The merchant, a wiry Dwarrow, his beard singed and stained with soot, fell to his knees, hands raised in a desperate plea.
"Mercy, sir! Please! We've got mouths to feed back home. We'll pay double the tax, triple even—"
"Shut it," snarled another soldier, kicking a crate off the deck into the lava river with a splash.
The leader sneered, leveling his spear at the merchant's throat.
"If you can't take a hint... maybe you and your cargo can rot here."
A third soldier chuckled darkly and added, "Yeah. Leave the goods, and the Scorchkraken, to us."
The merchant's face paled even further. The Scorchkraken, an octopus-like creature armored in thick, obsidian-scaled plates, shifted nervously in the lava below, pulling the merchant boat with heavy, heaving breaths that made the molten river bubble around it.
Ben, watching from the shadows, felt his fingers twitch.
'How dare they make a mess on my territory.'
