. "Ancient texts containing storm-calling formulas must be acquired from collectors who understand their value. Crystalline focusing implements, capable of channeling raw elemental energy without shattering, must be commissioned from master craftsmen. The journey itself will require specialized protections against the storm's uncontrolled energies."

  I brace myself for the number.

  "Eight thousand gold crowns would secure these necessities," she states calmly, as if requesting pocket change rather than a small fortune.

  I nearly choke. Eight thousand? Combined with Gorthal's request, that's over a tenth of our total wealth!

  "That seems... substantial," I manage, fighting to keep my voice level.

  "The primal storm exists only in the far eastern wastes," Morrigan explains. "A journey of considerable distance through territories not aligned with our interests. The protective measures alone account for nearly half the requested amount."

  I glance at Nerk, hoping he'll be more reasonable. "And you? What do you need for your thousand-captain system?"

  The goblin king shakes his head slightly. "Tactical expansion currently limited by organizational factors, not material needs. Goblin evolution proceeds efficiently with existing resources. Current priority is establishing command hierarchies and training methodologies. Gold not required at this stage."

  Well, that's a relief at least.

  "And what of Morkath?" I ask, nodding toward the chest. "He's still undergoing transformation, but should we set aside funds for his projects once he emerges?"

  "Would be prudent," Nerk agrees. "Unknown what requirements evolved swamp lord will have. Suggest reserve allocation for unexpected needs."

  I look at the three lieutenants before me, then glance at Elara, who's scribbling notes furiously in her journal. Having an audience makes this harder somehow. If I hoard all the gold for myself, I'll look selfish and short-sighted. If I distribute it too freely, I'll look weak. Neither is an image I want to project to our first human observer.

  "Very well," I decide, trying to sound authoritative. "Gorthal, you'll receive four thousand gold for your blood ritual components. Morrigan, seven thousand for your storm preparations. We'll set aside three thousand for Morkath's eventual needs. The remainder stays in our treasury for future requirements and unexpected situations."

  I've knocked two thousand off their requests, which feels like a small victory, but still leaves me parting with fourteen thousand gold. It's painful, but I know it's the right decision. The Monster Lord's power comes from his lieutenants. Their evolution and capabilities are what make our army formidable.

  "Acceptable allocation," Nerk says with a nod.

  "Your consideration is appreciated," Morrigan adds, with what might almost be a hint of genuine gratitude.

  Gorthal simply inclines his head, metallic skin catching the light as he moves.

  "Good. The funds will be distributed today," I tell them, anxious to conclude this meeting before they think of anything else they need. "We'll have another full council once Morkath completes his transformation."

  As they file out, Elara lingers by the doorway, still writing in her journal. I consider asking what she's recorded but decide against it. Better not to know exactly how she's analyzing my leadership decisions.

  "Was there something else, Miss Velimir?" I ask instead.

  She looks up, momentarily startled. "Oh! I was just... this is fascinating, really. The economic structure of a monster territory. I don't believe anyone has ever documented anything like this before."

  "We're full of surprises," I reply with a thin smile. "Feel free to explore the settlement today. I've assigned hobgoblins to ensure your safety."

  Her eyes light up at the suggestion. "I would love that! There's so much to observe and document."

  As she hurries off, I turn back to the chests of gold, now noticeably lighter after allocating seventeen thousand coins to various projects. Still, forty-three thousand gold remains, a fortune by any standard. And at least I've managed to keep most of it.

  For now.

  ---

  Elara

  I follow my hobgoblin escorts along the raised wooden walkways, trying to take in everything at once. My fingers are already cramping from writing so furiously, but I can't afford to miss a single detail. No Western Academy scholar has ever documented a functioning monster society like this. Every observation is precious.

  "The support structure uses a hybrid joining technique," I murmur to myself, crouching to examine where the walkway meets a support post. "Not traditional carpentry... the wood is somehow fused rather than merely connected. And this resin coating..."

  I scrape a tiny sample into one of my collection vials, labeling it carefully. The hobgoblin guards exchange glances but remain silent. They're surprisingly patient with my constant stopping and examining.

  The settlement's layout fascinates me. It's not the orderly grid pattern of human cities, nor is it the chaotic sprawl one might expect from monsters. Instead, it follows what seems to be the natural flow of the swamp itself, structures positioned to take advantage of higher ground while pathways follow optimum routes through the wetter areas.

  "Adaptive rather than imposing," I write in my journal. "Works with environment rather than against it. Efficient use of natural features."

  Every few steps brings new discoveries. Mushroom gardens growing in specific patterns along tree trunks, providing both food and medicine. Fish traps designed to allow smaller specimens to escape while capturing only those of optimal eating size. Irrigation systems that use the swamp's natural water flow to cultivate unfamiliar plant species.

  I'm so engrossed in my observations that I nearly miss the shadow passing overhead. Then another follows, and another. I look up just as my hobgoblin escorts move closer in protective formation.

  A massive crystal drake circles above, Crystallis, the Monster Lord's fifth lieutenant. But she's not alone. Behind her flies a formation of smaller winged creatures, their serpentine bodies and crystalline features immediately recognizable.

  "Wyverns!" I gasp, fumbling to open a new page in my journal. "Crystal wyverns!"

  This shouldn't be possible. Crystal formations in living organisms should be pathological, not functional. Yet here they are, flying in perfect formation behind Crystallis like an aerial honor guard.

  I watch in amazement as they descend toward a clearing near our position. The creatures land with surprising grace, folding wings that shimmer with crystalline patterns along the edges. Crystallis settles among them, clearly the dominant figure.

  "We need to get closer," I tell my escorts, already moving in that direction. The hobgoblins seem reluctant but follow dutifully.

  The Monster Lord, John, as he asked me to call him, approaches from the other direction, clearly as surprised by this development as I am.

  "What's all this?" he asks Crystallis, gesturing to the wyverns.

  The crystal drake makes an extraordinary sound, not a roar or growl but a harmonic resonance that seems to carry meaning. I make a note to study this communication method further.

  "You found them in the mountain ranges?" John asks, apparently understanding something in the sound. "And they just... followed you back?"

  Another harmonic tone, different in pitch and modulation.

  "Established dominance? Like a pack structure?"

  Crystallis inclines her massive head in what appears to be confirmation.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Well, this is unexpected," John says, running a hand through his hair with a very human gesture that contrasts sharply with the otherworldly scene before us. "But useful. We've been lacking aerial scouting capability beyond what you and the hagravens can provide."

  I can't contain myself any longer. I step forward, my scientific curiosity overwhelming any sense of protocol.

  "Miss Velimir," John says, noticing my approach. "It seems Crystallis has expanded our aerial forces. Apparently, crystal wyverns recognize her superiority and have accepted her leadership."

  "This is extraordinary," I breathe, studying the creatures with undisguised fascination. "For them to form a hierarchical structure around an evolved drake suggests profound behavioral modification beyond the physical changes."

  "They're changing in more ways than just appearance," John agrees. "Crystallis says they're more intelligent than normal wyverns too. More trainable."

  One of the wyverns approaches me, its crystalline eyes studying me with what appears to be genuine curiosity rather than predatory interest. It makes a softer version of the harmonic sound Crystallis produces.

  "May I?" I ask, gesturing toward the creature, my heart pounding with scientific excitement.

  John glances at Crystallis, who makes a short, affirmative sound.

  "Carefully," he warns. "They're still wild creatures, just... evolving."

  I slowly extend my hand, palm open, toward the wyvern. The creature sniffs at my fingers, then allows me to touch the edge of its crystalline jaw. The scales feel cool and smooth, similar to polished stone but somehow alive, vibrating slightly with the wyvern's breathing.

  "It's warm!" I exclaim in surprise. "And there's a vibration in the scales, almost like they're humming. The crystal structures must be resonating somehow, perhaps responding to internal energy patterns."

  I examine the formations more closely, noting how the crystalline growths follow specific patterns along the creature's body, concentrated at wing joints, spine, and sensory organs.

  "This could revolutionize our understanding of monster biology," I say, more to myself than anyone else as I frantically make notes. "The evolutionary catalyst must be transferring between species through some form of resonance pattern rather than only direct magical bonds."

  The Monster Lord watches me with evident amusement. "You really are here for the research, aren't you? Your father mentioned your scholarly interests, but I half expected that to be diplomatic cover for something else."

  I look up, momentarily confused. "What else would I be here for?"

  "Political connections? Trade negotiations? Marriage alliance?" he suggests with a wry smile. "The usual reasons merchant houses send their children to foreign courts."

  I laugh at the absurdity. "Is that what you thought? No, my interest is purely academic. Though I suppose Father wouldn't object if some exclusive trading rights happened to result from my research."

  "At least you're honest about it," he says, looking somewhat relieved.

  "The Western Academies would give anything for the information I'm gathering," I continue, enthusiasm overwhelming my usual scholarly reserve. "No one has ever documented monster evolution of this magnitude before. The physiological transformations alone are groundbreaking, but the cognitive and social changes? That's unprecedented in all the literature."

  I gesture toward the settlement around us. "This isn't just a military force, though that's impressive enough. You're creating an entirely new form of society here, something that's neither human nor traditionally monstrous. The academic implications are staggering."

  The Monster Lord seems taken aback by my assessment. "I hadn't really thought of it that way. We're just... building what works."

  "That's often how the most profound changes begin," I observe, closing my journal. "Not with grand theoretical designs, but with practical adaptations that eventually reveal themselves as something revolutionary."

  Before he can respond, a hobgoblin messenger approaches and salutes sharply.

  "Monster Lord, diplomatic messages arrive. Multiple sources. Request your attention at command hall."

  He nods to the messenger. "I'll be right there." Turning back to me, he adds, "Feel free to continue your observations. Just stay with your escorts."

  "Of course," I agree readily. "I have dozens more samples to collect and observations to record."

  As the Monster Lord departs, I return my attention to the crystal wyverns, who have settled into a loose semicircle around Crystallis. I open my journal again, recording their positional hierarchy and interaction patterns with meticulous detail.

  This is just the beginning, I think. Whatever is happening here in this swamp will change everything we thought we knew about monsters, evolution, and perhaps even the fundamental nature of magic itself.

  ---

  John

  The command hall buzzes with activity as I arrive. Various messengers wait, some from familiar sources, others representing factions I've never dealt with before. The victory against Keenan's forces has apparently put us on many more regional maps than before.

  "Organize by priority," I instruct Nerk, who has arrived ahead of me. His tactical mind makes him ideal for triaging diplomatic communications.

  "Azurite Conclave representative first," Nerk decides, gesturing to Thrazz, whose skin patterns pulse with more agitation than usual.

  "Monster Lord," Thrazz greets me with formal precision. "The Azurite Conclave extends congratulations on your recent victory against the human lord Keenan. Our observers in surface territories reported your army's exceptional performance."

  "Thank you," I reply, somewhat surprised by the Underrealm faction's interest in surface politics. "We appreciate the recognition."

  "Additionally," Thrazz continues, "I am instructed to inform you that the Obsidian Enclave has withdrawn its forward elements from territories adjacent to your domain. They retreat to deeper holdings following their... encounter with your forces at the southern mines."

  That's interesting news. The Obsidian Enclave had been a formidable opponent during our fragment hunt. That they would abandon territory rather than risk another confrontation speaks volumes about how our victory affected their strategic calculations.

  "We're pleased to hear the Enclave has chosen a wiser course than further conflict," I reply diplomatically.

  Thrazz's patterns shift in what I've come to recognize as their equivalent of a satisfied nod. "The Conclave views this development favorably. Less competition for resource routes benefits our trading operations."

  After a few more exchanges about minor Underrealm matters, Thrazz departs, and Nerk directs the next messenger forward, a nervous-looking human in Confederation livery.

  "Monster Lord," the man begins, struggling to maintain eye contact. "I bring intelligence reports from Confederation scouts monitoring Lord Keenan's territory."

  "Go on," I encourage.

  "Following their defeat, Keenan's forces have fallen into disarray. The Death Knights have reportedly withdrawn to unknown locations, leaving the human lords to manage their territories without necromantic supervision. Infighting has broken out between several subordinate commanders, each blaming others for the failure."

  That's even better news. We didn't just win a battle; we potentially destabilized Malachar's influence in the entire region.

  "Keep me informed of any significant developments," I instruct the messenger. "Particularly any sightings of Death Knights returning to the area."

  Next comes an elven representative, not the high-ranking First Warden who visited previously, but a lower-level emissary with silver-threaded robes and an expression of carefully controlled neutrality.

  "The Sylvan Council acknowledges receipt of information regarding your recent military engagement," he states formally. "The Council expresses interest in the demonstrated capabilities of your forces and would welcome further details at your convenience."

  Translation: the elves are worried about how powerful we've become and want to assess whether we're a threat to them.

  "Please convey to the Council that we remain focused on securing our own territory rather than expansion," I reply, choosing my words carefully. "Our defensive capabilities should not concern those who maintain peaceful relations with our domain."

  The emissary bows slightly. "I shall convey your message precisely."

  Several more messengers follow, most bringing variations on the same theme: recognition of our victory, cautious diplomatic overtures, and thinly veiled attempts to assess our intentions now that we've demonstrated significant military power.

  Just as the last messenger departs, a young troll rushes into the command hall, moving with unusual speed for his species.

  "Monster Lord!" he calls, breathless with excitement. "The vessel changes! Morkath's transformation accelerates!"

  I exchange quick glances with Nerk, Gorthal, and Morrigan, who have been monitoring the diplomatic exchanges.

  "We go immediately," I decide, already heading for the door.

  We arrive at the sacred pool to find a scene of remarkable transformation. The water now glows with brilliant emerald light, illuminating the surrounding vegetation with an otherworldly radiance. The plant life around the pool has grown exponentially, creating a dense canopy of leaves and vines that arch over the water like a living cathedral.

  At the center, Morkath's transformation vessel pulses with intense energy. The once-opaque container has become almost completely transparent, revealing the shifting mass within. What was once recognizably Morkath has evolved into something far more abstract. Part plant, part troll, something wholly new. Root systems extend and retract in rhythmic patterns, bark-like skin flows like liquid, leafy growths emerge and submerge throughout the amorphous form.

  Elder trolls gather around the pool's edge, their ancient voices raised in a ritual chant that seems to resonate with the pulsing vessel. The very ground beneath our feet trembles in response to their ceremony.

  "How long?" I ask one of the elders.

  "Very soon," he replies, his eyes never leaving the vessel. "The final stage approaches. Already he communes with distant swamps. His consciousness extends beyond our territory."

  That's an unexpected development. "He can connect to other swamps? Even ones far from here?"

  The elder nods solemnly. "Morkath transcends physical limitations now. Through root networks, through water tables, through soil connections, his awareness flows beyond boundaries drawn on human maps."

  Before I can ask more questions, the vessel begins to crack. Thin lines appear across its surface, glowing with intense green light that spills out in concentrated beams. The elder trolls' chant intensifies, their voices rising to match the vessel's increasing energy.

  "Stand back," Morrigan warns, creating a protective barrier of magical energy around our group. "The final emergence can release unpredictable forces."

  The water in the pool begins to swirl, creating a vortex around the vessel. Plants from across the entire swamp seem to respond, vines and roots physically growing toward the pool at impossible speeds. Even plants from beyond our immediate vicinity bend in the direction of the sacred pool, as if drawn by some invisible force.

  With a sound like breaking glass magnified a thousandfold, the vessel shatters. Fragments dissolve into pure energy rather than physical debris, dissipating into the swirling water. From within this maelstrom emerges a form unlike anything I've seen before.

  Morkath has transformed beyond recognition. He stands nearly twice his previous height, towering over even the elder trolls. His body appears to be composed of equal parts living wood and flowing vegetation, with bark-like armor covering vital areas while more flexible plant matter allows for movement. His arms extend into branch-like appendages that can apparently change shape at will, as demonstrated when one briefly forms into something resembling a blade before returning to a more conventional limb.

  Most strikingly, his head has transformed completely. No longer a singular troll-like face, it now features a crown of intertwining branches that support multiple plant-like sensory structures. Eyes formed from luminescent fungi dot the crown at strategic points, offering 360-degree vision. What serves as a mouth appears to be a specialized opening in the central trunk, lined with pollen-producing structures that release glowing spores when he speaks.

  "Monster Lord," Morkath's voice resonates from his entire form rather than just the mouth-like opening. "The transformation is complete. I am no longer merely a troll lord. I am Rootmind, first of my kind."

  I stare in amazement at his transformed appearance. "How do you feel?" I ask, still trying to process what I'm seeing.

  "I feel... connected," Morkath replies, root systems extending from his lower body to merge with the swamp floor. "My awareness extends through root networks across territories beyond our own. I sense distant swamplands, marshes, wetlands across the continent. Their patterns, their life, their potential, all flow through my consciousness."

  "Can you communicate with other swamps?" I ask, immediately seeing the strategic potential.

  "Not merely communicate," Morkath corrects. "I can influence. Direct. Even transform, given time and sufficient energy flow. All wetlands share fundamental connections through water tables and subterranean networks. I now exist within those connections."

  The implications are staggering. With Morkath's new abilities, we could potentially monitor activities in distant territories, establish outposts in swamplands far from our primary domain, maybe even transform inhospitable terrain into environments favorable to our forces.

  "Welcome back, Morkath," I say simply, knowing no words can adequately express the significance of his transformation. "The Monster Lord's army is stronger for your evolution."

  Morkath inclines his crown in acknowledgment, spores of bioluminescent pollen drifting from the movement. "The sacred pool has served its purpose. My transformation vessel is no longer needed. I return to service, changed but devoted still to our collective growth."

  As Morkath steps fully from the pool, the surrounding vegetation responds to his presence. Plants grow more vibrant, water becomes clearer, even the quality of light filtering through the canopy seems to improve. The swamp itself recognizes him as something new, something that bridges the gap between individual consciousness and collective ecosystem.

  "Two lieutenants have now transcended their evolutionary barriers," Morrigan observes quietly. "First Gorthal to Blood Sage, now Morkath to Rootmind. The balance of power shifts with each transformation."

  She's right. With each lieutenant who breaks through their limitations, our army's capabilities expand exponentially. Gorthal's evolution has already significantly enhanced our combat effectiveness against necromantic forces. Now Morkath's transformation gives us unprecedented intelligence gathering and territorial influence.

  If Nerk and Morrigan eventually achieve their own breakthroughs, what might my army become then?

  It's a question that fills me with both anticipation and a strange sense of responsibility. The gold I reluctantly distributed earlier suddenly seems a small price to pay for the power these evolutions unlock. Fourteen thousand coins for capabilities that no other force on this continent possesses? It's starting to look like a bargain.

  Though I'll still be keeping a very careful count of exactly how many gold coins remain in those chests. I may be evolving as a leader, but some habits die hard.