I made my way down into the vaults beneath Dol Guldur, hurrying as much as I could but dawdling as much as I dared. My Master's summons had been urgent yet ominous. If he were planning to take full control of my mind again, robbing me of what little free will he had recently gifted me, then I was in no rush. At the same time, I feared angering him into taking such a decision.

Fortunately, my fears were for naught. My Master was intently studying some papers on his desk and didn't notice my arrival. I waited just in the chamber entrance, uncertain of whether to cough or speak to draw his attention. I even glanced down to make sure I was wearing my robes, though he of all people was able to see us without them.

After what seemed an age, he raised his head. Although his helmet concealed his face, as usual, there was something about his movement that suggested his brow was creased with worry. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to run an army?"

"No, my liege." I stepped forward into the room.

"A lot." He paused. "More than I can afford, it seems?"

"But what about the pillaging, sire? Doesn't the army pay for itself after a while?" No sooner had the words slipped from my mouth than I wanted to bite my tongue. Who was I to question my Master?

Thankfully it must have amused him to tolerate my rash words. "Oh, it will pay, eventually, once the war starts in earnest. But until then, my funds are in short supply. What I believe the humans call a 'cash-flow problem'." He pronounced the unfamiliar words with undisguised contempt, then paused and sighed before continuing. "I've even been forced to start a second job as a Necromancer to raise a bit of extra money."

"A wise move, my liege," I said hoping to make up for my earlier words.

"No. It was a bloody stupid move. I totally misunderstood the 'target consumer base demographic'."

"Sire?" I tilted my head, trying to read the papers on the desk, hoping they might explain the strange jargon.

"Look at where we are. To one side is Mirkwood, and the other is Lothlórien. We're surrounded by Elves. Immortal Elves. The one people who have no use for any Necromancy!" He slammed his gauntleted fist down on the desk. "What was I thinking?"

Uncertain of what to say, I made a vague shrugging gesture, and waited for him to continue.

"However, I have a new plan." He rose from his seat and started to pace the chamber. "Elves breed rarely, and when they do the children grow slowly. This means that the parents need to give them care for many more years than parents of other races, and that they hardly ever have the experience needed to provide such care."

"True, sire, but I fail to see..."

"Simple. My latest business venture is an exclusive, upmarket boarding school for children of Elven nobility. We'll charge a top-whack, premium fee to look after their little brats all the way from birth to adulthood." Pride filled his voice, and he stood, hands on hips looking at me. "Our first pupil is due to arrive later today - Nyssa or Nessa or something like that - and there are more to follow."

"How are you proposing to raise these children, my liege?"

"Me? I'm not planning to have anything to do with them at all, if I can help it. I'm heading back to Barad-dûr, putting as much distance between myself and them as possible." He extended one arm towards me. "That's why I sent for you, Khamûl."

"M-m-me?"

"Yes, I'm promoting you. Congratulations. You're the new lieutenant of Dol Guldur, in charge of running this place in my absence. Good luck."