A week had passed since Zalrodal found the entrance to the inner dungeon of the castle. He had overseen the repair and clean up of the dungeon together with Migaal and although it wasn’t perfect it was starting to be livable as the ferret described it. Migaal never stepped out of Zalrodal’s sight and was ever vigilant for anything he could criticize. Zalrodal was by now used to the ferret’s voice emerging in the wake of all of his decisions. In spite or perhaps because of it he had been noticing improvements, he walked with more purpose, his back was straight, his underlings showed more respect when he entered a room, they greeted him and conversations stopped when he arrived. He was not used to having so much authority over anyone, and under Migaal watchful eyes it had taken less than a week for things to start changing.

Zalrodal stood at the castle’s broken gates, the gatehouse itself had been repaired to a usable extent although the gate itself consisted of two large boards that were stuck into the gate frame in place of having great moving doors. Zalrodal waited for the goblins around the gatehouse to remove one of the boards to leave the castle and find out what his scouts have been so nervous about. Hopefully he would find the furry observers in their last hiding spot otherwise this would turn into a needlessly long excursion. The Dark Lord left the castle accompanied only by Migaal on his shoulder and a young goblin serving more as a packmulle than a travelling companion. The goblin carried two large sacks on his back which made his back arch the same way a tree after a heavy storm might. They departed towards the mountains to find out if their neighbours were hostile. Regardless Zalrodal was determined to have them join his horde. They knew nothing apart from their small frame and apparent furry exterior and if it hadn’t been for so many of his scouts claiming to have seen them he would have assumed it to have been some sort of animal

The sun bore down upon them as they travelled up into the mountain. Any traces of snow that might have existed was long gone. The path if it could be called a path was the least steep area of the mountain and the least amount of climbing. Although scurrying up a mountain did not pose a problem for MIgaal he found it more than demeaning to be walking up the country side and more than once exclaimed that a Dark Lord should not be trudging around on muddy slopes. Zalrodal however wanted to see these creatures himself and frankly did not trust the goblins to be capable of partaking in any of the two ways of ‘diplomacy’.

They had trutged up for hours and the sun was long moving away from its pinnacle. They decided to find a spot to eat and take a rest before continuing. They found a small outcropping protected from the strong winds that would have made eating uncomfortable and started to unravel the contents of the bags the young goblin carried. As could be expected there was not much more than dried meat, bread and cheese. They began eating and sharing the food between them, Zalrodal raising a piece of bread over his shoulder for Migaal to eat. The ferret leaped of his shoulders and landed on its soft paws a couple of paces away from the two and settled down.

“I will not be eating stale bread and dry meat,” the ferret huffed, “and neither should a Dark Lord for that matter.”

“What’s wrong with bread and cheese?” Zalrodal retorted, “besides it is all we have available and it is better to eat than to starve. I haven’t seen you complain about the food before so I do not see why you must complain now.”

“I have not complained about the food as I have been preparing my own,” Migaal said and waved his hand immediately a small wooden table appeared along with a cushioned chair. A second wave of his hand made a number of plates appear filled with exquisite dishes, roasted chicken, elaborate soups, pies and all that which might be found at the dinner table of royalty. Migaal gave the Dark Lord a look and started eating his meal.

Zalrodal moved towards the table, sat down and started eating the ferret's magically prepared meal ignoring all complaints. “I thought you were happy with bread and cheese? Why must you eat my food?” Migaal exclaimed, immediately after the Dark Lord beckoned the young goblin to sit with them and handed him some of the food.

“It seems we no longer have to carry any provisions with us as long as this little guy is with us,” Zalrodal gave the ferret a pat on his head with his worn hands, “You may leave the bags lying around Glol, I believe we won’t need any more provisions, isn’t that right?” the Dark Lord gave the ferret a look that showed extreme danger behind its passiveness.

The winds that were merely strong moments before now felt like ever repeating ice baths that threatened to throw one of the mountains. Migaal clung to the Dark Lord’s clothing and the goblin grabbed his arm lest he got lost in the wind. They had not found any evidence of the creatures around the mountain. The peak was now in arms reach and the valleys and forests spread out before them, he could see the castle in the distance and his underlings running about. From up here everything could be seen, everything but the creatures they came to look for.

Zalrodal stepped around the flattened out peak and moved in a circle looking at the surroundings, the floor, anything that could give them a clue. He crossed his arms and stood at the precipice. He heard a strange sound and turned around, Glol, the young goblin had sat down on a small rock and huddled up in his cape. Around the young goblin the ground shifted and before he could do anything the floor flipped once like wings on a mill and the goblin was devoured by the ground.

“What was that?” Zalrodal asked, approaching the spot of the goblin's disappearance, everything looked just as it had before, only that the goblin was gone. He looked at the stone the goblin had sat on just moments before and touched it as if to feel for his lost underling. The next moment the ground shifted again and Zalrodal was thrown into a large stone tunnel leading down into the cave, he slid down deeper and deeper into the mountain, not managing to grasp the walls or get a foothold to stop barreling downwards. With a crash they landed in a dark room, the landing much softer than expected.

“Get off me, I can’t breathez,” a voice squealed under Zalrodal and he rolled of the body, “Thank youz,”

Zalrodal stood up and whipped the dust of his clothing while the ferret on his shoulder created a fire on the palm of his little hands. They were in a cave, deep inside the mountain and a dark tunnel led away from the room. The entrance was completely hidden in the stone ceiling above.