Zal’Rodal looked at the summoned demon with disappointment. He had imagined something bigger, grander. Nobody would be running in fear from a ferret. The fact that the ferret dressed well wouldn’t change that. Regardless of his desire to summon a great battle demon he had run out of Visapis for now and it would be a waste to dismiss the little creature outright. The Dark Lord bent down and looked at the ferret.
“Who did you say you were again?”
“I am Migaal, the demon of presence,” the ferret bowed, using one of its paws to hold the hat in place, “how can I be of service?”
He knew that demons were usually divided into different specialisations. The main demonic attributes, of course, revolve around wrath, greed, gluttony, and the usual demon stuff. However, other demons focused on more niche terrains, he once met a demon specialising in paper cuts, a nasty bugger. Migaal’s specialisation was presence, the ability to be noticed, to be imposing and respectable. A complete lack of presence would result in an individual's highest ambition turning to nothingness. One could not hope to become more than a speck of dust on a wall, but even a speck of dust had some presence as people noticed it to wipe it away.
“What can you do then? I haven’t heard of a demon of presence, which means you can’t be very important?”
“I shall pretend not to have heard that. You have probably heard about some of my cousins in Demonkind, who are much more famous than I am. However, I will let you know that without me, none of them would be noticed. I am that which makes you stand out, which others take notice of. With me by your side, there won’t be anyone to mistake you for nothing else than the one in charge, a Dark Lord.” The ferret gave another bow and took some steps back.
“What will you do? Will people magically start looking at me because I have you around? I think a regular ferret would already be enough to focus attention on myself.”
“May I give a demonstration of my abilities,” Migaal asked and waited till Zal’Rodal gave a court nod, “I have been recently summoned so do not expect too much of me yet, but I have enough power to make some slight improvements,” Migaal waved his paws in front of himself in a small circle and pointed directly at the Dark Lord.
The room was once again filled with a magical fog completely enveloping Zal’Rodal. The fog enveloped Zal’Rodal, transforming his ragged appearance into that of a true ruler. Black boots, tailored clothing, and styled hair replaced his tattered garb and unkempt look, erasing the grime of the road.
The ferret looked him up and down admiring his work with a satisfied smile, “One of my finer works I’d say. A larger challenge than I am used to, but a satisfying result nonetheless,” he walked closer to Zal’Rodal to stand at his side, his front paws never touching the ground beneath. With another flick of his paw, a large mirror appeared in front of them. Zal’Rodal looked at it in awe, he hadn’t looked presentable in a long time, and he no longer looked like some bandit leader barely scraping by. He instead felt like a true ruler, he now even looked the part.
Zal’Rodal spun a little to the sides trying to see the full extent of the ferret’s magic. “Perhaps you aren’t as useless as I had taken you for.”
“It is good to see my new master isn’t a complete fool?”
“So you are saying that I am somewhat of a fool?”
Migaal raised his eyebrows at that while looking upwards at his master, “Did you see what you were wearing?” the ferret said crossing its paws, “you wouldn’t catch me dead with any of that stuff on.”
“It was the best I could find!”
“Ah, ah, ah, no excuses, but do not fret,” he interrupted, “I am here now and there shall be no more crimes against attire while I am around.” Migaal started walking towards the exit in what seemingly looked like the tips of his toes. “Anyways, come then, we must leave this place. It is far too dirty for anyone who is anyone to be standing around in. Zal’Rodal made his way to join the demon at the entrance of the room. Once he reached the door frame, Migaal scampered up his body and perched himself on Zal’Rodal’s shoulder. “Straighten your back, you are not some goblin,” Migaal commanded, “that’s better, now take some larger steps, walk with purpose. But not too large, we don’t want to seem like we are in a hurry,” he scrutinised his master till he was satisfied and stretched himself out between the two shoulders, “that is much better.”
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“You are starting to get on my nerves.”
“If stepping on nerves is what’s required to make something out of you, then so be it. I shall advise until you tire of my services,” Migaal reprimanded. “Shall we continue? A Dark Lord should always be doing something or at least appear as if that is the case. Standing in a dusty hallway is not what we should spend our time with.”
“I think I know how to act like a Dark Lord, you don’t have to tell me these things.”
“My Darknificence, you do not think. You know, if you wish to say something say it and say it with conviction or don’t say it all.”
“Shut up!”
“As you wish,” the ferret gave a small bow and remained quiet. Migaal smiled to himself and remained silent as they continued their trip through the now-cleared dungeon. Zal’Rodal’s dark figure moved through the empty halls until he returned to the throne room. He sat down on the throne and began pondering what should do next. It would take time to repair and tidy to castle and dungeon, he would have time to investigate the mountainous creatures personally, and perhaps he could lead another raid. He required more treasure, of course, but his goblins also needed tools and weapons which preferably were not made by their own clumsy hands. Most importantly he would need food for the winter, he remembered a former Dark Lord saying that an army could not run on an empty stomach, ironically he died of starvation in some hole.
He sat there thinking, leaning against one side of the throne, his head resting on his fist. Migaal scurried off his shoulders and moved swiftly across the room inspecting the state of the hall. He moved to the old fire pits within the throne room and placed his hands inside and they were once again filled with new wood and coal. He then opened his mouth and sputtered out a small burst of flame, lighting the pits and illuminating the throne room. The great pillars now cast long shadows all the way to the entrance. Migaal moved back towards Zal’Rodal and waved his hands around him. The tattered banners disappeared and instead, new banners unfurled in their place. A black field with a white skull adorned by a spiked crown and a sword passing below the symbols. “Now you must only ask your servants to pass a broom around this place and I’d say it could even become liveable.
“Did you not mention that you hadn’t the magical energy to amount to much at the moment?”
“What I have done is but a simple spell, your Darknificence. To create small objects and frivolities is not a challenge for a higher demon. There are simply things I refuse to partake in, the scrubbing of floors for one. I do however believe that a warm fire is beneficial to not only the aesthetic of the throne room but also to my well-being. The added vision of course made the horrendous banners more obvious so that had to be changed as well. I do not wish for others to think we live in some abandoned cave.
Zal’Rodal and Migaal continued discussing the finer points of being a Dark Lord. He continued sitting on his throne looking around the throne room while Migaal paced in front of him giving another lecture on the proper way to kick a goblin across a field. The lecturing stopped as they heard the echoing of footsteps coming from the entrance to the dungeon. Tiny footsteps, unrecognisable to all except those very familiar with the movement of goblins. A person could do worse than spending every waking hour around goblins, but not much worse.
A large shadow covered the hallways, as the torchlight illuminated the goblin from behind. Perhaps this would have been a frightening sight if not for the knowledge of the shadow's origin. Guglak emerged from the tunnel, bent over and out of breath. The old goblin looked around the throne room, his head spinning as he made his way towards the throne. The goblin too had expected to find a grimy and filthy place, but to his eyes, it seemed to be in excellent condition. Guglak did not care that a thick layer of dust still covered the floor, to be precise he didn’t notice it.
“Master, this place is wonderful,” Guglak said and bowed, then turned his attention to his master’s new companion “Who is the ratz, can we eat it? No fresh meatz around,” he eyed the ferret with desire, “our hunterz not great at, “Guglak pondered for a moment, “hunting! Yez not great”
“Welcome to my new throne room. It is good you came Guglak I will need you to send for some of the goblins to clean this place up,” Zal’Rodal ignored the goblin's comments pertaining to the eating of Migaal till he received an angry look from the ferret, “and no, you may not eat the ferret. In fact, he is a demon of, quite considerable talent.”
Guglak eyed the Migaal with distrust, “Very well Master. I bring newz, adventurers in the forest, yez, yez. Looking for uz! We should ambush adventurers, kill them! Steal their shiny rocks!”
