“Did you really think you could defeat me?” Snarled Arch-Oligarch Doré from his throne of eyes. “You, a paltry magician and your reptilian familiar?”
The wizard Threbb took a second to breathe and regret eir life choices, then immediately regretted breathing too. The weight of the Doré’s magic pressed down on eir chest, forcing air Threbb’s lungs.
It was like a pyramid turned upside down, its point pinioned into a single person.
No, not a pyramid - thought Threbb - a pyramid *scheme*; crushing em with all the impossible pressure of power stolen from a thousand thousand unwitting patsies.
Threbb mewled. The Arch-Oligarch’s sorcery was structural inequality made manifest and it was *killing em*.
And still, even under this weight, Threbb somehow found the strength to whisper a few defiant words.
“‘nsot arr ptl” E wheezed.
Doré leaned forward and the shining metallic eyes in his throne shimmered as they planted their gaze firmly on Threbb’s trembling lips.
“What was that?” The tyrant’s words dripped gilt venom. “I would hear your last words, archmage of fools…”
The pressure eased a hair, a fraction of a newton, a feather’s weight.
“She’s not. A reptile.” Each word was agonising. “She’s … an amphibian.”
The prince of power-brokers paused a moment, then laughed a laugh rich as ruby wine.
“Oh, my apologies, wizardling. I should at least do you the honour of getting the taxonomy of your pathetic parasitic spirit correct. Come here then, toad!”
Doré reached out a hand and liquid platinum flowed up from his fingers. The tiny creature ribbited sadly as its attempt to hop away was cut short by precious, unforgiving tendrils.
“Wig isn’t. A toad.” Threbb’s lungs burned, e could feel something burbling in eir chest. “She’s. A … hairy frog.”
“Disgusting.” Spat Doré, lifted Wig the hairy frog so that the sad creature hung just in front of his face. “But if this creature means so much to you, then you can watch me devour it before I squash you to pulp to wash it down with.”
“Did you know,” Said Wig the hairy frog, surprisingly chirpily. “That there are some people who call hairy frogs the ‘horror frog’?”
“...no. Why?”
“This is why, fucknugget.”
And with that, Wig the hairy frog broke her own leg, protruded the bone through her skin, then stuck the disgusting blade in Doré’s throat.
A solitary smooth *SNIKT* filled the room. A gasp of disbelief. A bubble of blood. Then silence.
Threbb slowly picked emself off of the floor.
A knock sounded from outside the throne room. Then a frightened voice called through:
“Milord … the amassed crowds are waiting to hear news of your ultimate triumph? Will you be addressing them soon?”
Threbb and Wig made frantic eye contact.
“Um…” Threbb waved eir broken wand to disguise eir voice. “Give me half an hour?”
“What seems to be the problem, oh king of all things?”
“I’ve, uh …”
Threbb looked at the Arch-Oligarch, then looked at Wig who still had her leg bone planted in his carteroid, then back to the Oligarch.
“I’ve got a bit of a frog in my throat.”
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