The clinking sound of the last bag of coins landing on top of the others sounded just as sweet as the first bag that had hit the floor.

“All three carts are unloaded, sir.”

Smirking, the man simply nodded.

“Everyone else has left, correct?”

“They took the portal back after I had the last bag,” the servant replied. “I’m certain they will be ready to tell the queens that we–”

Grunting and gasps came as the dagger plunged into the man’s throat. He was dead. His brain just didn’t know it.

“Shame you drew the short straw. I’m certain those girls won’t mind that I kept one for myself.”

Laughing, his voice echoed off the stone walls of the vault, which now contained hundreds of bags of gold piled on top of each other.

With a snap of his finger, the portal to where the carts had met him vanished, and he was safe in his own home.

Pulling out the folder that he had been handed when the transport arrived, he undid the red wax seal, watching as its magic vanished in a puff of blue light. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I would pity anyone who opened this besides me. That spell would have made them wish for a quick death.

Inside were the pages for his mark. Dozens of pages, with writing from a variety of people, listed information on Max Hoste.

“Now, who could you be, little bird, that the queens would risk bankrupting a kingdom to find and kill?”

Running his fingers down the first line, the finely manicured nail pointed at words he couldn’t believe.

“A black skill… surely…”

Every page went into the folder, and it was instantly placed in storage for safekeeping.

Bending down, he picked up the corpse and shook it, staring into the blank eyes.

“WHY?! Why did no one tell me this boy really had a black skill?! I could have charged so much more!”

The corpse flew and splattered into paste against the worked stone bricks surrounding his vault.

Huffing and clenching his fists, the knowledge that he had missed out on so much more money angered him.

It took a few deep breaths to calm himself and unclench his hands, the bones almost cracking from the pressure he had squeezed with.

Tsking his tongue, he stared at the mess he had made and sighed.

“Oh, Max Hoste… run while you can, little man. When I find you, you’ll never know I was there.”

Laughing, he walked through the metal door that was a foot thick, letting it close behind him without a sound.

As the door shut, his laughter was cut off, and all that remained behind was enough wealth to purchase a kingdom.

And a growing pile of mush that slid off the wall and to the floor.