The thing about becoming a trader was that you had to pay your taxes. If someone did not, then the debtor's jail was going to be the best possible place for them.
But trolls ate a lot.
So did kittens.
Dobri had no money left from the sales. The food stalls in the Black Market loved him; he hated his life.
"Ok, listen up!" Dobri said, as he looked at Hans, Hugo, and Harald, who were in the middle of a very potent food coma. "We have to sell the silk! If I don't pay my taxes, I'll go to jail!"
The yet-to-be named kitten purred and rolled on its stomach. It still wanted something more to eat.
The grilled lizard a goblin had given it had been delicious. The kitten considered its potential life with the goblin, then remembered that the cat distribution system had promised him a good and happy life with Dobri, and it began to purr once more.
"You ate," Dobri said, drenching the kitten's hopes and dreams in realism.
The kitten showed him his back, flipping his tail back and forth.
"And, we have to sell your fur in an interesting way!" Dobri continued. He had collected a lot of keepsakes from the customers who had wanted to barter.
If it had been up to him, he would never have bartered in the first place. But when a Wendigo of all things had lumbered to them, with bloody horns and fangs, he had known that money is good, but not the one thing he valued most.
His life, as the encounter had taught him, was something he was strongly attached to.
"Look, why don't you go to the Baron?" Harald, the youngest troll, asked. "He is sure to buy off the silk from you! I mean, he must have concubines!"
Dobri nodded. That was actually a very good idea.
"Yeah, but what is stopping him from just taking the silks and not giving us a thing?" Hans, the eldest and biggest of the trolls, asked.
"I don't know," Hugo said, flexing his muscles. "Us?"
Hans snorted.
"Do you see all these guards? They work for the Baron!" Hans protested. Sometimes he wondered what his family would do without him.
Probably end up in a nameless grave, by the looks of it.
"Look, you are not seeing things my way," Hugo continued as he stood up. "If the Baron is found to be cheating merchants out of their wares, he will be forced to step down! The Black Market depends on its moral high ground! Look at who is gathered here!"
Hugo pointed at a hag, who was picking her nose, only to throw her snot inside the cauldron with her potion and for green fumes to rise to the sky.
"Or maybe this one would want to be here if she knew she was going to be exploited?" Hugo pointed at a lovely elven lady, who was singing softly.
"What are you saying?" Hans asked as he winked at the elf. She smiled briefly as she continued to sing. "And do you have some money? I'd like to go and listen to the lady."
Dobri sighed, knowing that if he didn't fork over the money, he was going to regret it until his dying day.
Which was going to be soon, considering Hans could just step on him and that would be that.
The gnome took out his last golden coin. He handed it over to the troll.
"Thanks!" Hans said, as he stood up. He clapped Hugo on the shoulder.
"Look, all I'm saying is don't risk your lives with the Baron. He might not give you anything. We are fed; the world is still spinning. We will figure out how to pay for the taxes!"
Hugo nodded, and Harald turned over and began to pet the kitten.
The small furball began to purr, showing him his belly.
That was a trap, of course.
But just as the kitten was ready to close its trap of ultimate doom and turn Harald's hand into ribbons, the troll took his hand away.
"I have an idea!" Harald was a troll. As such, he knew how to get money for something that should be given away for free! "Why don't we make cat clothes out of Morty's fur?"
The kitten narrowed its eyes. The name was not fitting in with its world view.
It deserved to be a Maximilian. Or Antony. Or even Caesar!
It lets out a hiss.
"Morty, you have a mean streak and a half," Harald told the kitten. "It fits you to be named after the Grim Reaper! He is the final boss for each one of us, don't you know?"
Morty narrowed his eyes, but the idea was slowly beginning to ground in his mind.
"Yes! We can make hats and sweaters! Morty, come here! I need to give you a bath! We don't have enough fur!"
Morty jumped to his feet, trying to run off as quickly as an arrow could fly.
But Harald's big, meaty, hand closed around the small kitten. His thick troll skin protected him from the needle-like claws.
Morty was washed, fur was collected, and enemies were made.
When Hugo and Hans came back, there was a carpet in front of the wagon with the oxen.
With little fur hats and sweaters on it, with Harald and Dobri making more.
"This…," Hans began, as he looked at the shiny clean kitten, who was curled in a bowl and looking at the world with narrow eyes. "Is animal cruelty."
"No!" Dobri protested, as he placed a fur hat on Morty's head, took it off lightning fast, and then placed it on the carpet. "This is making use of your assets!"
Morty wasn't seeing things that way. He was just seeing a gnome who didn't understand the importance of the cat distribution system.
But was soon going to.
Morty let out a meow. He began to make his complaints to the powers above.
He was just a kitten who deserved to be worshiped.
Unfortunately for Morty, the last customer service agent had finished their shift just an hour ago.
Morty was told to try again tomorrow.
The kitten curled tighter in a ball and began to purr out of stress.